He Said I Was Slow to Commit While He Was Slow to Tell Me About Her Chapter 01

He Said I Was Slow to Commit While He Was Slow to Tell Me About Her Chapter 01

Garrett Hollis had been impatient from the day he was born.

At eight, he was already throwing fits and telling both our families that I was going to marry him someday.

He stood in the middle of my parents’ living room, copying the serious tone of the adults around him, and announced, “Nobody else gets her. Avery’s marrying me when we grow up.”

At sixteen, he grabbed my arm and snapped, “You’re not allowed to walk that close to other guys.”

Sophomore year of college, he dropped to one knee in the middle of the quad and proposed in front of half the campus.

“It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Everyone thought the two kids who had grown up together would get their happy ending.

Instead, I wore his engagement ring for eight years and never saw a wedding.

Then both families pushed for a date again.

And Garrett finally got the phone call he’d been waiting four years for.

He did not hide his smile fast enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lane, Avery’s always been slow to make big decisions. This isn’t on me. If you want a wedding, you should probably convince her first.”

Then he made an excuse and left.

When everyone turned their attention back to me, I was staring at a single text someone had just sent.

[Name the date.]

I looked up.

“Stop pushing. I’ll do it. I’m getting married.”

…

The living room went silent for two full seconds.

My mother reacted first. Her eyes filled, and she grabbed both my hands.

“Oh, sweetheart. Finally.”

Garrett’s mother looked even more excited. She immediately started talking about checking the wedding planner’s calendar and finding out which weekends the venue still had open.

Our fathers exchanged relieved looks, as if someone had finally lifted a weight off both their shoulders.

I looked down at the engagement ring on my finger.

Eight years on the same hand.

Garrett had put it there sophomore year. He said he wanted the whole campus to know Avery Lane was the woman he had chosen.

His hand shook when he slid it on. Mine did too. It took him several tries to get it over my knuckle.

I never took it off after that.

I turned the ring around my finger and said nothing else.

Garrett came home late that night.

I was on the couch working on a set of blueprints when he walked in with his jacket over one arm and the faint smell of whiskey on him.

“Still up?”

“Waiting for you.”

He sat at the far end of the couch and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“About today…” He stopped, then looked at me. “You really said yes?”

“Mm-hm.”

He was quiet for a moment, then gave a short laugh.

“I figured you’d drag your feet. You’ve always been like that. Never in a hurry about anything.”

“Are you in a hurry?”

Garrett did not answer.

He stood and went to pour himself a glass of water.

He had been avoiding that question for four years.

Four years ago, when he got a goodbye call from Stella Marsh, his entire body had gone rigid.

After that, he never brought up marrying me again.

Both families went from asking twice a year to asking every couple of months. Every time, Garrett smiled and pushed the conversation onto me.

“Avery takes time to warm up.”

“We’re not in a rush.”

“Give her a little more time.”

What I was waiting for and what he was waiting for, we both knew.

Neither of us said it.

We simply ran out the clock for four years.

Today, the call finally came again.

She was coming back.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

He loosened his tie and headed for the bathroom.

I closed my sketchbook and got up.

As I passed the coffee table, his phone lit up.

A message appeared on the lock screen.

[Meeting your parents tomorrow. I’m so nervous I can’t sleep.]

My steps slowed for half a second.

It was not the first message I had seen from the contact saved as “Star.”

I had simply been waiting for Garrett to tell me about her himself.

More than six months of waiting, and he had never said a word.

Now she was about to meet his parents.

I looked away and went into the bedroom.

A small ceramic mug sat on the nightstand. A crooked little cat was painted on the side.

I had made it in elementary school art class and brought it home like treasure. Garrett happened to be over that afternoon.

My father joked that Garrett had already appointed himself the family’s future son-in-law, so I shoved the mug into his hands.

“If you give it to me, it’s mine,” he said.

“Then you have to keep it forever. You’re never allowed to throw it away.”

And he had kept it all these years.

I had just picked it up when his phone rang in the living room.

Garrett answered in a low voice, with a tenderness I had not heard from him in a very long time.

“You’re meeting my parents, not the Supreme Court. Stop panicking. Get some sleep. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

My hand went still.

I dropped the mug into the trash, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers over me.

Garrett, you’ve been in a rush your whole life.

The only thing you’ve ever been patient about is leaving me.