PlotlumeOver the Labor Day weekend in the third year of our long-distance relationship, I traveled nearly 700 miles to surprise my boyfriend and see what he was up to.
I had barely let myself in with the spare key when a charge notification appeared on my phone from our linked payment account.
$13,800. The latest matching couple's rings from a luxury brand.
I thought the impossible had finally happened: he knew I was coming and had planned a surprise proposal.
Hearing footsteps outside, I settled sideways into the bedroom beanbag and pretended to sleep.
I decided that when he went down on one knee with the ring, I would say yes.
The front door opened. Two sets of footsteps stopped in the living room.
Then a young woman complained,
"Why did you buy them through your long-distance girlfriend's linked account? What if she sees?"
My boyfriend gave a scornful laugh.
"What's there to worry about? Tomorrow, when she wakes up and checks the charges, I'll say my card details were stolen."
"She's the easiest person to fool."
Curled up in the bedroom, I felt every flutter of excitement from the journey drain away.
At that moment, I thought I finally understood.
The real reason he had spent more than a year saying he was too busy with work to see me.
1
"Why aren't the lights on?" Nathan's voice came from the living room.
"Nathan, that bag on the sofa looks like a woman's," a female voice followed.
The footsteps stopped.
Then the bedroom door opened.
Hallway light fell diagonally across the beanbag.
I kept my eyes shut, then slowly opened them as though his footsteps had woken me.
Nathan Kingsley stood in the doorway. For a moment, his body went rigid.
The girl behind him peered around his shoulder, looked me over, then turned to his profile.
"You're back, Nathan." I sat up, my voice quiet.
He quickly rearranged his expression and came in to switch on the ceiling light.
"What brings you here all of a sudden? You didn't even tell me." Panic threaded his voice.
"I wanted to surprise you." I looked at him.
"Scare me, more like." He loosened his tie, his usual warmth returning. "I thought someone had broken in."
"And this is...?" I looked toward the girl in the doorway.
Brianna wore an oversized white shirt, its hem barely covering her thighs, and Nathan's slippers.
"I'm Brianna Quincy, Nathan's assistant," she said brightly before he could answer.
"We had a business dinner tonight. Brianna drank a few rounds for me and had too much. I brought her back to sober up." His explanation was seamless.
"I see." I nodded without exposing the lie.
Brianna stepped forward and put her shopping bag on the dressing table.
"Hannah, please don't misunderstand. Nathan thought it wasn't safe for a girl to take a cab alone so late."
As she spoke, she lifted a hand to brush back her hair.
The new couple's ring on her ring finger flashed painfully under the light.
I looked at it, bitterness rising in my chest.
"I haven't misunderstood." I looked away, my voice calm.
Nathan came over and ruffled my hair.
"You must be tired after such a long flight. Rest for a bit. I'll make Brianna some hangover soup and then take her home."
"All right," I answered.
He left the bedroom, Brianna following.
The door remained slightly ajar.
Deliberately lowered voices reached me from the living room.
"Nathan, do you think she knows?"
"No. Don't overthink it." His voice was gentle.
"But the ring..." Brianna hesitated.
"Shh." He cut her off. "I'll handle it tomorrow. Be good."
I sat in the beanbag, listening to pots and bowls clatter in the kitchen.
Three years ago, when Nathan was starting his business, he had been hospitalized with stomach bleeding.
I cooked chicken soup and cared for him day and night.
He held my hand and promised that from then on, he would do all the cooking. He would never let me near the smoke and grease again.
Yet for more than a year, he had claimed to be so busy that he didn't even have time to order takeout.
His time, it turned out, had all gone to another woman.
Half an hour later, he returned to the bedroom with his car keys.
"Hannah, I'll take her home. Go to sleep. Don't wait up."
He picked up his jacket from the sofa. "I'll be back soon. Tomorrow I'll take you for your favorite seafood."
"All right. Drive carefully," I said softly.