“2.5 children and a house in the suburbs. Yours?”
He nods. “The same. But are you open as to which suburbs?”
I feel this enormous lump in my throat, like I’ve just swallowed an olive whole. I want to smile and laugh this off, but he’s completely serious. “Like San Francisco suburbs or San Jose suburbs? Is that what you mean? I just assumed since Stanford is right in the middle, we’d—”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.” My cell phone starts to trill, but I ignore it with ease this time and just hit Silent. “I mean, wouldn’t you enjoy being a lawyer in the city of brotherly love? Philadelphia?”
Philadelphia.
“Home of the Liberty Bell, the design of the American flag—and is there anything else? I can’t say I’ve been to Philly. The cheesesteak! It’s also home to the cheesesteak. I knew I was forgetting something.”
“The Constitution. You’re forgetting the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and being a lawyer, I just assumed you’d go there before the cheesesteak.”
“Philadelphia has seasons, I’m assuming.”
“Most places have seasons, Ashley. You’re just living in a bubble being a native Californian. Wouldn’t you love to have a little adventure in your life before we settle down with kids?”
“I like my bubble. Lived in my bubble all my life. I like the ocean and the sunshine and the occasional foggy morning when I want to really mix things up. I like that my convertible is a year-round vehicle and that I can get espresso whenever the urge strikes. I like that all the geeks of the world like me are concentrated in one geek-friendly environment. No one cares here if you had a date to the prom, because they didn’t either. Oh sure, maybe those sophisticated types who live in San Francisco. But us real Silicon Valley types, we’re comfortable with the fact that the AV technician was our friend, if not us.”
“They have espresso in Philadelphia, and if you joined Mensa, you could probably meet some fellow dweebs,” Kevin says, again smiling with a little too much enthusiasm.
“Why the sudden interest in Philadelphia, Kev? I thought you were happy at Stanford.”
“This is just a discussion, nothing more at this point. So don’t get upset, all right?”
Bracing for impact. “Yes?”
“I got offered a fellowship in pediatric surgery at the children’s hospital there. It’s the only teaching hospital in the United States that offers fetal surgery as part of the residency program.”
The air has left my lungs with a Nike swoosh. I write patents, but my husband-to-be performs life-changing surgery on infants still in their mothers’ wombs. Or at least he could. As I sit here, looking into his eyes, I see the future I’d planned quickly evaporating. Slowly, the truth descends upon me like molten lava. You don’t marry a pediatric surgeon and merrily go about your business.
“Are you two ready to order?” the granola-girl waitress asks us.
“Could you give us a minute?” Kevin asks.
She looks at Kevin longer than necessary and readily agrees. As most any woman does when he has a request.
“Ashley, are we discussing this? Because I need to know if it’s a possibility or not.” I look in his eyes, and he’s practically begging for my support. It’s obvious this is not something he can let go of without regret. Therefore, how can I let go of it?
“You’re at one of the finest hospitals in the country, Kevin. I don’t understand. Lucille Packard–Stanford Medical School. They sort of have a reputation going on, you know?” But even as I suggest it, I feel sick to my stomach. How do I make the man I love happy without giving up everything I love?
“I’m just a junior resident at Stanford, Ashley. It’s my second year in pediatric residency. There’s nothing here that makes me stand out when it’s time to move on. I’d be chief resident in Philly, and I’d get the opportunity to perform fetal surgery. Not to mention more than thirteen hundred hours at the operating table. It’s my dream, Ashley, and the operating time is so limited here in comparison. Do you know what it’s like for me to get time in the operating room now? I could do more laparoscopic studies, and I’d have my own secretary to help with the paperwork on research studies.”
I nod, hearing everything and yet nothing at all.
“Let’s agree to continue the dialogue at least,” Kevin says.
Dialogue? Do you hear any dialogue? “When did you find out about this?”
“I applied before we met. I want to do fetal surgery, Ashley. I have ever since I witnessed Michael Harrison perform neonatal surgery years ago in San Francisco. I just knew that was my calling. The intricacy of it just beckoned me.”
I nod my head subconsciously. “Of course you do. You need to do this.”
“I’m not going without you, Ashley,” he says like a martyr.
“I couldn’t be an attorney there, Kevin. I’d have to retake the Bar, and the patent Bar, and have to wait for the results to be posted. It could be a year or more before I worked.”
“You could work as a law clerk until that happened.” He’s clearly thought about this.
I look into Kevin’s pleading eyes. His light brown hair is tousled from the night’s work, and the fine lines on his forehead are deepening. Just in the short time since I’ve known him, he looks years older. “Kevin, this job already takes everything out of you. Can you do anything more?”
He squeezes my hand tighter. “Please go with me, Ashley. If you won’t go, I’ll stay here, but—”
“But I’ll crush your dream.” I throw up my hands. “What is it with me and men moving? I fall in love, and men immediately rush for higher ground. Be it the mission field in India like Seth or home of the Liberty Bell and fetal surgery, I make men move away.”
He laughs. “I told you, I won’t move without you. I’m committed to us—to our marriage. As committed as Joseph was to Mary.” The waitress comes back. “We’ll have two orders of the San Jose Scramble and tea,” Kevin says dismissively.
“This job is really yours if you want it?”
“My father and the chief of surgery at Stanford recommended me. The chief agreed that I needed to pursue the fetal surgery. I have a gift for the intricate work.”
“When would we have to go?”
“I would go in two months, come back for the wedding, and you’d fly out to meet me and look for our house. That’s where my parents’ offer for the down payment comes in.”
I sit here with my head in my hands, trying to find the words. I want to tell him that I love him, that I’d follow him anywhere, but there’s nothing coming out of my mouth. There’s only the stark realization that love might take me across the country to a place I’ve never known, with a man I barely know. Compare that to my life in the Bay Area where I know every nook and cranny. Every ethnic, hole-in-the-wall restaurant. As I gaze into those tired green eyes, I hate that I’m even questioning. I love him, but do I love him enough?
“I know you don’t care for change, Ashley, but my parents will make sure we have a great place, and you’ll have time to explore your new environment. Right now, you just work.”
“Change is good,” I say, trying to convince myself. “When Bloomingdale’s changes its stock for the season, that’s good. When I get a new pair of shoes for a change in the weather, that’s good. But this . . . this is so big. I’d have to leave Kay and my house and my car. And your parents buying us a place? That doesn’t sound so good.” Putting it mildly. His parents in my housing arrangements? Completely not happening.
“You can bring everything but Kay. Rhett will come with us. We can find a place with a big yard for him, and you can call Brea every day if you need to.”
“And while you’re working nonstop, I’ll have no friends, a flunky job, and I’ll have to find a new church.” Is that my voice? Is there any thing worse than hearing aloud how truly selfish you are? And what a whiner! How, when given the opportunity of a lifetime to be a partner in saving unborn babies’ lives, can I be w
orried about a lack of sunshine, questionable coffee, and a convertible? I suck so bad.
Kevin exhales loudly. “It’s selfish of me to ask. I shouldn’t have, and if I didn’t want this so badly, I never would have.”
I feel the sting of tears prickling my eyes and the burning sensation in my nose. I’m looking at him, and he means it. He genuinely thinks he shouldn’t have asked me. His sacrifice tells me everything I need to know. “Just give me some time to get used to the idea. For it to settle in my bones.”
He gets up, comes over, and scoots into the chair beside me. He turns my face toward his and looks deep into my eyes. “I’ve got a good job at one of the best hospitals in the country. Whatever you decide, and I mean that.” Then he kisses me with firm lips right here in the restaurant.
“Get a room!” I hear a diner say, which breaks me into a giggle.
“I really shouldn’t hold your fate in my hands, Kevin. Actually, I probably shouldn’t hold the fate of a hamster in my hands. Just ask my dog. If Kay weren’t there to feed him, some days I don’t know that he’d make it with me traipsing to Taiwan all the time.”
“But I trust you completely with my fate, Ashley. I know you think you have this shallow exterior, but I also know who lurks within. The woman who fights for those she loves, holds her own in an engineering meeting, and will have me dressed properly for every function in my future.”
“That’s your misfortune to trust me with your fate.” I laugh as I say it.
“We’ll do the right thing. We’ve got guidance from above.” He moves back to his seat, oblivious to the fact that all eyes in the restaurant have just followed him like one of those eerie paintings.
“Maybe this is a sign.” I shrug.
“A sign?”
“Another sign, I should say.” I take a sip of my water. “Gainnet hired Seth as the new director of software.”
Kevin crosses his arms, rocks, and nods his head. “That’s interesting.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“You live the most intriguing life, Ashley Stockingdale. Why shouldn’t men from your past be pulled in like a superconducting magnet? Stalk you?” He lifts his eyebrows. “I did, and it worked for me.”
“Stop it. Seth’s not anywhere near me. He’s hardly stalking me. From what I hear he’s quite content with Arin, and they’re a couple. Kay told him about the job at Gainnet!”
He laughs again. “Kay’s a good woman. Besides, let him see what he lost. I like the idea.”
“You’re a bit cocky!”
“I am, but why shouldn’t I be? I’m marrying Ashley, and he’s most likely having dinner with Sam at his own expense. I don’t know what Arin wants in this life, Ashley, but I highly doubt it’s Seth. She doesn’t want any chains binding her down. Maybe that’s the attraction. They probably have the same cell phone service, and calling is free.”
“Are you saying Arin could do better?”
“Didn’t you?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I am. So tell me about my wedding.” Kevin sits back as the waitress puts his meal before him. Um, ladies first! He douses his eggs in Tabasco and closes his eyes for prayer. Taking my hand, he leads us and blows me a kiss at the end. He melts me, I’m telling you.
“About the wedding,” I say as I oversalt my eggs. “Well, your sister has definite ideas about our ceremony.”
“You two are getting along okay, aren’t you?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. I just was looking for California elegance in the ceremony. You know, sort of Vera Wang meets Colin Cowie.” Not really Southern sweet tea with crackers.
Kevin swallows his eggs. “In English, Ashley.”
“Vera Wang’s a bridal designer; Colin Cowie is Oprah’s party planner.”
“So what’s the problem?” Kevin shrugs. “Sounds simple enough. Emily is all about elegance. I know she doesn’t have as much shopping experience as you, but I thought you’d help her there.”
“Emily does have a certain Southern charm . . .” That I’m not sure really translates.
“Is something wrong, Ashley?”
I suck in a deep breath. The time has come to tell him that I can’t do this. I can’t get married with Emily planning the wedding, but he’s thinking about moving to Philadelphia. Do I really want to whimper about his sister’s crazy wedding plans?
“Keh-vin!” Speaking of crazy, Emily herself appears at the side of our table, her face twisted into the ugliest scowl I’ve seen to date. And trust me, I’ve seen some scowls! “Your fiancée stole my date last night!”
“I, uh . . .” This, of course, is an easy explanation. Although not exactly. Looking at Emily, I think my stalker may turn out to be female.
8
Catfight. I can see by Kevin’s stricken face, he definitely doesn’t know how to handle a catfight. Kevin pulls a chair over for Emily, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to sit. She wants to slit my throat, perhaps, but she doesn’t want to do eggs and bacon.
“There’s an explanation, Emily. Sit down. What would Ashley do with your date?” He sits up straight. “After all, she couldn’t exactly improve on perfection now, could she?” He winks at me across the table.
“She pawned my date off on her spinster roommate!”
Spinster. Now there’s a word you don’t hear everyday. Kevin hasn’t asked for my input yet, and as far as I’m concerned, we can just let this opportunity fly by without comment from moi. I shove a bit of egg in my mouth. Now is definitely a good time to eat.
“Calm down, Em. How did you get here, anyway?” Kevin asks.
“I rented a car. I got tired of being at everyone’s mercy to leave the house, and I called the rental place. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Perhaps if I had, I might have salvaged my date last night!” Emily’s eyes narrow in my direction, and Kevin finally looks at me.
I widen my eyes in mock innocence. I could start any number of places at this point: He was forty-five. She picked him up in a coffee bar. She was invited to his place for a party that didn’t exist. He’s celebrating his divorce. Worst of all, he’s a patent attorney. If that doesn’t say everything, well, I got nothing for you.
Emily continues while pointing at me, “She told me Matt left, but Matt really left her house with Kay. He had dinner with Kay last night! My date!”
“Is that true, Ashley?” Kevin asks, though I can see he’s only asking out of requirement. He could really care less about his sister’s dateless night. Maybe if she had more dateless nights, she might have a goal in life. Being too cute is a curse.
“Sort of,” I say with a shrug.
He keeps looking at me expectantly. Emily is sitting now, but her fists are on her hips and her foot is tapping. It’s not the most comforting pose, as there are knives within reach.
I look right at my future sister-in-law. “I didn’t think it was safe for Emily to go out with Matt. She didn’t even know him, and he was nearly twice her age,” I blurt, like the grown tattletale I am. If I was in junior high, I’d get beaten up for this.
“Is that true, Emily? Did you just meet this older person?”
“What business is it of hers if it’s true? Or yours? I’m not twelve, Keh-vin. I’m a grown woman, and I can see who I’d like to see. I know enough about men to know who to trust. She,” Emily says, pointing at me, “forced Matt’s attentions on her desperate roommate. He had no choice but to go out with her. It’s been a year since his divorce, and he needed—”
Kevin drops his fork suddenly, but he says nothing. I can see it in his eyes, though, that he finally gets my drift. “It’s my fault about last night, Emily. I was supposed to pick you up, remember? This whole thing is just a misunderstanding, and there’s no reason to blame Ashley. Or Kay,” Kevin says.
“When you couldn’t pick me up, Ashley had an obligation to come around for me. I’m all the way out here for her weddin’.” Emily holds up her Coach portfolio. “The least she could do is se
e that I had some entertainment for my weekend in California. I’m workin’ my fingers to the bone for her, and she doesn’t even appreciate it.” Emily flips her hair like a cartoon character—and pats the portfolio hiding the Martha Stewart fill-in wedding planner.
“I shouldn’t have treated you like a child, Emily. I’m sorry,” I say. “And you’re having a really good hair day,” I add, just for fun.
“Sorry? You’re sorry? Ever since I got out here it’s been like pullin’ teeth to get you to do anything for this weddin’. You’re a complete snob about the Tussy Mussy, you won’t even listen to my plans for the weddin’, and now you sabotage the only good time I had scheduled for this weekend.”
I look at Kevin. “I was just trying to protect her. You don’t go to men’s houses here without protection.”
“You, dear Ashley, are being ridiculous if you hope to get this weddin’ off the ground. I can’t believe my brothah thinks so little of himself as to marry you when you have proven yourself to be untrustworthy and disloyal.” Emily slams her hand down on the table and rises. She walks out without another word.
I shouldn’t have wasted the good hair comment.
Kevin stands and drops his keys near my plate. “I’d better get her. I’m sorry, Ash. I should have left you out of family problems. I’ll call you before the party today. I’ll get some rest, and I’ll be there if I can, all right?”
So there you go: not only have I just been yelled at in public by Scarlett I-need-some-Prozac O’Hara, but also I have been left alone in a restaurant so the patrons can discuss the “boyfriend napper” publicly. I shove a forkful of eggs in my mouth. A girl needs her protein, regardless.
After I pay the bill for breakfast, I look at my empty wallet with new insight. It’s a darling pink Coach wallet, and it has money written all over it. Unfortunately, it has no money in it. I’ve paid out deposits for the dress order that no longer exists, the flowers that are being reworked by Emily, and the swing band that will probably get vetoed. Altogether, there’s a rather large hole in my checking account. Getting stiffed for breakfast didn’t help either. Kevin ran after psycho sis without even paying the bill!
With This Ring, I'm Confused Page 7
