He Said I Was Slow to Commit While He Was Slow to Tell Me About Her Chapter 05

He Said I Was Slow to Commit While He Was Slow to Tell Me About Her Chapter 05

By the time I got home, the sky was dark.

I had just opened the window when my mother texted.

[I think I just saw Garrett and his family having dinner at a hotel. There was a young woman with them. I couldn’t see her face clearly.]

I stared at the screen for a long moment before replying.

[That’s Stella.]

My mother answered almost immediately.

[Her? Then why didn’t they invite you? You should be there for something like that.]

I did not respond.

My parents did not know what it meant when a woman came back to town and immediately sat

down with a man’s parents.

That future used to involve me.

Now it did not matter.

I started packing.

His dress shirts hung beside my clothes in the closet.

For years, neither of us had ever cleared out the other’s side. Even after arguments, even during

days of silence, we both avoided the word breakup as if saying it would make something

irreversible.

Now that unspoken agreement was gone.

| My phone buzzed.

Weston had sent a message.

[Future Mrs. Carey, what’s your ring size?]

The new title caught me off guard.

I thought about it, then replied.

[No ring. Let’s keep it simple.]

His answer came quickly.

[Absolutely not. You’re getting everything you’re supposed to get. Don’t worry. I already made an

appointment with a jeweler for tomorrow. They’ll size you there.]

I stared at the message.

Weston Carey had never rushed anything in his life.

Back in college, he led our architecture design team. When everyone else panicked over a deadline

or a competition submission, Weston was the one who slowed the room down.

A professor could email him three times asking for updates, and he would still say, calmly, “Let’s finish it properly before we send it.”

He had pursued me once.

But after Garrett proposed sophomore year, Weston never brought it up again.

He sent me one birthday message every year, always on time, never crossing a line.

Six months ago, at a college reunion, someone brought up the fact that I had been engaged for more

than seven years.

Weston looked at me and said, half joking, “Avery, if Garrett still hasn’t married you, let me swoop

Deal?”
I assumed he had been drinking and forgot about it.

Now I had texted him one question.

[Still want to swoop in?]

His answer had been immediate.

[Name the date.]

I had taken him up on it.

The moment I zipped the suitcase closed, the front door lock clicked.