Chapter 1After Eight Years, I Said Yes to Another

Tedd was an absolute master at playing the perfect boyfriend. He remembered every anniversary, never hid me on social media, and introduced me to everyone as his future wife.

Yet when it came to actually marrying me, he invented endless excuses to stall. His startup lacked stability, his mother’s health was failing, our dream venue was booked, or the stars were not aligned.

I waited eight years, from twenty-four to thirty-two.

At my best friend’s wedding reception, the DJ called out the couple who had been together the longest. The room erupted as everyone pushed us onto the dance floor.

A groomsman handed Tedd the microphone. "Come on man, make her a real promise right here in front of everyone!"

Tedd gazed at me, his eyes impossibly soft. "I promise I will spend the rest of my life taking care of her."

It was the same line again. Taking care of me. Providing for me. Never doing me wrong. He had repackaged that promise for eight years, expertly dodging the word marriage.

Later, still laughing with his fraternity brothers, Tedd boasted, "Oh, I spoil the missus rotten. She has me wrapped around her finger."

I calmly picked up a glass of champagne, walked onto the stage, and tapped the microphone.

"Just a quick heads up. I am getting married next month on the sixteenth. Every single one of you is invited, and I fully expect a gift."

Tedd froze, his glass hovering in midair. Red wine sloshed over the rim, soaking his crisp white dress shirt.

From the crowd, someone shouted, asking who the lucky groom was.

I stared directly into Tedd’s eyes, enunciating every syllable.

"A man who only needed three days to ask me to be his wife."

* * *

"Jenna, are you insane?"

Tedd's expensive leather shoes slammed against the concrete of the underground parking garage. The sharp echoes reached my ears before he did.

I didn't turn around. I pressed the button on my key fob twice. The taillights of my SUV flashed in the dim light.

He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight my bones ached.

"My investors are upstairs right now. Do you have any idea what kind of stunt you just pulled in front of them?"

I looked down at his hand. His nails were perfectly manicured. The custom silver cufflinks at his wrists were the ones I bought him for his birthday last year. The front of his tailored shirt was stained with a massive, dark map of spilled wine.

The very first thing out of his mouth after chasing me down wasn't to ask why I did it. It was to remind me his business partners were upstairs.

"I know." I slowly lifted my head. "I was just making sure everyone saved the date for my wedding."

"Who exactly are you marrying?"

He let go of my wrist, taking a half step back. His voice carried this arrogant, absolute certainty, like he genuinely believed the entire concept was physically impossible.

I didn't answer him.

"Some guy you met three days ago? Jenna, listen to yourself." He let out a cold, sharp laugh. I knew that exact laugh. It was the condescending smirk he always used to shut down our arguments whenever I brought up a ring.

"Did Brian put you up to this?"

"This has absolutely nothing to do with Brian."

"She just eloped, and now she is dragging you down with her. Look at couples who rush into marriage. How many of them actually survive?" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, tilting his chin up. His tone shifted into that familiar, patronizing lecture mode. "You need to calm down."

I pulled the car door open.

He slammed his hand flat against the door, leaning in close. His voice suddenly dropped into that velvety, gentle tone I had listened to for eight long years.

"What do you really want? Just tell me."

"Take a wild guess."

"You want to get married. Fine." He let out a heavy sigh, acting as if he was making the ultimate, agonizing sacrifice. "Once we close this Series B funding round, we will do it. By the end of the year at the latest. You have already waited eight years. A few more months will not kill you."

Eight years.

He actually said it out loud. His tone was totally flat, like he was reading the terms and conditions of a corporate lease.

"Tedd. The first time you told me not to rush, I had just celebrated my twenty fifth birthday."

I reached up to the sun visor, pulled out the prepaid gas card clipped there, and held it out to him.

"This is your card."

He didn't take it.

"The second time, you said we had to wait because your mom was sick. The third time, you said the country club did not have our dates available. I believed every single word. Then you claimed our astrological signs were clashing so we had to wait for the new year. I secretly booked a session with a psychic who read our charts. She said it was the perfect time to tie the knot. I just never told you."

"What exactly is your point?"

"Do you want to know the funniest part of all this?" I shoved the plastic gas card directly into the wine soaked breast pocket of his shirt. "Every single time you rejected me, you bought me a designer bag. Or booked a surprise trip to Aspen. You called that compensation."

"When have I ever rejected you?" His voice spiked, defensive and sharp. "I said the timing was not right."

"Eight years of bad timing."

"Jenna!" His voice bounced off the concrete pillars, echoing loudly. "Do you honestly think backing me into a corner like this is going to work? I am in the most critical stage of my funding round, and you are throwing a tantrum just because you are desperate for a ring?"

Desperate.

The word hung in the damp air of the garage, sharp and incredibly cruel.

He had never used a word that ugly before. In the past, he would just wrap his arms around me, kiss my forehead, and whisper 'Baby, do not rush, I am not going anywhere.' And I would slowly unclench my fists, telling myself to just hold on a little longer.

But for some reason, hearing him call me desperate actually made me let out a breath of relief.

"You are absolutely right." I slid into the driver's seat and buckled my seatbelt. "I am completely desperate to get married. That is exactly why I am marrying him."

The heavy car door slammed shut, cutting off the chill of the garage.

He slapped the glass window twice, his knuckles rapping hard against the tint. His voice was muffled from the outside.

"Cool off for a couple of days. Once you are thinking straight, we will sit down and talk."

I shifted into reverse. The SUV backed out smoothly.

In the rearview mirror, Tedd stood dead center in the empty parking spot. His hands were planted firmly on his hips, his chin tilted up.

It was the exact same posture he took after every single fight we ever had. He wasn't angry. He was just waiting. Waiting for me to turn the car around. Waiting for my inevitable apology text, saying I was sorry for making a scene.

As I drove up the ramp into the city lights, my phone buzzed in the cup holder.

"Text me when you are ready to be reasonable."

I didn't even open it.