The Fiancé Dilemma

by Elena Armas

I pounded my fist on my fiancé’s door. Yup, that was what I was calling him in my head. Because for all practical purposes, he was. He just needed to be informed of that fact.

I’d just… proposed to Matthew. And for someone who had been engaged four times, I really sucked at it.

“Those are the best things to fall in love with,” I heard myself say. “The ones we find accidentally.”

“But sweetheart,” he said a lot louder. “Of course I would love you if you were a worm.” He winked. “I’d build you a tiny box and carry you in my pocket anywhere I’d go.”

“Do you still want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“Have what instead?” “My ring.”

I was probably ovulating. That had to be the explanation for why I couldn’t stop gaping at Matthew like I would at a celebrity doing one of those puppy interviews.

“It’s sweet of you to offer compensation for the hardship of touching you, kissing your cheek, or pretending I have the right to pull you on my lap just because I want to. All of which I agreed to do, by the way.”

“There’s a ring on your finger. I don’t care about the specifics, for all practical purposes, it means we’re a team. We handle shit together. I don’t care if you can do it on your own. You shouldn’t have to.”

“Maybe I would help any stranger. But it’s you I’m going this far for. It’s you. Josie.”

“Beautiful things shouldn’t be boxed. It eventually dims their light.”

“But no one ever bakes for me.” “I do.”

“It was his dream to get married in a place like that.” “His dream should have been getting married to you.”

“Like I want to throw you over my shoulder and run,” he said, voice low, just for me. He swiped at my bottom lip. “Like I want to drag my fiancée to that gazebo in the back and fuck the anxiety out of her.”

“If you don’t wipe that please, Matthew smile off your mouth, I swear I’m going to kiss it away myself, Josie.”

“I should have taken you to that fucking gazebo when I had my chance.”

“We’re a little stressed with the time crunch, but hey, it won’t be me who’s complaining about that. I am marrying the woman of my dreams sooner than I expected, after all.”

“So that’s what’s been waking me up at dawn,” he commented. My lips parted with a question. But his next words immediately shot that down. “Besides the idea of you, and that little sound you make, that is.”

“You weren’t kissing me,” Matthew repeated. “Not really. That wasn’t our first kiss. You’d know if it was.”

“If I asked you to meet me somewhere at midnight and bring a big pack of matches with you, what would you do?” Matthew’s answer was quick and serious. “I’d say we better dress in black. Ash stains are a motherfucker to remove.”

“The first time I heard about Josie was through a text.” I turned my head to look at him, finding his gaze on me. “It was from Adalyn, and it read: I think I’ve just met your soul mate.” Something in the middle of my chest bucked. Soul mate. Adalyn laughed from her seat. “I’d forgotten about that.” “I haven’t,” Matthew said, his eyes still on me. “Do you remember what I texted back, Ads?” There was a strange pause, and then Adalyn said in a soft, baffled voice, “You asked for a picture. Of your future wife.”

“I’d love to stay and witness how Adalyn hands Andrew his own ass, but I’d rather spend my rehearsal dinner in a more pleasurable way.” He threw the napkin that had been on his lap on the table. “And yes, that’s a nice way to say: I’m making my woman scream until she forgets her father thinks so highly of himself, he decided to make this night about him.”

“What if I can’t give you any fucking firsts, so I want to make sure I get a chance at being your last?”

“You once told me that perfection is subjective. Remember?” He didn’t nod or shake his head, but I continued anyway. “This moment, right here, right now, is perfect for me.” My lips fell, all that wrangle of emotion and tingles and anticipation came to a soft stall. “And that’s because you’re in it. That’s because it’s you. Only you. I don’t care about firsts when I have you.”

She’s my happy. The rest is only important when you need it and everyone should fucking know that. I only need her. Jobs are replaceable. Careers are fickle. Roots grow anywhere there’s ground. Commitment and love are shown with actions. And I plan on doing that every fucking day of my life as long as I have her.

And Josie had always been Technicolor in my head. Not white.

Mostly because that would explain why I was so good at looking at everyone else’s love affairs under a clinical lens. One needed to really know about a topic to be able to pick it apart. It was either that, or the fact I was incapable of taking shit seriously. Serious people didn’t believe in the things I did or go on a podcast with national reach and swear a total of seven times, then threaten a senator and walk off.

“They were great romantic plans. To reward you.” “You are my reward.”

“I also believe in compatibility. In falling in love. In two people finding each other because perhaps they were meant to, but in them also making it work when they do.”