Page 3

I glance up from the reports I’m looking over when I hear a knock at my office door the next morning.

“Are you up for happy hour today? Gilberts at three?” Mandy asks.

I nod. “Definitely. It’s been a week, but I can only stay for maybe one drink. Owen wants to go see that new movie with Chris Evans and we’re going to grab dinner before.”

“Ooh. I’d never pass up the opportunity to stare at my favorite Chris on the big screen.” She says it dreamily, and I giggle. “I’ll see who else wants in.”

I shoot her a thumbs up.

“What’s made it a week?” she asks, inviting herself in and leaning on the doorframe.

I close my eyes as I rub my own shoulders for a beat, and I feel the tightness from tension in them.

“I think I’m just tired of all the meetings, you know? I became a reading specialist so I could make an impact, so I could help kids love reading as much as I do, and it’s all paperwork and meetings. I feel like maybe ten percent of the time I’m actually working with kids, and the other ninety percent of the time I’m following protocol.” I hold up a pile of papers I’m going through.

She nods. “I get it. Teaching isn’t all rainbows and glitter, either. It’s nothing like I thought it would be when I was going to college, to be honest.”

“Sometimes I think I’d prefer to be an after-school tutor instead, you know? But the pay would suck, and right now I want to save up for a possible wedding.” I shrug.

“A possible wedding? Is there something you’re not telling me?” she demands. “As your work wife, I deserve to know if you’re marrying someone else.”

I laugh. “No, he hasn’t proposed. But we’ve been together three years. It’s the next logical step at this point in our lives, right?”

She lifts a shoulder. “I guess. Is that what you want?”

I think of my sister and her two babies and her boyfriend and her perfect life. It’s all I want. Marriage, kids, the happily ever after. My sister is two years younger than me, and I keep wondering when it’ll be my turn. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She wrinkles her nose. “With him, though?”

My brows dip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I just…” she trails off. “Let’s talk at happy hour, okay? I have to run copies before my kids come back from music.”

“Just tell me what you mean before you go.”

“You’re a ten, Vic,” she says softly. “Owen? He’s a seven at best.”

“A seven ? He’s way hotter than a seven!”

“Right. Hotter, yes. But his personality…it drops him to a seven.” She shrugs, and she shoots me an apologetic look.

I sigh. It’s not news that she’s not Owen’s biggest fan. The two of them have never gotten along, but I always sort of assumed it was because she hates that I always leave happy hour to go home to him.

I wonder what she’d think about the Vegas Aces football player who hit on me last night.

“What’s wrong with his personality?” I ask rather than bringing that up right now.

But truthfully…I haven’t quite been able to push him or the football player or that non-tummy flip he incited out of my mind.

It was the bright blue eyes, maybe. Or the dark hair that was just a little too long on top, or the beard that says he just doesn’t care. Owen shaves every morning. His cheeks are smooth as silk. He’s a good guy. He’s loyal, and I’m only the second woman he’s ever been with, unlike the football player who beds a new conquest daily.

I force him out of my head while I wait for Mandy to explain what’s so wrong with the silky-cheeked Owen.

“Let’s talk later, okay?” She’s practically begging, but I feel like I need answers right now.

“Why do you hate him?”

“I don’t hate him,” she protests, holding both hands up. “Sometimes he’s just a little controlling. It seems like you bend over backwards to make him happy. But does he ever do things to make you happy?” She glances down the hallway. “I need to run. We’ll talk more after school, okay?”

She bolts down the hall, and I stare at the open doorway as I let her words settle onto my already tense shoulders.

Does he ever do things to make me happy?

I want to see the new Jennifer Lawrence movie more than I want to see the new Chris Evans movie, but I deferred to Owen and told him to get tickets to whichever. I’ll want to eat popcorn while we’re there, and he’ll want to eat Skittles, so we’ll settle for Skittles. We’ll share a Pepsi instead of the orange Fanta I’d prefer. We’ll go to the five o’clock showing instead of a little later since he thinks there will be a bigger crowd later even though it’ll impede on my happy hour with my friends.

I never realized how much I’ve been sacrificing in this relationship because it always felt like the little things. I’ll see the Jennifer Lawrence movie eventually , right? And I can get popcorn another time. It doesn’t really matter. I don’t need popcorn to survive.

But eventually those little things I’m sacrificing will become big things.

If I want two kids and he wants one or three or none, we’ll have one or three or none.

If I want a quiet wedding on a beach since it’s my family’s tradition and he wants a church wedding, we’ll marry in a church.

If I want a minivan but he doesn’t, we won’t get one.

It’s the first time I’ve realized that we don’t really compromise. He gets his way even if he has to coerce or manipulate until I just give in, and I never really noticed it until Mandy pointed it out.

I’ve become comfortable. I find myself living for a routine instead of for being happy.

It’s something we can work on, surely. It wasn’t always like that. We’ve just fallen into complacency. He used to go into an office and be around other people, but now he works from home. Sometimes the only person he talks to all day is me, and sometimes I feel bad for him because of that so I let the little things go.

I’m sure if I just point it out to him, he’ll see it too. We’ll fix it.

I love him, and he loves me. We’re mostly happy together…I think.

Sure, he annoys me from time to time, but after three years together and living together for the last six months, doesn’t everyone get annoyed once in a while?

We can figure this out so we can continue on the path toward the future I long for—marriage, kids, a big house, a dog.

Well, scratch the dog. He’s allergic.

In any event, I met a boy, and we’re on our way toward the sort of happily ever afters I read about in my spicy books.

Except the spice in real life is spotty lately, and the happily part is sketchy. But we’ll get there. After the movie tonight, I’ll talk to him about my concerns, and we’ll work on things.

Because if we don’t put in the work now, the other option is starting over…and that’s just not something I want to do at twenty-six after I’ve invested three years into this relationship.