He stalled, his brow knotting. "Don't be unreasonable. I've been traveling nonstop for work. Didn't I hand all the wedding arrangements over to you?"
Sensing the mood turn, our coworkers slipped away.
Only Bernice stayed in her seat, lashes lowered.
"Lottie, don't blame Roderick. It's my fault, I'm too useless. He had to look after me the whole trip, so he never got the chance to think about the wedding."
We'd made a promise: if we were still together after the seven-year itch, we'd get married.
At the candlelit dinner for our seventh anniversary, I brought that promise up.
He'd shown up forty minutes late, and he kept his head down over his phone.
He sent Bernice a voice message first. "It's fine if you can't format the document. I'll teach you at the office tomorrow."
Only then did he lift his head to look at me. "I've got a trip coming up soon, so I'm leaving the wedding to you."
"A wedding is something two people do together." I set down my knife and fork, keeping my voice as even as I could. "Let me come with you. Some of the details we really should discuss together."
His refusal was flat.
"I'm going there to work. I don't want the distraction."
And yet, from Bernice's posts online, I pieced together all the things he was willing to be distracted by.
She forgot the combination to her suitcase, and he spent three hours getting it open for her.
She was hosting a meeting with a partner company but couldn't write her hosting script, so he stayed up all night finishing it, even marking where to soften and where to press.
She wanted a local specialty and couldn't find the shop, so he crossed three streets under the noon sun to bring it back.
While I'd sent him two possible wedding dates and asked him to pick.
He didn't so much as read them properly. He just replied: "Fine."
And I thought about the line she posted after the trip ended: 【Came home with a pile of embarrassing stories and a precious stretch of being taken care of.】
Then I thought about myself, working all day and staying up all night on the wedding, my immune system dropping and my hives flaring up again and again.
All those nights I tossed and turned, itching, only to get a single "Tough it out" from him.
I finally understood. It wasn't that he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted. It was that he wouldn't let himself be distracted for me.
I set down my wine glass and spoke quietly. "In seven days, I'll be walking into a new life."
The plane ticket to Los Angeles was already booked.
Seven days from now.
Roderick nodded, his brow easing slightly. "Seven days is enough for me to wrap up the project."
There was a rare ease in his voice. "You've had it rough lately. After the wedding, I'll get you a vacation."
"No need." I stood up. "You two keep eating. I'm tired. I'm heading home."
By the time I stepped out of the restaurant, it was already evening.
From the intersection not far off drifted a warm, burnt-sweet smell. Roasted chestnuts, my favorite.
I still remembered late autumn of my junior year, standing under the classroom building to wait out the rain, mentioning offhand to my roommate that I was craving roasted chestnuts.
"That place by the school gate. They're best right out of the pan. Too bad I don't feel like going out of my way in the rain."
My roommate said maybe another day, but Roderick, standing behind us, had taken it to heart.
At dinner in the dining hall, he set a brown paper bag down in front of me. It was still hot to the touch.
The hem of his pants was a little wet, but his voice was steady. "Passed by. Grabbed them on the way."
That kind of care hadn't shown up in a long time.
Now, if I asked him to bring back a local specialty from a trip, all he'd say was: "You can buy it online."
I looked away and caught a cab home.
I opened my laptop and wrote a resignation letter.
After I graduated, I gave up Los Angeles, the place I'd always wanted to go, and followed Roderick to New York to build a company.
From him without a cent to his name, all the way to the Gilbert Group going public.
From an office for two people to owning an entire building.
From not knowing how to design a thing to holding the position of Design Director.
Half the blood and sweat in the Gilbert Group is mine. I'd never once imagined there would come a day I would leave.
