I admit,
I was afraid
to love.
Not just love,
but to love her.
For she was a stunning
mystery. She carried things
deep inside her that no one
has yet to understand,
and I,
I was afraid to fall,
like the others.

She was the ocean
and I was just a boy
who loved the waves
but was completely
terrified to
swim.

- Christopher Poindexter

One week has passed since Aaron was offered the promotion and I thought my nerves would dissipate, but they haven't. I'm not nervous about him leaving or him staying; I'm terrified that I'm going to have to follow him for us to stay together. I shouldn't feel like I have to follow him, but I don't want to leave. I'm happy or at least content, and I'm not sure I want to sacrifice my life here for Aaron.

    Promptly at five, I march into Tina's office and announce, "Tina, I'm leaving on time today. It's Friday, I have a date with my boyfriend tonight, and I've already had to cancel on him twice for work this week. So I'm going home."

    I finish my speech and try to stand boldly in front of her. I put my hands on my hips in an assertion of dominance, but when she raises an eyebrow, my hands shrivel back to my sides. She reclines in her rolling chair, bites the cap of her pen, and finally waves me off with a sigh.

    "Have a good night."

As I turn around to scuttle away before she changes her mind, I pull my fist down and whisper, "Yes!" under my breath. Nisha, the secretary, smiles at me and flashes a discreet thumbs up. Success.

    I run back to my cubicle, gather my stuff, and sprint as fast as I can in business casual clothes to my car. As I make my escape, I expect Tina to call me back into her office, but she doesn't. When I make it to the car and slam the door closed, I cheer for myself. I was terrified that me putting my foot down would be the excuse Tina was looking for to fire me, but maybe she needs me more than I thought. Either that or she just really didn't care that I left on time today.

    As I pull out of the parking lot, I call Aaron.

    "Hey, babe."

    "You're never going to believe what just happened to me."

    "What?"

    "I told Tina I was leaving on time and she didn't stop me!"

When I say it out loud, I realize how insignificant my success sounds. Most people don't even need their boss's permission to leave at the normal time or they just leave without it. But not me, not pushover Rachel.

    "So you're on your way to dinner?" Aaron asks.

    "Yeah, just leaving now. I'll see in you in 20."

    "Okay, drive safe."

    I sing along to Ed Sheeran's newest album as I drive across town to Vasaggio's, the Italian place where we're eating dinner. Even though it's a Friday, weekends aren't especially exciting for me any more since they usually mean spending every waking moment with Emmalee. Still, her company is far superior to Tina's, so I have to count my blessings. Plus, I didn't take any work home with me tonight so I can actually focus on Aaron.

    Even though he's always understanding, I feel bad for how much I've neglected him this week. I know he wants to talk about whether or not he should take the promotion, but I've been putting off that conversation. I'm afraid to steer him one way or the other; I want him to go after what he wants, not make choices based on what I want. I don't even know what I want, and it's his life after all.

    I pull into a parking spot and straighten my slightly wrinkled purple blouse before entering the restaurant. The maitre d' greets me and I give him my name.

    "Miss Evans? To meet Mr. Webb?" he asks.

    "Yes, sir."

A twinkle comes into his eye when he winks at me. "Ah, come right this way. He's prepared something very special for you this evening."

    My curiosity grows as I follow the man through the normal seating area towards a few back rooms typically saved for private dinners and banquets. Aaron reserved a room for us? It's just like him to be so thoughtful after such a stressful week of work. Plus, we'll be able to talk about his job without prying eyes and loud conversations to interrupt us.

    The maitre d' opens the door to a private room and I'm shocked into complete stillness when I see Aaron. He's wearing a brown tweed suit, well-tailored with elbow patches, and a plaid tie, and he stands in front of a table that's elaborately furnished with china, real silver silverware, cloth napkins, and a bottle of sparkling cider, my favorite. A single candle sits at the center of the table and the dimmed lights make it shine all the brighter.

    My shock wears off and I rush towards Aaron, taking him by the hands. "You prepared all of this for us? Thank you!"

As the maitre d' bows and disappears, Aaron smiles at me, that warm, comforting, reassuring smile that always tells me everything's going to be okay.

    "All for you, Rachel," he says, reaching for my waist to draw me towards him and kissing me once and then twice.

    His kisses aren't the consuming passion that I used to know; they're gentle, genuine, constant. He is an island in the midst of chaos while Josh was the chaos of the waves himself. I chide myself for thinking about Josh at a time like this and give Aaron another wide smile as he pulls out my chair and I sit down.

    "Seriously, you did all of this? This is just...I don't know what to say."

    Aaron laughs. "Just enjoy it."

A few minutes later, we order our dinners, choosing entrees to share like we always do. I resist the urge to gorge myself on breadsticks for the sake of the fettuccine alfredo to come. The food arrives within ten minutes of our order, and I start to devour mine.

    Aaron, on the other hand, only nibbles at his, picking out the pieces of broccoli because he knows how much I hate the disgusting vegetable. His movements are fidgety and his eyes dart around too quickly.

    "Aaron, what's wrong?" I ask, pausing with my spoon suspended in mid air. "Is something the matter?"

    "I, uh, I want to talk to you about something," he says, his voice starting to stutter like it always does when he's nervous.

    I furrow my eyebrows, his anxiety rubbing off on me. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no, no, nothing's wrong," he says, rubbing his temples. "I'm just, ah, nervous."

    "Is this about your job?" I ask, conjecturing.   

    "Uh, sort of," he says with an embarrassed grin. Finally, he stands up, pushing his chair back with a squeak. "I'm going to stand. Can I stand? I'm going to stand."

    I stare at him, unable to recognize the Aaron I know. Though not overwhelmingly confident, Aaron has a quiet assurance that marks the way he speaks and acts. That assurance, however, has vanished. He shoves his hands into his pockets and rolls back on his heels, clearing his throat.

    "Rachel, I don't care that much about this promotion. I mean, yes, I'd like to take it. It's a great opportunity and I'd be a fool to let it pass me by. But it's made me think about the future and about you and me."

    My heart does a somersault as my hands knot in the cloth napkin in my lap. "What do you mean?" I ask when he pauses, my voice a whisper.   

    "Rachel, when I thought about moving to Massachusetts like we talked about, I couldn't imagine going there without you." I catch my breath, guilt washing over me for how different our thoughts were. "And I realized, I don't care if we stay or we go as long as we do it together."

Aaron comes to stand in front of me and I turn in my chair to face him, my eyes as wide as the saucers on our table. A sense of fear and dread fills me with every word he says. My heart screams no to every declaration he makes, in complete contrast to my head which tells me that this is right. We've been dating for almost two years, and even though our relationship has been a little stagnant, this is a step in the right direction. Even though I know this is right, it still fills me with a pervading fear.

"Rachel, I love you," he says with a shrug. "I've loved you almost since our first conversation when you kept trying to get me to stop talking to you by using your book to block out my face." A choked laugh comes out of my mouth but it sounds far away. "I've loved you ever since and I've tried to show you how I feel as much as possible."

I nod robotically. "You have. You've always shown me."

An unbidden picture of Josh comes to my mind. With Josh, I never knew what he was thinking or feeling. He was a blank slate, surprising and devastating me with every unexpected turn. With Aaron, there's certainty. I have to trust that.

"I want to move to Massachusetts, Rachel. I want to move there with you."
    His words hang between us, waiting for either Aaron to take them back or me to respond. My mouth opens, words lingering in my throat but unable to escape. Aaron keeps going before I can release them.   

"Don't say anything," he says. "Just listen." He draws in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. "Rachel, you know I'm not good with words. I'm terrible at telling you how I feel, how I really feel, but I need to."

Again, he inhales, and I press a hand to my stomach. I think I'm going to be sick.

"Rachel, I think you're incredible. You're kind and smart and funny and loving. You make me feel better as soon as you walk into the room, and your attitude towards life, always seeing the best in people even though you know we all kinda suck, it's so inspiring. I love the way you still care about people even though you've been hurt. You're brave."

He's wrong. He doesn't know that I've been using him, my family, Emmalee, this entire town as a safety blanket to protect me from the world. He doesn't know that I've kept certain parts of my heart closed off to him because I don't know how to open them again, because I'm afraid I lost the key. He doesn't know that I miss Josh still, even to this day, even though part of me loves Aaron.

For a moment, I feel like a horrible person. Have I been leading him on all this time, pretending to feel something I don't? But I've never lied to Aaron. He knows how I felt about Josh. I told him my fears about never feeling that way again, and maybe he's okay with that, but am I?

I have no more time to think as Aaron continues, "Rachel, I love you, and I don't want to move forward in my life without you beside me--in fact, I can't even imagine that. I want to move to Massachusetts with you, or stay here with you, or go on a cruise to Timbuktu, as long as it's with you."

Aaron draws in a deep breath, this time with a steadying hand over his heart, and fishes in his breast pocket for something. When he pulls out a ring box, I stop breathing. In one smooth movement, he kneels on one knee and opens the box, revealing a three-stone diamond ring on a silver band. It's as stunning as I am stunned.

"Rachel Evans," he says, offering me a boyish grin, "will you marry me?"

An awful, heart-wrenching moment of silence passes between us, and I'm faced with a dilemma between what I should do and what I have to do.

In a whisper, I murmur, "Aaron, I can't marry you."