Chapter 14 - THE CHOICE HE DIDN'T MAKE FOR ME
Adrian moved to Chicago for six months.
Not with another woman.
Not to disappear.
To help federal monitors unwind an old Parker Development partnership.
We spoke once a week.
Then twice.
Sometimes not at all.
The distance changed us.
He built a life without me.
I built one without him.
That was exactly why, when he came back, we could finally see each other clearly.
He returned in October.
No announcement.
No dramatic entrance.
He called.
“I’m back.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Julian told me.”
“Traitor.”
“Family tradition.”
We met in Boston Common.
Fall leaves.
Cold air.
No flowers.
Thank God.
Adrian looked nervous.
I enjoyed that immensely.
“I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I bought an apartment.”
“That is aggressively ordinary.”
“I’m trying a new brand.”
I smiled.
Then he said:
“I’m not asking you to move in.”
“Good.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me.”
“Very good.”
“I’m asking if you want to come over for dinner Friday.”
I studied him.
“Are you cooking?”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
He laughed.
“Takeout.”
“Maybe.”
Friday became another Friday.
Then winter.
Then spring.
Slowly, I stopped imagining the closed casket every time he touched my hand.
Not completely.
Healing is not erasure.
But the memory lost power.
One evening, almost two years after his fake funeral, we visited Julian.
He had framed one of Dad’s old notes in his office:
TRUTH COSTS LESS THAN SECRETS. EVENTUALLY.
Underneath, Julian had added:
Our family tested this extensively.
I laughed.
Then Adrian asked me to walk with him.
We ended up outside the church where his fake funeral had been held.
I stopped.
“Seriously?”
“I know.”
“This is your romantic location?”
“Let me finish.”
He stood near the steps.
“I came here because this is where you lost me.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I lost you before this.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Good answer.
“This is where I let you believe I was gone.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t change that.”
“No.”
“I can’t ask you to forget it.”
“No.”
He breathed slowly.
“But I can tell you something.”
“What?”
“I don’t want the old future back.”
My eyes filled.
“Neither do I.”
“I want whatever future you choose now.”
He reached into his pocket.
I immediately pointed at him.
“Do not kneel.”
He stopped.
“Wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“Maybe.”
I laughed.
Then he held up a ring.
Not my old one.
New.
Simple.
No giant stone.
No Parker family jewelry.
“I am not asking because we almost married once.”
He looked terrified.
Good.
“I’m asking because I have spent two years learning how to be someone who can hear no and still respect the person saying it.”
My throat tightened.
“Meredith Cole, will you marry me?”
I looked at him for a long time.
Then:
“Not yet.”
His face fell for half a second.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
I smiled.
“But ask me again in six months.”
His eyes widened.
“That sounds promising.”
“It is.”
He laughed.
I kissed him.
First.
Because that mattered.
May you like
Six months later, he asked again.
This time, I said yes.
