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Or, worse—he’ll move into The Serendipity.

Another fun fact: while we were dating, our moms became best friends. They stayed best friends, despite the circumstances. I think they secretly hoped we’d get back together. That I’d change my mind and, in grand gesture fashion, hop on a plane to Paris and tell Trey I made a huge mistake, the Eiffel Tower a glittering backdrop to my apology.

Though I sometimes regretted my decision early on, I did not change my mind. I did not get on a plane.

Did I hope Trey would give up the job and come back for me? At first, yes. Yes, I did.

But the longer time went on, the more I realized that our breakup was a gift. Because the way Trey handled not only the decision about his job but the proposal showed me something I had missed about his character.

I wouldn’t want to marry a man who would make a choice to take a job halfway across the world without consulting me. Where’s the partnership in that? My dad consults my mombefore downloading a new app on his phone. Which might be a littletoo muchtogetherness, but it works for them.

And though Trey was, according tohismother, who toldmymother, crushed,he’sthe one who put me in an impossible position. Leave home for Paris to be together. Or … lose everything.

I wouldn’t want to marry a man who turns proposals into ultimatums.

His love had limits. Even if most people—particularly his parents and our mutual friends—didn’t understand it.

My parentsmostlydid, once I finally admitted my reasons for saying no.

But I think they were still deeply saddened and, at first, held me responsible rather than seeing Trey’s proposal as what it was: a test.

I wasn’t the one who failed.Hedid—by giving me a test in the first place.

Still. Knowing that Trey was in the wrong didn’t stop it from breaking my heart. Maybe it broke it evenmore. The betrayal ran deeper than I could ever express in words.

I think only Sophie truly understands. I hope I have enough leftover icing forthisdiscussion when I get back to The Serendipity.

“I’ll be fine. Iamfine,” I say loudly, as though volume will give my words more weight. “It’s been almost five years. I’ve moved on.”

In theory, anyway. Because I haven’t moved on in terms of a relationship.

Before boring Paul, my most recent attempt at dating, I went out with a handful of guys whose faces and names are largely forgettable or, at the least, interchangeable.

Not memorable, not serious.

Not Trey.

Which, I remind myself now, is agoodthing. I’ve had years to perform an extensive post-mortem on our relationship and finally saw the proposal as a pattern. Trey didn’t just make that one choice without me.

We somehow slipped into a dynamic where he made all the choices, all the time, and I went along with them, all the time. I think I told myself in those moments I was being easy-going and low-conflict, when really I was stifling things I wanted and letting Trey’s opinions eclipse mine. Until I had none of my own.

Again, our breakup was a good thing.

“And he’s engaged,” Mom says.

I can’t help it. I gasp.

I know her intention was to rip the Band-Aid off, but Band-Aids shouldn’t always be ripped off. Sometimes, they should be left until all the painful sticky residue disappears and it slips off on its own, revealing a perfectly healed wound underneath.

“I told you not to do it that way,” Dad says. “You can’t just blurt out something like that about the love of her life being engaged.”

Mom reaches over to pat my hand while directing her words at Dad. “Andyoucan’t still call him the love of her life!”

He throws up his hands. “I’m just speaking the truth!”

“So am I!”

The thing about my parents being ridiculously in love is that the same passion carries over into their fights. Mom and Dad both have alotof feelings. Good and bad. Ones they like to express at full volume.