I nibble on my bottom lip as I try to figure it out. Five weeks, that’s so quick. Like lightning-fast quick, and sure, of course I want to marry Brian, I love him, but five weeks? I’m barely able to wrap my head around the fact I’m getting married.
I tug on the ring and pull it off my finger. I think it’s best that I don’t go rushing into the kitchen with the ring but rather ease the idea into conversation.
I set my ring on the dresser, then walk back into the kitchen, where Breaker has set up two place settings on the table with drinks and lots of napkins. We’re going to need them.
The tacos Breaker gets are from a local food truck around the corner. They make tacos de birria, and they are so good that I would probably get them every night if I didn’t have self-control. But because they come with a dipping sauce that the meat was cooked in, we need tons of napkins because things get messy.
“Ugh, they smell so good.”
“Yeah, they do, so hurry your ass on over here so I can dig in.”
I take a seat across from him. “You could have started without me.”
“You know I never do. If anything, I’m a gentleman and will always wait.”
“You didn’t wait two months ago when I brought over cheesecake.”
“Ah, cheesecake.”
“Very true. All sweets are your downfall.” I pick up a taco, and he does too, and like every other time we’ve purchased these tacos, we “clink” them as a toast to the meal and then dip them in the sauce. I take a very large bite and chew.
After a few seconds, he asks, “So how was lunch?”
I swallow and answer, “Oh, you know, same old, same old.”
He pauses his taco halfway to his mouth, sauce dripping from the crispy, grilled tortilla. “Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?”
“What? Hiding? Ha! No, I don’t hide things.” I push up my purple-rimmed glasses and chuckle. “Why would I hide something from you? That seems pointless. I tell you everything.”
“You’re babbling.”
“Uh, no, I’m not. I’m defending myself. Because why would I hide something from you?”
He sets his taco down and straightens up. “You’re definitely hiding something.”
“I don’t like your accusatory glare.”
“And I don’t like that you’re prolonging the inevitable of actually telling me what’s going on.” He nods at me. “Go ahead, spill.”
Ugh, he knows me too well. There’s no point, he will go all night like this, so I set my taco down and look him in the eyes.
“Something has developed in my life.”
“Oh-kay,” he drags out.
“Something that will change things a bit.”
His brow creases. “You are moving to New York, aren’t you?”
“Noooooo! I’m not moving, I’m just . . . changing my relationship status.”
His brow rises. “You’re breaking up with Brian? Thank—”
“No, he proposed, and we’re getting married.”
Breaker’s mouth falls open right before he says, “Married?”
“In five weeks.” I wince.
“Five weeks?” he asks. “Like in . . . five weeks?”
“Yes.”
He pushes back, his expression completely shocked. Yeah, I get it. I’m surprised too.
“I know it’s coming on quick, but The Beave wants us to get married at the club, and there’s an opening, and his family always gets married in the summer, and next year won’t work because his niece will be too tall. So yeah, five weeks.”
“Wow.” He rubs a napkin over his face and tosses it on the table. “That’s . . . a lot of information. Did he just propose today?” His eyes fall to my hand. “Where’s the ring? He got you a ring, right?”
“Yeah, it’s in my bedroom.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to shock you, and he proposed a week ago. I wanted to tell you in person. Are you mad?” I wince again, my heart beating a mile a minute.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because, you know, it happened a week ago, and I haven’t told you, and I know that Brian isn’t really your favorite person.”
“But he’s your favorite person, so, therefore, I like him,” Breaker says, but the lie falls flat. There’s just about zero excitement in the inflection of his voice. He swallows, almost as if he’s swallowing pain, and says, “Show me the ring.”