On Second Thought

by Kristan Higgins

  "Your party is already here," the maitre d' said, smiling at me. "Please, come this way."

  As I wove my way through the tables, a familiar face caught my eye.

  Jonathan, talking with an attractive woman. Dear God! A date? A sister? His ex? A prostitute? A robot-companion? I'd text Rachelle the first chance I got.

  I paused at their table. "Hello," I said, smiling.

  He looked up, nodded and went back to cutting his fish.

  Nice. "I'm Ainsley. I work with Jonathan," I told his companion.

  "Adele. Nice to meet you," she said pleasantly.

  "I don't mean to interrupt."

  "And yet you did," he said, tilting his head. Human contradicts her words through actions. Strange.

  "Jonathan," the woman chided fondly. "Be nice."

  "Enjoy your dinners," I said. Maybe he had Asperger's. Then again, he was generally rude only to me.

  Didn't matter. There was my beloved, dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and the red tie I'd bought him for Valentine's Day. Tonight, we'd be engaged. I paused for a second, taking it all in. Taking in Eric.

  Sometimes, the image of him when we first met didn't match this handsome adult in front of me. We'd been kids, after all. Then, his black hair was longer and curly. Now it was cut short, and the black had a few silver strands shot through it, though it was as thick as ever. He'd broadened in the shoulders this past year, thanks to his cancer journey and CrossFit regimen. But his eyes were the same, dark and thoughtful and kind.

  My guy. He stood as I approached.

  "Hey, babe," I said, a happy lump in my throat.

  "Hi," he said. He kissed me on the cheek. Didn't say anything about how I looked, which was a little unusual. He almost always noticed a new dress, and this one was killer--demure yet sexy, exactly the way you'd want your wife to look.

  "Thank you for thinking of this," I said, spreading the napkin on my lap. "It's good to get out after all the sadness."

  "I still can't believe he's gone," Eric said. "Life will never be the same."

  I suppressed a flash of irritation. While a true friendship between Nathan and Eric might've developed, they were really just casual acquaintances. We'd seen Kate and Nathan only twice during their marriage--dinner at our house, dinner at theirs. (Theirs was better. On top of everything else, Nathan could cook.)

  "I talked to my sister today," I said, hoping to remind him whose life would really never be the same.

  "How is she?"

  "She's hanging in there. She's always been strong."

  "Good, good. I've had to call on my own strength, too."

  "Eric. I think Kate is probably suffering a little more than you are." I raised an eyebrow.

  He blinked. "Well, I think no one is suffering more than anyone else. There's no measure. We're all in pain."

  "No, Kate is suffering more. Mr. and Mrs. Coburn and Brooke and her sons...they've lost their husband, son, brother, uncle. Let's not make everything about you, hon."

  "I'm just trying to say that I feel this deeply. Is that so wrong? And since when has everything been about me?"

  I took a deep breath, remembering that tonight we were probably getting engaged. "I'm sorry. Let's talk about something else, okay?"

  "Fine," he grumbled.

  I knew Eric was self-centered, the classic only child, son and heir of adoring parents. It left a mark (or a crown). But he was also generous and smart. He loved the life we'd built, loved our home, loved that at company dinners, his bosses would chuckle and say, "That's a great girl you've got there, Eric," because I knew how to work the crowd. He was faithful, funny and kind.

  Also, he was really good in bed. Did I mention that? Not that I had anything to compare it with, but yeah. He was.

  The cancer...well, I was tired of thinking about it, but cancer had scared him to death, despite all his positive affirmations. No one got through an experience like that unscathed.

  "Candy's column was pretty hilarious today," I said, and he brightened and listened as I told about her advice to a woman with a horrible mother-in-law (a problem I would never have). We ordered wine and appetizers, and I made a point of being my best self, chatty and flirty, to put him in the mood. From time to time, I'd glance over at my boss, but he never glanced back.

  It was in the middle of dinner that Eric finally got things rolling.

  He cleared his throat and put down his steak knife--he always ordered filet mignon. Every time. I was eating the lobster, which wasn't the best choice, since my hands were a little buttery. Then again, the ring would slide right on. It was also the best lobster I'd ever had, succulent and tender, and the butter, my God, I wanted to drink it.

  Using great self-control, I took one more bite of the lobster, then subtly wiped my hands thoroughly on the napkin. Took a sip of water to cleanse my palate for when Eric would kiss me, his fiancee.

  "There's something I've been meaning to ask you," he said.

  Oh, goody! My heart squeezed hard, then seemed to expand to fill my entire chest. Love, baby! Love.

  "Really?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. He liked to surprise me, though he rarely pulled it off.

  "Yes. But...well, I'm not sure how you'll react."

  "Hmm. Give it a shot and see," I said, smiling. In about thirty seconds, our fellow diners would see Eric on bended knee, would hear me say yes, and maybe even Jonathan would be happy for us. Maybe he'd even smile, though his face would probably crack.

  "Okay," Eric said, taking a deep breath.

  Then...nothing. He just sat there, not smiling, not frowning, just looking at me.

  Reach into your pocket, I mentally urged him, smiling a little harder. Still nothing. "What is it, babe?" I asked. My smile was feeling a little forced. Was he trying to remember a speech? He did love a speech.

  "Um...okay." He sat up a little straighter. My left ring finger raised itself in anticipation. He looked me in the eye, face serious, and said, "I'd like you to move out."

  Though my ears heard the words, it took a little longer for my brain to process them.

  Was there a proposal in there somewhere? my brain asked.

  No, I don't think there was, I answered.

  What was the question again?

  I'm not completely sure.

  "Excuse me?" I asked. I was still smiling. My ring finger was still waiting.

  "This is hard for me," he said. "But it's time. I'll always cherish our years together."

  "What?"

  "It's just that Nathan's death...it was so profound, you know? It was a message."

  "Wait, wait, wait. Hang on one second." My thoughts were just a gray blur. "Um...Nathan's death? What has that got to do with us? I mean, besides the obvious."

  "It was a message. To me. A very profound moment."

  "No, it wasn't! He tripped and hit his head and died. That is not profound. That's an accident, Eric. The opposite of profound."

  What the heck were we even talking about? Had he said something about me moving out? It looked like he had surprised me after all. But I--We--My brain was stuttering in shock. Jonathan was looking at me. I took a bite of lobster and chewed, smiling at my boss. Nothing to see. We're all good.

  Eric cleared his throat. "Babe. Look. I've been thinking. There's a reason we haven't gotten married, right? That says something."

  I swallowed the wad of lobster meat, nearly choking on it. "Yes, there's a reason, and no, it doesn't! The reason is, you've never proposed! Not officially, anyway." My voice was shrill, and people were starting to look. Let them.

  "I know," Eric said. "We talked about it, but we never did follow through." He gave me a steady look. "That tells the whole story, don't you think?"

  "No! I absolutely do not!" Where's the ring? my brain asked. We would really like to see that ring. "We live together. We bought a house together. We take vacations with your parents!"

  "We did. That's true."

  We did? What was this past tense thing? "Eric...you can't be b
reaking up with me..." My voice cracked in disbelief.

  He gave a sort of crooked nod/shrug, like he regretted that, yes, he was.

  "What about the ring?" I asked. "You bought me an engagement ring."

  He twitched. "How did you know?"

  "Because I know everything." Yes. Pull the Angry Mother. Eric was a nice Jewish boy. Angry Mother Voice scared him. "Eric David Fisher, you bought me a one-and-a-half-carat engagement ring from Tiffany's because you want to marry me! Not break up with me!" People were now openly enjoying our drama (minus Jonathan, who was eating again), but I didn't care.

  "Ains, look. You're right. I did want to marry you. There I was at the party, about to propose, you're right. And then the universe literally stops me by killing a guy."

  "Oh, for God's sake, Eric! He tripped! It was completely random!"

  "Well, I think it was more than random. It was the universe saying life is short, life is uncertain, live life large."

  "I am going to stab you with this fork if you don't knock it off."

  "Ainsley. Honey. I'm so grateful for everything. I really am. It's been an amazing run. But I'm putting the house on the market. I quit my job today, and I'm going to Alaska."

  "Alaska! Are you drunk? You're not moving to Alaska!"

  "I am."

  "Does your mother know?" Judy would lie prostrate in front of his car if he tried to move to New Jersey, let alone Alaska.

  "Not yet. But you need to move out."

  "I am not moving out! Are you kidding? Is this a joke?"

  "I'm so sorry. I really, truly regret hurting you." He looked at me steadily, kindly.

  There was...something...in his expression. In his voice, too. Sincerity, my brain said.

  Shut up, I told it. "You can't break up with me," I ground out. "I nursed you through cancer, Eric." I raised my voice so the onlookers could hear. "I nursed you. Through cancer. Remember?"

  "I do. And I will always be grateful."

  My hands were shaking, wanting to throttle him. I took a deep breath. Glanced around at my fellow diners, who were rapt, save for Jonathan. Thank you for not caring about anything, Captain Flatline. For once, it was in the plus column.

  I chugged my wine and refilled the glass.

  "How is dinner tonight?" the waiter asked, smiling.

  "It's great! Fantastic. Best I ever had," I said. I took another defiant bite of lobster "My boyfriend is just about to propose."

  "No, I'm not," Eric said. "We're breaking up."

  "Oh! Uh...I'll let you decide, then." The server backed away.

  Eric pushed back from the table as if to leave.

  "No, no, no," I said, wiping my mouth. "We're still talking. You stay right here." He closed his eyes briefly but obeyed.

  Okay. Eric always shut down when I was mad, so I wouldn't be mad. I'd be logical.

  "Eric," I said in a calmer voice, "honey, I know you really liked Nathan. And I know--believe me, I know--how terrifying this past year and a half has been. It's natural to reexamine your life."

  "Thank you for understanding," he said.

  "No, no, not yet," I said. "Look. I understand you want to, uh, live life large. But you don't dump the person who's been with you, by your side, for eleven years, who adores you and wants to have your children, who helped fight your battle with cancer--" yes, yes, bring up his favorite subject "--who cleaned up your puke and gave you sponge baths."

  Let my fellow diners suck on that little tidbit. Granted, the sponge bath was one time, and it was more like a practice run (at Eric's suggestion) in case he got so weak that I'd have to do it for real. We ended up playing Naughty Nurse. He could also chew on that for a minute.

  "You were wonderful," he admitted.

  "Thank you, honey. In sickness and in health, right? In my mind, we're as married as can be. You said the same thing. The paper is just a formality, you said."

  "Oh, sweetheart, my old boyfriend used that same line on me," murmured a blonde woman to my left. "Right until he left me for his third cousin."

  I ignored her. Clearly, she and I had nothing in common. "Eric, I think you're just...reacting. Nathan's death has hit us all hard. But breaking up...no."

  It just would not be allowed. I would not allow it.

  He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I...I knew you'd say that. I'm sorry, Ains. I really didn't mean to hurt you, and I acknowledge that I have. That I am. I own that. But I need to start over. I need to go to Alaska."

  "Why? So you can be a crab fisherman?"

  "I'm going to take three months and camp in Denali."

  "This from the man who can't go outside after dark because of the mosquitoes. What about grizzly bears and wolves? You'll be eaten within an hour."

  He smiled. "I need to change. I need to live life to the fullest. I was given a second chance. Nathan wasn't. I can't ignore that, Ainsley."

  "Well, you can't break up with me, either." I smiled firmly. "What about Ollie, huh? You can't leave us."

  He smiled back sadly. His eyes, those brown eyes that I loved, were a little shiny.

  I hate to break it to you, my brain said, but he looks like a man resolved.

  My own eyes started to fill. "Eric," I whispered. "I love you. I've loved you my entire adult life. If you need to go to Alaska, that's fine! That's great! I'll go with you. Or not. Go and come back. But we...we love each other."

  He reached across the table, his hand so familiar on mine. "That was true."

  "It still is!"

  "For you, maybe. But I have to do this. I know you think this is a knee-jerk reaction, but I've thought about this constantly since Nathan died, and the truth is, I haven't been happy for a long time."

  That one stabbed me in the heart. Like a child telling his mother he doesn't love her, even if she knows it's not true. The words still sliced right through.

  "I don't believe you," I whispered.

  "It's true. Our life is not the one I want."

  No, because who would want unconditional love and fun and friendship and happiness and security and great sex...and...and... My chest was hitching. "Then you're an idiot," I managed.

  "You haven't been happy, either. That job of yours doesn't fulfill you. It's a huge step-down from NBC. You complain about it all the time."

  I glanced at Jonathan. Sure, now he was listening. "But our life fulfills me," I said to Eric. "I'm very happy. My job," I added, lowering my voice, "will be fine until something better comes along."

  "But that's the lesson of Nathan's life! You might not get something better coming along!" He leaned forward, eyes intent on me. "Don't you see, Ains?"

  "No, I don't see a damn thing! I repeat. You're not thinking clearly. We should get married. It's time. Don't be ridiculous."

  "I'm sorry to hurt you. I really am."

  "You did not invite me to this gorgeous dinner to dump my ass, Eric."

  "I thought, wrongly, that you wouldn't make a scene here."

  "You want a scene? I'll give you a scene! How can you do this to me? How can you be so selfish?"

  "I guess you're well rid of me, aren't you?"

  He's not serious. He'll rethink this. "I'm going to leave now," I said. My throat felt like it was jammed with broken glass. "I'll see you at home."

  "I'll be at my parents' house tonight."

  "Fine! By all means, go home to Mommy. Maybe she can talk some sense into you."

  "Again, Ainsley, I'm so sorry, and I'll always be grateful you were my partner during my cancer journey."

  "Oh, shut up."

  I rose from the table and glanced at my lobster. Considered taking it with me. Decided it wouldn't be a dignified exit if I had a crustacean clutched to my breast.

  This wasn't really happening. He couldn't break up with me. We were special.

  *

  I spent a restless night, alternating between fury, confusion and the urge to drive to Greenwich and slap him silly. I also stomped through the house, with Ollie bouncing after me with his blanket, trying to f
ind my engagement ring.

  I didn't find it. But I did open the box that contained every single card Eric had ever given me, every note, every funny little drawing.

  The notes made my eyes spill over with tears. He loved me. I knew that. It was right there in black and white.

  In the garage, I found a huge box from Eastern Mountain Sports, containing a tent, cooking gear, hiking boots, hiking socks, hiking shirts, hiking shorts, hiking hat. Eric was nothing if not a man addicted to gear, after all. There was a subzero sleeping bag, backpack and trekking poles (to ensure he'd look like a total ass if he did manage to get on a trail). There was even bear repellent.

  So he was Cheryl Strayed now? Taking a hike to find himself? That was so last year!

  I resisted the urge to burn everything camping-related, went inside and turned on our giant TV. Watched Game of Thrones, ate Wheat Thins dipped in Nutella (I should've taken that lobster, damn it) and tried to distract myself by lusting after Jon Snow, Ollie in my lap.

  It didn't work.

  Tears leaked out of my eyes. This was the worst fight we'd ever had. Ever.

  I was scared. In eleven years together, we'd never once talked about breaking up.

  This had to be a blip on the screen of our life together. This wouldn't last. He loved me. He loved our dog. He loved our life together. How many times had he told me that? A hundred? More?

  But my heart seemed to be shivering.

  I didn't get much sleep that night.

  Eric's mother called me in the morning. "He's here," she said. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's being an idiot."

  There was a rattle in the background. "Are you making him pancakes?" I asked. Judy's pancakes were the stuff of legend, and she made them every time we came for breakfast.

  "He's hungry. Here, Eric," she said, her voice growing distant as she breasted the phone. Yes, I knew her that well. "There's bacon. I'm on the phone with Ainsley, you know, Ainsley--" her voice came back louder "--the woman who loves you? Remember her? Ainsley, sweetheart, I want you to know that Aaron and I are completely ashamed at how our son has treated you."

  "I appreciate that."

  "It's like he's forgetting the most important person in his life," she boomed. "Here's the butter, honey. Quitting his job? A job that pays him that salary plus a Cadillac health-care program, plus that office and his nice secretary? And the gym, Ainsley! Right there in the building? The gym!" Judy had always been dazzled by Eric's Wall Street office. "Not so much syrup, baby, it's just sugar, you know. Anyway, we told him he was being a fool. Alaska! Who lives in Alaska? He'll die in Alaska."