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She changes the subject. “Did you say you are out at the grocery store? Is Elliott with you?”
“Nope, he’s working…I think. I just pulled into town and haven’t even been home yet. I’m just stopping at the store to grab a few things for dinner, so I don’t have to get back out later.”
“I hope you have your pepper spray with you.”
I pat my crossbody purse I’m wearing slung over one shoulder as I wander through the aisles. “Yep, my hot pink pepper spray is in my purse, ready to protect me from all the villains that run around the Whole Foods parking lot.”
She ignores my sass. “I just hate the thought of you wandering around the city all by yourself.”
“I know, but I am being safe, I promise.”
She sighs in disbelief and then changes the subject. “It was great to see you yesterday. I wish Elliott could have come too.”
Here we go again.
“Me too. He’s been working on a big project and there was just no chance he could get away yesterday. Maybe we can all get together for dinner soon.” I say, making an empty promise.
“You know, speaking of Elliott.” Mom interrupts the silence. “Joyce told me yesterday that her son Roger is getting married next month. She asked me when you and Elliott are finally going to get married.” She stammers. “I wasn’t sure what to tell her.”
Real smooth, Mom. “Well, I’m not really sure what to tell her, either.” I say, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder.
“I just don’t understand why he hasn’t asked you. Why hasn’t he? I would really love to have some grandchildren before I die.”
It’s a great question. I’ll admit, I’ve been wondering the same myself for a while now. Still, I have no answers for her.
“Beats me, mom. Probably my sparkling personality is too much for him.” I answer dryly. “Mom, I thought you didn’t like Elliott, why are you so concerned about me marrying him?”
She pauses thoughtfully, just long enough that I’m not sure she’s still on the line. “Oh Tyler, it’s not that I don’t like him. Honestly, I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.”
I want to argue with this statement, but she’s not wrong. I don’t visit often at all, but he rarely comes with me when I do. He is usually busy with work or the gym, and truthfully he’s not a fan of Fawn Creek or any small towns in general. If he does come visit he’s usually bored out of his mind, or making fun of the townsfolk before we’ve been here for an hour. I don’t even bother eating a meal in town when he’s with me because there is always something for him to nitpick.
“Tyler, I just want nothing else than for you to be happy. If Elliott is who makes you happy, then I want that for you. He must be something special if you two have been together for all these years.”
For some reason, her words slice through me like a knife. Am I happy? Is there a reason we’ve been together for all this time? Why did going back home stir up all these questions in my heart? I can’t get into this right now.
“Mom, I better get going. It looks like there is a gang initiation happening in the granola aisle and if I want a good seat, I need to get there early. Love you.” I wait just long enough to hear her say a quick, “I love you, too.” Before I press the end call button and shove the phone in my back pocket.
I know my mom means well. I really do, and believe me, she isn’t the only one that wonders why I’m not engaged yet. In fact, this is the second time in two days that I’ve been asked about the status of my relationship. I wish I had answers to give other people, but more than anything, I wish I had some answers for myself.
Elliott and I have been together for three years. When we moved in together, I thought cohabitating would be nothing more than a stepping stone. Instead, it appears that it was more of a life sentence. We live in his parents’ rental house, and they charge us a minimal amount for rent, just enough to cover property taxes and insurance. This enables us to use our money elsewhere. Because of this, we were able to pay off our cars and student loans rather quickly. With no debts to speak of, that has allowed us to each build up substantial individual savings accounts, keeping them completely separate of course. We split our bills and household purchases directly in half and try to keep things as equal as possible. It’s a system that’s worked well for us so far, even if the arrangement raises eyebrows among our friends and families.
I thought maybe once we paid all the debts off, he would finally pop the question. I thought so again regarding our savings accounts. Once we each had $10,000 in the bank, I was sure a proposal was coming. However, I’ve gotten nothing but crickets. Every time I think it’s coming, I’m let down. I don’t want to push him, and I don’t want him to feel pressured. However, we are kind of at a point in our relationship where it feels necessary to have a discussion about our future.
Avery and I have hashed this out before, many times in fact. I tell her I don’t want him to propose because he thinks he has to. She says that if I don’t have this talk with him, I’m going to waste my chance to have a family. She’s right, of course. It’s no secret that I’m getting older, and I thought I’d be further than this by now. I was sure by 22 I’d be married and by 25 I’d have my first baby. That was the plan, anyway. Now, at 28, it may be time to realize that my plan, just like my bookstore, was nothing more than a wish. I hate to admit it, but my mom and Avery make a valid point. I’m going to have to approach this subject with him, whether or not I like it. The only question is, how?
* * *
The front door opens with a click and the sound of Elliott’s shoes landing on the hardwood floor echo throughout the house. I’m in the kitchen, finishing up the homemade guacamole when I hear him.
“Hey, you!” I yell across the house before moving to the fridge to pull out the pitcher of margaritas I have chilling in there.
He peeks his head into the kitchen. “Hey.” He answers with a tired smile before moving across the room to lightly kiss my lips.
“Hungry?” I ask, nuzzling my face to his chest, breathing in his scent. I’ve missed him. We aren’t the type of couple that needs to talk often when we are apart, but I always cherish the moments when we are finally back together.
Elliott surveys the kitchen, and I admit I’m sure it looks as though I went a bit overboard with dinner. Cooking is one of my favorite distractions and today I really need to be distracted. I just finished making steak street tacos. Between those and the rice, beans, chips, queso, guacamole, and salsa, I have just enough food to feed a small army. Every surface of our kitchen is covered with various serving bowls. I’m going to have to have the conversation with Elliott that’s on the tip of my tongue or I’m going to gain twenty pounds.
Elliott places his backpack in an empty seat at the dining room table and pulls out his laptop. “How much are you going to hate me if I say I’m not hungry?” He asks, setting up a workspace on the table. “I had a big lunch today.”
