A Previous Engagement

by Stephanie Haddad

  The idea of it all scared me to death. I followed my heart to Christian, but once I reached my destination, I was a bit unclear about what would happen next. What could happen next, under the circumstances?

  Sunday afternoon, we took showers—or rather, a shower, of the sexy variety—and got dressed. He kissed me goodbye with the comfort of a long-time lover, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

  “Don’t forget,” he said over his shoulder. “Birch’s at six tonight. We’ll tell Kendra together.”

  I nodded, that familiar lump wedged in my throat, silencing my voice box. I knew Kendra would figure it out on her own if we didn’t tell her ourselves, and then she’d be pissed we were keeping secrets. Still, something held me back from spreading the good news. I didn’t even know what to call us anymore. Despite my desire to wait on making any announcements, Christian was dead-set on letting our friends and family in on our new-found happiness.

  I got back into the shower—to actually use it for its intended purpose—and let the hot water run over me in the hopes of quelling the screaming voice in my head. What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing to Christian? It wasn’t working.

  I dressed, careful to avoid anything too sexy or revealing, since we seemed to have enough trouble keeping our hands off one another. Then I checked email, retrieved the mail from my mailbox downstairs, and started making some preparations to pack for Chicago. I thought I’d been addressing the issue fairly logically until I opened up that suitcase. A fresh wave of guilt punched me in the stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

  Tonight. I had to tell him about the new job tonight. “Christian,” I practiced in front of the mirror. “I have something important to tell you. I’m moving to…” No, I couldn’t do it like that. “Christian, I’m sorry. This weekend was a mistake because I’m…” No, that’s not right either. “Christian, I’m an idiot.” Much better.

  Maybe I should just leave and not say anything…

  ****

  Christian picked me up and drove to Birch’s—the first odd thing about an otherwise routine meet-up. He held my hand in the car—weird thing number two—and beamed from ear-to-ear, clearly bursting with the excitement.

  Claudia, the usual week-night hostess at Birch’s, sat us at our usual table and put in our usual drink order, tapped Robert to be our usual server, and left us alone while she alerted Kendra of our arrival. I slid into the booth first and Christian slipped in next to me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. Claimed territory, gentlemen.

  “Oh. My. God.” Kendra’s voice made it to the table before she did. I straightened up, resisting the urge to shake off Christian’s arm. When she finally came into view, still wearing her chef’s coat, she had a mischievous smile slapped onto her face. “You two did it! I’m calling Grant, right now.”

  Aside from the breaking news story, dinner with the four of us seemed perfectly…normal. We sat in the same seats, ate the same food, laughed all the same. The only real change was in the chemistry happening on my side of the booth, and the madness reeling in my brain. Weird, weird, weird. Everything was weird.

  I saw all our regular activities through new lenses. Christian offered me a forkful of his pot roast and it was like some strange kind of foreplay. His elbow brushed against mine and I wanted to tear off his clothes. Every time our eyes connected, I felt a jolt of electricity. Kendra just sat on her side of the booth, a knowing smile screwed tightly onto her face.

  She followed me into the bathroom after the dinner plates had been cleared from the table, and slapped me on the arm.

  “You listened to me! I can’t believe this,” Kendra was beaming when she tackled me in a hug. “You never follow my advice. I’m so proud of you.”

  I struggled against her crushing grasp. “Thanks.”

  She let me go and I filled my lungs with fresh air, just in case there would be a secondary attack. “So… I guess I’m supposed to ask you those girlfriend questions now, right?”

  I frowned at her. “You really want to know the gory details?”

  She paused for a minute, chewing on her lip. “I guess you’re right. It’s kind of weird for me, talking about Christian like that. He’s like my brother, so… I’ll pass.” She washed her hands in the sink and I reached for a paper towel to dry my own. A moment later, she twisted the tap off and sprinkled water in my face. “You’re killing me, Tess. At least tell me how he was.”

  I grinned, concentrating on drying my hands.

  “Shut up!” she hit me again. “I’m so glad you’re not moving to Chicago!” The second hug came just as powerfully as the first, just as I opened my mouth to tell her. As we stood there, Kendra happier than she’d been in months, I just couldn’t do it. I let the moment pass and we rejoined the guys for dessert.

  “Well, it’s finally time to make it official,” she said, shifting topics away from me and my new boyfriend—oh weird—onto herself. “We’re expecting! I’m due the sixteenth of November.”

  Even though we both knew, Christian and I made a big fuss over the announcement. Underneath the table, he squeezed my hand and I knew what it meant before I looked into his eyes. He wanted that, what Kendra and Grant had. Marriage. Family. Vacations. Everything I’d sworn I never ever wanted from my life—except vacations, sexy vacations. Although his life goals weren’t a surprise to me, the previous seventy-hours was the first time I’d been factored into his picture of the future…well, at least to my knowledge. Christian wanted a family and he wanted it with me.

  Crap.

  I babysat all the time in high school, enough to put away some money for my college textbooks and some of the tuition. It was not a favorite past-time of mine, but I did it because that’s what teenage girls did for work back then. I would sit on the couch after the kids went to bed, exhausted and harried, often chatting on the phone with Kendra or Christian to pass the remaining time.

  “I could never do this,” I often said to Christian. “These kids are crazy.”

  He always laughed. “Come on, it’s not so bad. My dad always says that when the kids are yours, it’s more fun than it is work.”

  “Maybe… But I don’t think I’m cut out for this stuff.”

  As I lay in bed that night, remembering the earliest of my vows for a child-free future, Christian stirred slightly in his sleep. Although he hadn’t mentioned children at all that night after dinner, I couldn’t help thinking it was on his mind as he ripped of my clothes and had his way with me. I mean, after the first few minutes, I forgot about that completely and just enjoyed the action—but at first, I wondered if it turned him on. I knew what he wanted from his life. By the same token, he knew what I wanted from mine. How could this end without one of us getting hurt?

  ****

  By Tuesday afternoon, I couldn’t hide from Savannah anymore. I’d made a point to avoid her in the kitchenette, at lunch time, and during meetings. Her eyes were puffy and red two days running and I knew I was in for a long, tearful conversation when she finally caught up to me. Unfortunately, she finally decided to track me down in the one place I was sure to be a captive audience: my office.

  I was busily working on a to-do list to get my head straight for Chicago when my office door flew open and slammed into the wall. The reverberations knocked one of Christian’s prints free of its nail. It crashed to the floor, sending shards of glass in every direction, tearing through the photo of the daisies.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I just had to see you!” Savannah, a sobbing mess, wrung her hands. Pain consumed her face, reminding me of those sad-faced clowns at the circus. Granted, the running mascara pooling beneath her eyes might have played a factor. “It’s Christian! He dumped me!”

  “I know,” I said coldly, so not in the mood for any additional drama atop the huge conflict battling in my brain. Besides, did she honestly think Christian didn’t tell me everything? It was bad enough that she thought he’d never be interested in me, but to insult the depth of
our friendship like that…

  “You knew? Did you know he was going to do it? You could have warned me! I don’t know what I did wrong! I was a perfect girlfriend! I wanted to have his babies, Tess. I’m still in love with him! What am I supposed to now?” She was manic, pounding her fist on the back of the wingback chair so hard it came up off the front legs every time. I bolted up from my desk and closed the door.

  “Keep it down,” I scolded, handing her my dust pan and hand-broom to clean up the broken glass. “This is really inappropriate.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

  What the hell was she talking about? She had about eighty-five friends in the office. I ignored her and just decided that the fastest way to get her out of here was to just let her cry it out. I gingerly removed the print from the mangled frame, careful to keep the torn sides in line with each other, and brought it back to my desk. While Savannah rambled about making babies, I taped the tear back together to the best of my ability. When I flipped it back right-side up, it was back together but it didn’t look quite right.

  Savannah was still gabbing away. “I didn’t even see this coming. He just said there was someone else, but I have no idea how that happened. He never mentioned any—Did he say something to you? I need to get him back, Tess. Please help me.”

  At that, I put my hand in the air, a very Marty-like gesture to stop her talking. It worked, as it had on Jake and other interns many times over—myself included. “Savannah, please. I have a raging headache, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now and I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything to help you. Could you leave me out of this? I’m not the person you should be talking to about it anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  That competitive gene in me wanted a small victory against her. It was petty and stupid, especially because it turned Christian into a pawn, made what we had seem like a game. I just wanted her to see how she’d underestimated me. And my charm? Good looks? Whatever it was that made Christian love me over her.

  My stomach clenched. I needed her to get out. “He did tell me something, you know. Christian did. He said you tried too hard at being perfect. It annoyed him.”

  “Then I’ll try trying less hard.” The irony of her own words was lost on her.

  “I don’t think that’s going to work,” I replied stiffly. “If there’s someone else, don’t you think it’s better for you to move on?”

  Savannah hung her head, the wind officially knocked from her sails. “Okay. Good luck, Tess. And congratulations on the promotion. I’m going to miss you.”

  “Thank you.” I forced a smile. “I’ll… miss you too.”

  “Keep in touch?” she looked at me hopefully. I understood then that without her social time, Savannah was lost. She valued the human connection above most other things, except the gift of her own voice box. She needed this interaction, these relationships, to survive. It wasn’t that deplorable, I just found it grating. Maybe from Chicago it wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Sure. Email’s best.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  For over a week I lived a double life. At Prime, the universe was buzzing with the announcement of my promotion and pending transfer to Chicago. At home, Christian and I were playing house and enjoying the bliss of being a new couple. I liked both feelings so much that my good mood carried through my deceit. Out one side of my mouth, I talked big about the move, and out the other, I told Christian how much I cared about him.

  It wasn’t until nighttime came, when the silence invited my deepest, darkest thoughts to come out and play, that I really thought about what I was doing. I spent several nights tossing and turning, alone with my insomnia and the dull ache in my heart. Almost worse than cheating on him, I was keeping the truth from Christian. He needed to know what was happening. Eventually, I had to get on a plane.

  Running away wasn’t my style, but it seemed an appealing option in light of breaking Christian’s heart and facing death by Kendra’s cooking tools. Still, after a second weekend spent in bed with him, I had to tell Christian the truth.

  Of course, I didn’t expect to find him in my apartment that Monday night, so I wasn’t ready with my speech yet. Christian greeted me in an apron—seriously—with a spatula in his hand. The wafting fragrance of food met me in the doorway. He hugged and kissed me in the way our new status dictated, and I plucked a piece of shredded cheese from his hair.

  “Did you cook?” I was baffled, impressed, and slightly jealous.

  “Well, we’ll have to see,” he shrugged. “I decided to give lasagna a try. I hope it’s not totally disgusting.”

  As we made plates and sat down at the table, adorned with a table cloth and candles for a more romantic feeling, I learned that Christian had spent some time studying Kendra in her kitchen. She gave him the easiest recipe in her book, some helpful hints—which he made her write down, he showed me the paper—and a shopping list. He raided the closest grocery store, let himself into my apartment, and spent the afternoon cooking.

  I took my seat at the table and noticed the filled wine glass. White, just as I liked it. There was garlic bread with cheese, the way I liked it. And a salad, with the tomatoes and olives on a plate on the side, the way I liked it. I supposed that’s how it would be if I dated Christian—very little to learn about each other, many years of knowledge to go on.

  Date. I was on a date with Christian. Starting to panic, I shoveled some hot lasagna into my mouth. It was too hot, so I burned my tongue, yelled out, and tried to douse it with ice water. Most guys would’ve been worried, but Christian already knew what I’d done. “Sorry, it’s red hot. You okay?” he asked calmly. “More ice water?”

  It wasn’t really like a date. It was just like hanging out with a friend. My stomach twisted into a knot. Sure, Tessa, if you called what you’ve been doing in that bedroom a typical, friend-like activity. I’m pretty sure it was much, much more than that.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. He was looking at me with those eyes. Those damn eyes. Looking right through me, like he could read my mind. Could he read my mind? Did he know about the job? Did Kendra tell him? I’ll kill her.

  “I’m really glad this happened, Tessie,” Christian said, taking my hand across the table. He pinched his brown eyebrows together in sincerity, but I scoffed at him. I should’ve played it cool. Why can’t I ever play it cool?

  “Please. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Why?” He squeezed my hand. My palm was sweaty, nearly on fire there inside of his. When did this physiological stuff start happening to me, anyway? All of a sudden my body just decided, Wow, we’re going to get majorly turned on every time we see, hear, smell, touch, or think about Christian.

  “Because it’s not what I want,” I said, careful to keep my tone level but firm. I pulled my hand from his and used it to chug some more of my iced water, hoping to drown the butterflies dancing inside my stomach. “You didn’t have to do all of this. I don’t want this, Christian.”

  “All of what? You don’t want me?”

  “No, that’s not it. That’s not what I mean at all. I just—where is this going to go? Where can it go? We’ve been friends for so long and now we’re—I don’t know what we are. But I’m afraid one of us will get hurt.”

  “Well, at least one of us has been getting hurt for the better part of a decade.” Did he mean me or him? One look at my face, distorted in pain and confusion, and he added, “Possibly both of us.”

  He reached for me again, this time around the corner of the table, and held my hand on top of my own knee. “It’s been utter madness not being able to do this, Tessie. It took a long time to see it, but it’s always been you. Imagine if you felt the same and you couldn’t tell me because you thought it would destroy our friendship?”

  I froze, ignoring the tingling feeling that spread from where he touched my skin all the way up my arm, to the back of my neck. Give me a client to pitch a new ad campaign to, and I’m your g
irl. Give me a man that claims he’s in love with me, and well… I don’t know. I’d never been in that situation before.

  “Christian,” I tried to sound serious, not like my body was yearning for more of his touch. “I just think we should—”

  He patted my knee under the table and smiled at me. “I know exactly what you’re going to say and I totally agree.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” he leaned over and kissed me sweetly on the lips. “And I think it’s a great idea.”

  I loosened my grip on my napkin, smoothing it out on my lap. I let myself breathe. “Oh good,” I sighed. I hadn’t thought it would be so easy to start this difficult conversation, but Christian’s mind-reading powers had triumphed again.

  “In fact, I want to show you something. Come on,” he stood up, pulling me with him. “Close your eyes.”

  He led me down the hallway, stopping in front of my bedroom door. “Okay, open them.”

  My bedroom looked the same as always: the bed was made, a row of pillows propped in front of the headboard, a dusty book rested on my night stand. One slight change, however, made all the difference in the room. Christian’s suitcase sat open on the bed, filled with neatly folded shirts and boxers, rolled socks, and other essentials. I walked into the room, inhaling sharply, and looked around for other additions. Flinging open the closet door, I discovered that he’d spent some time reorganizing my clothing and shoes to make room for his own.

  “You’re…” I was speechless, overwhelmed by the sight of our belongings mingling together in the closet like we were really—we were a—we were together. My stomach lurched, protesting the waltz of the butterflies. “You’re moving in?”

  He stood behind me, grinning proudly. “Surprise! I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t wait for you to ask. I found the moving boxes you had stashed in the hall closet with the note that said ‘Tell Christian’ and I thought I’d turn your surprise around on you.”