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His laugh echoed off the trees and drew the attention of a larger crowd—a crowd that likely realized I mistook him tying his shoe for a proposal. Lead filled my stomach, causing it to sink further into the embarrassment I felt. I looked down.
“Wow,” I said, starting to walk away as quickly as I could, even knowing he would rush to catch up. I didn’t want to marry him, not even kind of. But when he’d laughed so fully, showing he had zero desire to marry me as well, it stung.
“Wow?” he grumbled behind me under his breath, pausing for a second before he sighed and moved to catch up. “Amanda,” he said, grabbing my arm and tugging me to a stop.
I spun around to face him, surprised by the warm tears that rushed down my cheeks. Was I really crying over this? “What?” I snapped at him, crossing my arms over my chest. When I did, it drew his eyes to my cleavage, and I sighed, dropping my arms back to my sides.
“Why are you crying, babe?” Dallas cradled my face. He looked slightly concerned but with a hint of amusement. Was he enjoying this?
I sighed again, feeling even more embarrassed. “Why don’t you want to marry me?”
Judging by the way his brows scrunched together, Dallas was confused, and he opened and closed his mouth. “You just said…” He paused to put his hand on his forehead, staring at me. “Do you want to get married then?”
“No!” I squealed, throwing my hands in the air. “But you didn’t have to act like it was such a ridiculous idea!”
He chuckled, pulling me to him. “Amanda, we haven’t even had the girlfriend talk. I’m not saying I’m not down to marry you, but maybe we give it a few months.” Dallas wiggled his eyebrows, and I felt ridiculous.
I looked down. “I’m sorry. I just…” I looked at him and then at the crowd of families that were pretending not to watch our exchange but hadn’t missed a second of it. “I’m so bored.”
“We can leave and go do something else if you want.” With the way he reached for his car keys, it felt like that was his preference too.
I stopped, putting my hands on his chest and looking up into the intense eyes that had caught my attention originally. “I’m not bored with the garden, Dallas. I’m just bored in general.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I think I want to change my career, but I’m twenty-six years old. It feels like it’s too late to just start over.”
He shrugged. “Why don’t you quit your job then?”
“Are you out of your mind?” I looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “I can’t just quit. What would I do?”
When Dallas moved his hold on my back down to my ass, smirking at me, my stomach flipped. “I have plenty of money, babe. I’ll take care of you.”
I sucked my teeth, trying to step back from him and failing when he tightened his hold. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know it’s not,” he said, sounding more serious than he had all day. “I wasn’t joking, though. You could spend all day doing whatever you want and looking like a total bombshell while you do.” Dallas leaned in, kissing my neck and running his teeth along the soft, fleshy spot behind my ear. I sighed, unable to resist the goose bumps that rose on my skin any time he kissed me there.
“I don’t want to be a trophy wife,” I whimpered.
Dallas cackled. “We’re not getting married, remember? How about a trophy girlfriend?”
Was that any better? Ugh.
“I don’t want that either,” I said, ignoring the obvious disappointment that caused his smile to waver. “I want to do something that challenges me. Something rewarding!”
Dallas accepted defeat when he let go of me, moving to take my hand and lead me away from the floral patches. “You should do whatever you want to do, babe. I’ll support you.” He kissed the top of my head, and we walked in silence.
You should do whatever you want to do, babe.
***
The coffee shop I usually stopped at on my way to work was busier today than normal. Monday mornings were always busy, but not stand-in-line-for-twenty-minutes-while-the-person-in-front-of-you-argues-with-the-barista busy. When I finally stepped up to the counter, the girl behind it smiled with relief.
“Your usual today, Amanda?” she asked, writing down the order for an iced vanilla latte on the side of the cup before I’d even confirmed it.
I nodded. “Add some cinnamon today. I could use a little bit of a change,” I said with a giggle. My cheeks flushed remembering the scene Dallas and I had caused at the botanical gardens, but the feeling hadn’t changed.
The barista looked concerned—the way you’d look at a close coworker on one of their bad days. I offered her a gentle smile, dropping a few dollars in the tip jar and stepping to the side. There was a crowd waiting to hear their name called by the counter, and I moved back.
I stared at the bulletin board that proudly proclaimed “Community Goodies” along the top. It was mostly just advertisements for yoga classes or those in-house parties where you could buy dishes or pants. Most of the flyers were boring, some with colorful pictures of housewives inviting you to join their sales teams. In haste, I skimmed past the flyer before I’d read it completely.
Sell Yourself the Promise of Success
