The Night Before I Left Him

1: 1

The night before we were to file for our marriage license, I was working late on my boyfriend's laptop when I clicked into his AI app by accident.

I went to close it, but my eyes drifted to the chat box on the screen.

In a single day, Morris Henson had asked more than a dozen questions.

"Being with my girlfriend feels boring to me. Why is that?"

"I've already put off filing for the marriage license more than ten times. Are there any other good excuses to stall?"

"My girlfriend says all the wedding arrangements are booked. How do I get out of going without it seeming unreasonable? I've made plans with someone else during that time."

From the front door came the sound of the fingerprint lock clicking open.

I looked up. Morris's childhood friend, Savannah Gilbert, came running toward the sleeping man, her eyes red:

"Morris, my cramps are back! My stomach hurts so much."

His eyes still shut, he put his hand to Savannah's belly on instinct, the other arm loosely around her:

"It's okay. I'm here."

And this was just one of the countless scenes I'd lived through in seven years with Morris.

My eyes went back to the screen. The last question was posted half an hour ago:

"What do you do for a girl's cramps? Does she need to see a doctor? What's good to eat during this time? What can I do to make her feel better?"

My fingernails dug into my flesh.

Slowly, I typed a question onto the screen:

"The night before filing for a marriage license, I found out my boyfriend is unfaithful. What should I do?"

"Cut your losses in time."

What a coincidence.

That was exactly what I'd been thinking.

1

Morris rubbed his eyes and looked up at me, his gaze landing on the laptop in front of me:

"It's so late. Why are you still working?"

"Aren't you tired? I'll go warm up a glass of milk for you."

And as he said this.

His hand never stopped rubbing Savannah's belly.

"Lie still for a bit. I'll go downstairs."

Morris tucked the blanket completely around Savannah, then got up off the bed, his movements as practiced as if he'd repeated them a thousand times.

He walked into the kitchen.

Savannah curled up under the covers, holding Morris's phone as she called toward the kitchen:

"Phone password."

"Your birthday."

"Why would your phone password be my birthday?"

"Just set it without thinking."

"Aren't you afraid your Lottie Winfield will get upset?" Savannah teased with a laugh.

Morris came out of the kitchen carrying a cup and walked straight over to Savannah where she lay in bed:

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Lottie's not like you. She's sensible and knows how to keep her head. Why would she get upset over something this silly?"

"Come on, get up and drink this warm milk with brown sugar. I looked it up. Online they say this works best for cramps."

"Fine, fine, you're such a nag. Lottie, you really should rein in your Morris. He nags like an old man."

I looked up at Morris and said softly:

"Morris, where's my milk?"

He froze.

Clearly, he'd forgotten.

Morris scratched his head and explained to me, embarrassed:

"There was only one carton of milk left in the house. I used it to make the brown-sugar milk for Savannah. It's just milk. I'll buy you more tomorrow."

Same as always.

Seven years together.

A promise made one second was tossed out of his head the next, the moment anything about Savannah came up.

He promised to celebrate my birthday, but by the time I hurried over, I found my birthday celebration had turned into a party for Savannah's new job.

He promised to cook for me himself, but every dish on the table was loaded with chili peppers.

And I have a serious respiratory condition. I can't touch even a little spice.

He promised to propose to me on our seventh anniversary together, but the proposal I'd looked forward to for so long turned out to be for the thirtieth anniversary of him and Savannah knowing each other.

That day.

I got up early, did my makeup perfectly, put on my prettiest outfit, and headed to the location Morris had sent me, my heart racing.

But when I pushed open the door.

My boyfriend was down on one knee, a ring held up in his hand, and standing in front of him was Savannah, so moved she couldn't stop wiping away tears.

"Savannah, today marks thirty years since we first met. I'm so lucky I got to meet you. Let's keep walking through life together like this."

All around me were the cheers of Morris's buddies.

The flowers I'd bought for Morris slipped from my hands to the floor. I turned to leave on instinct, but Morris caught sight of me at once.

He slid the ring onto Savannah's finger first.

Then he came hurrying toward me, urgency all through his voice:

"Lottie, where are you going?"

"I'm waiting for you. Everyone's waiting for you."

Bang.

Before I could even get a word out, Morris's buddies set off the petal cannon.

When I looked up again.

Morris was already down on one knee in front of me, a ring held up in his hand, his eyes full of sincerity:

"Lottie, marry me. Will you?"

In the middle of the cheering.

I went blank for a moment, and my body reacted before anything else. By the time I came to, I'd already nodded.

As Morris got up and pulled me into his arms, Savannah walked over laughing and gave him a pat:

"I'll give you this much, your taste is actually pretty good."

"The rings you picked for me and Lottie are both gorgeous."

Savannah held out her hand in front of me, and my eyes fell on the ring on her ring finger.