New York isn’t working out so badly after all. Maybe I won’t be Ann Arbor’s next Kathy Pennebaker.
“Oh, hey,” I say. “We’re going out Saturday night with Chaz and Shari. To celebrate my new job. And because we haven’t seen them in forever. Is that okay?”
“That,” Luke says, stirring, “sounds great.”
“And you know?” I’m still leaning across the pass-through. “I think we should really try to make it a fun night. Because I think Chaz and Shari are going through a tough time.”
“You get that feeling, too?” Luke shakes his head. “Chaz seems pretty miserable these days.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. I can’t exactly say Chaz seemed miserable when I saw him. But then maybe I was too busy bawling my eyes out to notice. “Wow. Well, I’m sure it’s just a transitional thing. Once Shari settles into her new job, they’ll be fine.”
“Maybe,” Luke says.
“What do you mean, maybe?” I ask. “What do you know that I don’t know?”
“Nothing,” Luke says innocently.Too innocently. He’s smiling, though, so I know whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.
“What is it?” I’m laughing now. “Tell me.”
“I can’t tell you,” Luke says. “Chaz made me swear not to tell.You, of all people, especially.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, pouting. “I won’t tell. I swear.”
“Chaz said you’d say that.” Luke is grinning, so I know whatever it is he’s not supposed to tell me, it isn’t something bad.
“Just tell me,” I whine.
And then, just like that, I know. Or think I know, anyway.
“Oh my God,” I cry. “He’s going to propose!”
Luke stares at me over his bubbling chicken. “What?”
“Chaz! He’s going to ask Shari to marry him, isn’t he? Oh my gosh, that is so great!”
And I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. Of course that’s what’s going on. That’s why Chaz asked me those searching questions about Shari in their place the other day. He was feeling me out to see if Shari had said anything about how living with him was going!
Because he wants to make it permanent!
“Oh, Luke!” I have to hold on to the counter to keep from falling off my stool, because I’m practically swooning, I’m so excited. “This is so fantastic! And I have the best idea for a dress for her… it’s like a bustier, you know, but with off-the-shoulder capped sleeves, in dupioni silk, and with little pearl buttons down the back, totally fitted through the waist, and then pooching out into this totally elegant belled skirt—not a hoop skirt, she wouldn’t like that… Oh, you know, she might not even want a belled skirt. Maybe I should make it more—well, here, this is what I mean.”
I reach for a notepad that his mother has left lying around—Bibi de Villiers, it says on the top of each page, in cursive—and scribble out the design I’m thinking of with a pen from the bank we both use.
“See, something like this?” I hold up the sketch, and see that Luke is staring at me with a mingled expression of horror and amusement.
“What?” I ask, shocked by the look on his face. “You don’t like it? I think it’ll be cute. In ivory? With a detachable train?”
“Chaz isn’t asking Shari to marry him,” Luke says, half grinning and half frowning. It’s clear he can’t tell which to do, so he’s doing both.
“He isn’t?” I put down the notepad and stare at my sketch. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive, ” Luke says. Now he’s completely grinning. “I can’t even believe you’d think that!”
“Well.” I am so crestfallen, I can’t hide it. “Why not? I mean, they’ve been going out forever—”
“Right,” Luke says. “But he’s only twenty-six. And he’s still in school!”
“Graduate school,” I point out. “And they are living together.”
“So are we,” Luke says with a laugh, “but we’re not getting married anytime soon.”
I force a laugh along with him, although the truth is, I don’t see anything funny about the situation. No, we may not be getting married anytime soon. But the possibility is still there, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
But of course I don’t ask him this out loud. Because I’m still woodland-creaturing him.
“Chaz and Shari have known each other for a lot longer than we have,” I settle for saying instead. “It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing if they got engaged.”
“I guess not,” Luke admits—but grudgingly. “Still, I don’t exactly see either of them as the marrying kind.”
“What’s the marrying kind?” I ask… sort of hating myself even as the words are coming out of my mouth. Because it’s totally obvious from this conversation that marriage is the last thing on Luke’s mind.
And it’s ridiculous that it’s on my mind. At all. I mean, I have so many other things to worry about besides getting married. Like making a name for myself in my chosen field. Or even getting a paying job in my chosen field.
Plus, I’m supposed to be playing it cool. We’re living together on a trial basis. Like Shari said, Luke and I haven’t known each other that long…
But I can’t help it… maybe because my chosen field is all about helping women who have someone who is willing to make a commitment to them do so in the most perfect gown imaginable.
And I can’t help thinking that if I could get my love life in order, I’d have more time to concentrate on the career thing.
So, really, the only reason I want to get married—or even just engaged—is so I can be better at my job.
Plus the fact that Luke is… well. Luke de Villiers, the hottest, coolest guy I’ve ever known. And he picked me—ME.
“You know what I mean,” Luke is saying. “The marrying kind. People who don’t have anything else going for themselves. So they just get married, because they don’t know what else to do.”
I blink at him. “I don’t know anybody like that,” I say. “I don’t know anybody who just got married because they had nothing else going for them.”
“Oh, yeah?” Luke eyes me. “What about your sisters? I mean, no offense or anything, because my cousin Vicky’s no different. But from what you’ve said… ”
“Oh,” I say. I’d forgotten about Rose and Sarah. Who actually got married because they got pregnant. It’s like no one in my house ever heard of birth control. Except for me. “Yeah.”
“I actually know plenty of couples like that,” Luke assures me. “You know, from school… people who just don’t have a life, so they glom on to someone else’s—be it for money, or stability, or just because they think that’s what they’re supposed to do straight out of college. And trust me… they’re insufferable.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure they are. But… some of them must really be in love.”
“They probably think they are,” Luke says. “But when they’re that young, how do they even know what love is?”
“Um,” I say. “The way I know I love you?”
“Ah.” He reaches out to cup my cheek in his hand, smiling tenderly down at me. “That’s sweet. But I’m not talking about us. Hey, I almost forgot.” He raises his glass. “To the new job.”
“Oh,” I say, a little surprised. My new job is the last thing on my mind at the moment. “Thanks.”
We clink rims.
I’m not talking about us,he’d said. That’s something, isn’t it? That he believes we’re different. Because we are different.
“Want to set the table?” Luke asks, as he checks the coq au vin—which is filling the apartment with such delicious aromas that I suspect Mrs. Erickson, from 5B, will be knocking soon, to ask if she can have a bite. “I think this is going to be ready in a minute or two.”
“Sure,” I say—then, with elaborate casualness as I hop down from the stool and walk over to the case on the sideboard where Mrs. de Villiers keeps her silver—not her silver WARE. Her silver. Which has to be hand- washed after use, and put back in its special antitarnish cloth-lined case—so I can set the table, “So if he isn’t proposing, what is it?”
