“That dress looks like it could eat me,” I said when Erin didn’t turn the page or redirect the conversation. “I mean ... like literally. I could disappear inside that thing and they’d never find my body.”
Rather than be offended at my critique of her suggestion, Erin cackled like a happy teenager who had just found out Sephora was having a sale. “You’re so funny.” She lightly slapped my arm and went back to the magazine. “It’s beautiful. This is exactly the sort of dress I would want to wear if I were getting married.”
My heart skipped at the word. Married. I hated it. The only word worse was Kardashian ... or reboot ... or Crocs. Oh, that was the right comparison. Marriage was like Crocs. Ugly. Inappropriate for public outings. The sort of footwear only a crazy person would wear. Did I mention the word ugly?
Erin cleared her throat, making me realize I’d lost track of the conversation. It was definitely a mistake to bring her into my nightmare. I’d been looking for someone to vent to, someone I didn’t have to worry about squealing to my live-in boyfriend Eliot Kane, and I’d opted for my sweet-as-pie co-worker. She never caused problems — until now.
“Get a grip on yourself,” I said after forcing a smile that I didn’t really feel. “Nobody is getting married.”
“I thought you said Eliot was going to propose,” Erin said.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use those words.”
She shook her head. “You said he told you that he planned to propose and that you should prepare yourself because it was coming.”
I had told her that. Crap. I should’ve realized she would take the idea and run with it instead of doing what I wanted her to do — which was to tell me I was right to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and turn into one of those crazy preppers who hunkers in a bunker. That’s what I wanted to do above all else. Hide — and pretend he hadn’t warned me a proposal was coming.
“He could change his mind,” I offered, opting to look on the bright side. “When he said he wanted to propose, it was right after Fawn shot a bullet into our ceiling. I think he was feeling emotional.”
Erin tugged a strand of her curly hair behind her ear. “So ... now you don’t want to get married?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what I told you when I explained what he said.”
“No. You just said that he told you he was going to propose and then you asked for my opinion.”
That’s not exactly how I remembered things. “And what was your opinion again?”
“I think it’s great.” Her eyes warmed as she rubbed her hands together. “You guys have been living together forever. It’s time you get married. Who doesn’t want to get married?”
Me. I didn’t want to get married. At least ... well ... I didn’t think I wanted to get married. I’d spent the better part of the last ten years telling myself marriage wasn’t for me. I had plans, for crying out loud. I was working hard on my world domination. I didn’t have time for marriage.
Right?
Riiight?
Ugh. I hated everything about this. My stomach was twisted and tight. My dreams were awash with ugly scenes from movies ... and we’re not talking Friday the 13th or Halloween movies. I would do better in those scenarios. Those sorts of movies I would survive. This was something else entirely.
“I think he’s already changed his mind,” I said. “It has been weeks at this point and he’s barely said a word about it. I think his emotions got the better of him and he’s thought better of it since.”
“Who has thought better of what?” a male voice asked. My boss, Fred Fish, cruised into the lunchroom, coffee mug in hand.
Ugh. I should’ve positioned myself in a chair so I could see if anybody was walking down the hallway. I did not want this news getting out. “I’ve been debating dying my hair purple,” I lied.
Fish, used to my antics, looked me up and down. “Purple hair isn’t professional. But you’re wearing rainbow-colored shoes and an inappropriate shirt, so I guess you don’t care about things like that.”
Yup. I’d opened myself up for that one. I glanced down to remind myself what shirt I was wearing and cringed when I realized it was the one featuring a UFO lifting a man out of the woods. It read: “Get in, loser, we’re doing butt stuff.” Eliot warned me about wearing the shirt to work, but I’d ignored the admonishment. The plan was to hide in my hoodie all day, but the office’s climate controls were wonky. And ever since Eliot mentioned proposing I’d been suffering hot flashes that I was convinced meant I was dying of some strange malady brought about because he decided to terrify me with talk of marriage, so I’d stripped off the hoodie without thinking. I hadn’t meant for Fish to see me in this shirt.
“So, you’re on board with the purple hair?” I asked, hoping to distract him.
“You’re going to do what you want.” He flicked his eyes to the magazine Erin was happily thumbing through. “Is there something you want to tell me, young lady?” He beamed at Erin. “Do you have news?”
“What?” Erin’s face was momentarily blank and then realization dawned. “Oh, not me. I’m still messing around with those dating apps you told me were a bad idea. Avery’s getting married.”
Fish’s expression was incredulous as he turned to me. “Excuse
