When I caught the flu, she brought homemade soup.
I had no reason to think she disliked me.
Cara wasn’t an unpleasant woman.
But mention marriage, and her fingers closed around her glass.
At a family barbecue, Paxton’s cousin announced her engagement.
Everyone congratulated her.
I jokingly said, “Maybe we’ll be next.”
Everyone congratulated her.
Cara immediately reached for her drink.
“Why rush? You two are still so young.”
“We’re not teenagers,” I said.
“Exactly. Plenty of time.”
“We’re not teenagers.”
Later, I asked Paxton whether his mother had something against us getting married.
“Of course not, Gio.”
“She acted like I’d announced a disaster.”
“That’s just Mom.”
He kissed my forehead.
I let it go.
“She acted like I’d announced a disaster.”
***
Three years before my birthday dinner, Cara separated from Paxton’s father.
He moved into an apartment across town, while she stayed in their family home.
The separation was difficult for her.
Paxton started helping with repairs, appointments, and bills.
The separation was difficult for her.
Sometimes I went with him.
I never resented those visits.
What bothered me was how often our own plans seemed to move around them.
Once, we canceled a weekend away because Cara wanted help sorting through boxes in the attic.
I never resented those visits.
Another time, Paxton left our anniversary dinner early after she called about a dripping faucet.
When I suggested calling a plumber, he frowned.
“Mom gets anxious about strangers coming into the house.”
I stopped arguing.
Paxton left our anniversary dinner early after she called.
I thought I was being understanding.
I didn’t know there was a reason he expected me to keep waiting.
***
My thirty-second birthday fell on a Saturday.
Paxton arranged dinner at Cara’s house and invited my parents, my sister, and several relatives from his side of the family.
He expected me to keep waiting.
“You’ve been doing so much lately,” he told me. “Let me organize something for once.”
I was delighted.
After dessert, Paxton stood.
“Giovanna, come here.”
I laughed.
“What are you doing?”
“Just come here.”
I was delighted.
He took my hand.
Then he dropped to one knee.
For a second, I forgot everyone else was watching.
He opened a velvet box.
Inside was a ring with an oval stone.
“Will you marry me?”
He dropped to one knee.
I started crying before he finished.
“Yes!”
My mother squealed.
My sister clapped.
Paxton stood and kissed me. I looked down at the ring, laughing through my tears, while my mother reached for her phone to take a picture.
I started crying before he finished.
Then Cara slammed her glass onto the table.
“If you marry her, don’t expect me to keep my promise!”
The room went silent.
I turned toward her.
“What promise?”
Paxton froze.
“What promise?”
Cara looked straight at him.
“You tell her, or I will.”
“Gio,” Paxton began, “there’s something I should’ve explained.”
Cara pushed back her chair.
“Tell her why you kept asking me for more time.”
“There’s something I should’ve explained.”
I pulled my hand away.
“You asked your mother for more time?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
He looked toward the dining room window.
“You asked your mother for more time?”
Cara answered for him.
“Three years ago, I promised Paxton I’d sell this house and move somewhere smaller. I told him that if he gave me time to get settled, I’d stop depending on him for every little thing.”
“And?” I whispered.
Cara answered for him.
“He promised he wouldn’t make wedding plans until I’d moved. And I promised I’d start handling things myself once I had.”
I looked at Paxton.
“You agreed to put our marriage on hold?”
He stared at the dining room window.
“Paxton?”
“You agreed to put our marriage on hold?”
He nodded.
I turned the ring once around my finger.
Three years.
Three years of him saying the timing wasn’t right.
Three years of me wondering whether he was uncertain about us.
Three years of him saying the timing wasn’t right.
All that time, he’d been waiting for his mother to decide she was ready.
***
Cara folded her arms.
“I never said he couldn’t marry you.”
“Then why did you shout that you wouldn’t keep your promise?”
He’d been waiting for his mother to decide she was ready.
“Because he promised he’d wait. If he breaks his side of our agreement, I’m not going to keep mine.”
“Nobody asked you to move tonight.”
She frowned.
“You don’t understand what it’s like to need someone.”
“He promised he’d wait.”
I looked at Paxton.
“I understand what it’s like to trust someone who hasn’t told me the whole truth.”
He reached for my hand.
“Gio, please. Let me explain.”
“Not here.”
“I understand what it’s like to trust someone who hasn’t told me the whole truth.”
My mother stood.
“Would you like me to drive you home?”
I nodded.
Paxton followed me into the hallway.
“Can we talk first?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Can we talk first?”
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, Gio.”
I looked at him.
“How did you mean for me to find out?”
He had no answer.
I thanked Cara for dinner.
He had no answer.
It was a ridiculous thing to say after what had happened, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
Then I left with my mother.
***
At home, Murphy greeted me like I’d been gone for weeks.
I sat on the couch while he rested his head on my knee.
It was a ridiculous thing to say.
My phone buzzed.
Paxton.
I’m sorry, Gio. Please let me explain.
I didn’t answer.
I removed the ring and placed it on the coffee table.
I didn’t answer.
For seven years, I’d believed Paxton and I were building a future together.
Now I wondered how many decisions about that future had been made without me.
***
Paxton came home the following morning.
I’d believed Paxton and I were building a future together.
His shirt was wrinkled, and shadows sat beneath his eyes.
“Can we talk?”
I moved Murphy off the couch.
“Sit down.”
He sat beside me.
“Can we talk?”
“Mom was having a difficult time after the separation. She was overwhelmed by the house. She talked about moving into a smaller apartment near her friends.”
“And?”
“She said if I gave her until spring, she’d get organized.”
“Mom was having a difficult time after the separation.”
“That was three years ago.”
“I know.”
I looked at him.
“You agreed not to marry me until then?”
“I thought it would be easier if she wasn’t depending on me so much.”
“That was three years ago.”
I folded my arms.
“Paxton, I never asked you to stop helping your mother.”
He looked at me.
“You don’t have to apologize for helping her. You have to explain why you thought I wasn’t allowed to know.”
“You don’t have to apologize for helping her.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“I didn’t want you to feel like you were waiting because of her.”
“But I was.”
He lowered his head.
I asked what helping Cara actually involved.
“But I was.”
He told me about the repairs, appointments, recurring bills, and occasional money he gave her from his personal account.
We kept separate accounts for personal expenses and contributed to a shared household account.
I knew he helped his mother financially.
We kept separate accounts for personal expenses.
I hadn’t known how often he changed his plans because she was uncomfortable doing something alone.
“Did you ever tell her you couldn’t keep waiting?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“No.”
“Then what exactly were you waiting for?”
She was uncomfortable doing something alone.
“I thought she’d eventually feel ready.”
“And when she didn’t?”
“I thought maybe another few months.”
I picked up the ring.
“Three years, Paxton.”
“I thought she’d eventually feel ready.”
He nodded.
“Three years.”
I looked at him carefully.
“Did your mother ever actually forbid you to propose?”
“No.”
“Did she threaten to cut you off?”
“Did your mother ever actually forbid you to propose?”
“Not until last night.”
I set the ring between us.
“So you could have asked me at any time.”
He looked up.
“Yes.”
I set the ring between us.
That answer landed harder than anything Cara had shouted.
I had spent years believing our wedding was waiting for the right moment.
He’d been avoiding a conversation.
Cara had shouted.
***
Paxton reached for my hand.
“I love you, Gio.”
“I love you too.”
“Then please don’t let this ruin everything.”
“I love you too.”
I looked at him.
“I’m not ruining anything. I’m asking why you made decisions about our future without me.”
He sat back.
“I thought I was keeping everyone happy.”
“Was I happy?”
“I’m not ruining anything.”
He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve and said nothing.
I picked up the ring.
“I meant yes last night. But I’m not planning a wedding while you’re still making promises about our lives without talking to me.”
“I meant yes last night.”
“Are you giving it back?”
“No.” I placed it beside him. “I’m asking you to understand why I’m not wearing it.”
***
That afternoon, Paxton went to see Cara.
I took Murphy for a long walk.
“Are you giving it back?”
I sat on the couch and looked through photographs on my phone.
Our first vacation.
Murphy as a puppy.
Paxton asleep beside a half-eaten pizza.
I looked through photographs on my phone.
None of those memories was false.
That made everything harder.
***
Paxton returned before dinner.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“She was angry.”
None of those memories was false.
I kept chopping carrots.
“About what?”
“She said I’d promised to wait until she was settled.”
“And?”
“I told her I shouldn’t have made that promise.”
“She said I’d promised to wait until she was settled.”
I set down the knife.
He leaned against the counter.
“I told her she doesn’t have to move because I’m getting married. But I don’t have to wait until she moves.”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t have to wait until she moves.”
“That I’d stop visiting.”
I looked at him.
“Why would she think that?”
He hesitated.
“She asked what reason I’d have to come over if nothing needed fixing.”
“That I’d stop visiting.”
That surprised me.
“She really said that?”
He nodded.
“I told her I wanted to visit because she’s my mother. Not because something’s broken.”
That surprised me.
I rinsed the carrots.
“Did she believe you?”
“I don’t know.”
He pulled his keys from his pocket.
“I also told her I’d call before coming over instead of letting myself in.”
“I don’t know.”
I nodded.
“That’s a start.”
***
Two days later, Cara called.
I let it ring.
Then I called her back.
“Giovanna,” she said, “I owe you an apology.”
“That’s a start.”
I sat at the kitchen table.
“I’m listening.”
“I was afraid Paxton would stop coming around once he married.”
“You could have told him. Instead, you kept asking him to wait.”
She was silent.
“You kept asking him to wait.”
Then she said, “I shouldn’t have said anything at your birthday dinner.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry.”
I believed she meant it.
But I wasn’t ready to pretend nothing had happened.
I believed she meant it.
“Thank you for apologizing, Cara.”
She cleared her throat.
“Do you think Paxton will still come for Sunday dinner?”
“That’s something you should ask him.”
“Thank you for apologizing, Cara.”
***
That weekend, Paxton called Cara before visiting.
When he returned, he smelled faintly of coffee.
“We went to the botanical garden,” he said.
“Really?”
“We went to the botanical garden.”
“She used to take me there when I was little.” He smiled. “She remembered the names of practically every flower.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yeah. She asked three times whether I needed to leave.”
“What did you say?”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“That I’d tell her when I did.”
Then he sat across from me.
“There’s something else.”
He opened his laptop.
“There’s something else.”
On the screen was a list of his regular contributions toward Cara’s bills, alongside our shared expenses.
“I should’ve shown you this before.”
We spent an hour going through it.
Some amounts surprised me.
Others didn’t.
“I should’ve shown you this before.”
But when I asked a question, Paxton answered it.
We disagreed about how much help he could reasonably offer.
We discussed it anyway.
Halfway through, his phone rang.
“Mom,” he said, checking the screen.
We discussed it anyway.
I waited.
He silenced it.
“I’ll call her after we’re finished.”
It was a small thing.
I noticed.
It was a small thing.
***
That night, I found the ring on the coffee table.
Paxton was washing dishes.
I picked it up.
The stone caught the kitchen light.
He turned off the faucet.
“Gio?”
I found the ring on the coffee table.
I slipped it onto my finger.
He smiled.
“Does that mean we’re okay?”
“It means I still want to marry you.”
He stepped closer.
“And?”
“It means I still want to marry you.”
“And I need us to keep talking like this.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
***
Three weeks later, we were sitting at the kitchen table with a wedding guest list.
Murphy was asleep beneath my chair.
Paxton’s phone buzzed.
“I need us to keep talking like this.”
He glanced at it.
“It’s Mom.”
He turned the screen toward me.
Cara had sent a photograph of a small wooden table beside her kitchen window.
Finally found a place for it. No help needed.
“It’s Mom.”
“She moved that herself?” I asked.
“Apparently.”
He smiled and typed a reply.
Then he set the phone down.
“Where were we?”
“She moved that herself?”
I looked at the list.
“Your cousin. The one who got engaged at the barbecue.”
“Right. We should invite her.”
“Even though your mother told us we were too young to get married?”
Paxton laughed.
“Especially because of that.”
“Your mother told us we were too young to get married.”
I picked up my pen.
He leaned over the list.
“How do you spell her fiancé’s last name?”
I told him, and he wrote it down without reaching for his phone.
Then we moved on to the next name.
“How do you spell her fiancé’s last name?”
