Getting Married by Theresa Alan Read Free Book Online

look at the clock. It’s nearly six o’clock. I’ve managed to squander my entire day with dreams of wedding bliss rather than doing my job. That’s one of the really hard things about owning your own business. When you slack off, you’re the only one who pays for it. It’s not like you’re sticking it to the man, you’re just sticking it to yourself. Alas.

    Will and I see each other just about every night, unless we have a girls only or boys only kind of event with friends. He usually gets home from work around six, so I drive to his house in downtown Denver and wait for him there; he gave me keys to his place after we’d just been dating about a couple of weeks. With any other guy, I would have thought it was too fast, but everything just felt so right with Will.

    Will’s condo is a small, nicely decorated place. He’s got the same taste in furniture and decorations that I do. Light wood floors, classy paintings, and a modern pale green couch. His hallway is lined with pictures of him and his friends. I hate, hate, hate the pictures where I can see his gold wedding ring. I hate having photographic evidence that he was married to somebody else. If we get married, he’ll have to get a platinum ring so we’ll have color-coded evidence to be able to figure out who he was married to at the time the picture was taken. Of course, the fact that he’s lost a good portion of the hair on his head would also be a clue, but the wedding ring color will be the ultimate test.

    As I stand in the hallway, looking at him wearing a wedding ring representing a marriage to another woman, my mood just sinks. Suddenly I don’t know if I can marry a man who was married to someone else, even if I do have a guest list all written out back home. I want a guy without a past, without entanglements. Everything seems too hard and too messy and I want to break up with him and run away from the pain I feel when I think about him and X together.

    Will opens the door, and I feel a flush of guilt for speculating on the possible demise of our relationship. I wish I could just believe in happily-ever-after without having bursts of doubt and insecurity.

    We kiss and hug. I love the first after-work kiss and hug of the day. All the fears I battle all day rush out for that moment and I feel happy and safe and secure.

    “I’m starving,” I report.

    “Good. I was thinking I’d take you to this little hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant.”

    “Okay. Sounds great.”

    “I can’t believe I haven’t taken you to it before. You’re going to love it.”

    He’s right about the restaurant. It’s great. We have saganaki and Greek salad to start and then share a nice meal. We discuss how we spent our day, except I have to lie about how I spent mine since I can’t exactly tell him I’ve been plotting our wedding plans all day. Then, just as we’re about done with our meal, he says, “So, I wanted to ask you something.”

    Immediately, visions of an engagement ring and Will on his knee and declarations of “Oopa!” filling the restaurant flood my imagination. Will I react in a suitably teary-eyed, delirious-with-happiness way? These are the things I worry about.

    “We spend nearly every night together, and I love waking up to you more than anything. I was thinking maybe we could move in together.”

    I smile. It’s not a wedding proposal, but it’s not bad. “I would love that. I would love that a lot. Which one of us should sell our place do you think?”

    “Well, your place is bigger, so I think it would make sense for me to sell mine and move in with you. What do you think?”

    “I think that would be great. When do you think you’d want to move in?”

    “Well, as soon as you want me to, I guess. And then I’ll work on selling my place.”

    “You can start moving in tonight!”

    He chuckles. “Well, I do have to pack.”

    “Details, details.” I smile moonily at him. We stare at each other in silence for a moment