“You? Come off as cocky? Never.” Kenzie smiles.
The bit of humor in her tone relaxes me further and I press on. “Audrey was the first girl I ever loved, and I fell hard. Things between us were easy. We didn’t really ever disagree on anything, and for the most part, we were completely compatible. So… in December of our final year at university, I decided to propose to her. I thought it was the perfect time of year for such an event.”
Kenzie’s mouth falls open, but she recovers quickly, picking up her pint and taking a sip.
“It was extravagant. I was so excited that I wanted everyone in our lives there to bear witness to our joyous event. And I mean everyone—my parents, some of the family members I’m closest with, all our friends, her parents. I got everyone together under the guise of it being a graduation dinner for us. Reserved a spot at the poshest restaurant in London, asked my mother if I could have my grandmother’s ring to propose with, and got ready for the big day.”
As though she can sense this is the part of the story where things take a turn, she takes my hand that rests beside the glass.
“My plan was to take her onto the dance floor, and in the middle of our song, I’d get down on my knee and propose. Which I did… except instead of being met with the excitement I expected, she pulled her hand away and stepped back.” My stomach sinks and turns over as I picture the expression on her face in that moment and my dawning horror that my proposal wasn’t going as planned. “Everyone was watching, knowing that was the moment I was going to pop the question. Instead of applause, there was a sort of collective gasp. Audrey started crying, and when I looked around, everyone had their phones out, filming. I remember thinking how they were all going to have a record of the worst moment of my life in their pockets when they left that night.”
Kenzie squeezes my hand, drawing me from my thoughts. “I’m so sorry, Andrew. That must have been incredibly difficult.”
I push my free hand through my hair. “You have no idea. I mean, I was so sure. So sure. It didn’t even cross my mind that she’d say no. We’d talked about our future so many times and she’d never given any indication that anything was amiss or that she wasn’t on board. I was completely blindsided.”
“Did she give you a reason she couldn’t marry you?” Her voice is gentle.
“Nothing specific, no. She just said she’d thought it was what she wanted, but in the moment, when I was down on my knee, pouring out my feelings to her and asking her to be my wife, it just felt wrong. Said she didn’t know she felt that way until I’d asked the question.”
Kenzie cringes. “That’s rough.”
I frown and nod. “Yeah. And then besides being dumped and losing the woman I loved, everyone I cared for and respected was there to see the whole humiliation.”
The corners of Kenzie’s lips turn down and she squeezes my hand again. “I’m sure everyone felt terrible for you.”
I let a caustic laugh slip out. “Of course they did. You should’ve seen the pity in their eyes. It was mortifying. I don’t know what was worse: that night when everyone felt sorry for me, or a few days later when they all started to act as if it wasn’t a big deal, told me to brush it off, get on with my life. Said I was better for it and I’d find someone else. Everyone wanted me to have a stiff upper lip. Meanwhile, I was heartbroken and in pain. The future I’d planned, counted on, and could see with such clarity had vanished.”
My chest tightens as I think about how difficult that time in my life was. Not only was I dealing with a breakup, but everyone had borne witness to my failure.
“What did you do?”
I shrug. “Licked my wounds for a bit, and after a couple of weeks, when it felt like too much to stay in England because everyone I knew and spent time with reminded me of that moment, I applied for law school in New York. Suffered through the rest of the school year, then moved here and never looked back.”
She studies me for a moment. “And that’s why you hate Christmas.”
I pull my hand away from hers. “I don’t hate Christmas.”
“You certainly don’t like it.”
“I tolerate it.” I shrug.
It’s true that anything to do with the holidays inevitably reminds me of that time in my life.
“And the reason you were so weird when my brother asked Zahra to marry him?”
I nod. “I hate the reminders.”
“Where is she now?”
I half laugh, half scoff. “She got married to the next guy she met. I guess when you know, you know.” And I wasn’t the one, which made that sting that much more hurtful.
She’s quiet for a moment as though she’s collecting her thoughts. “I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.”
I nod for her to go on.
“Promise?”
“I just laid out my most traumatizing, embarrassing story for you. I’m certainly not going to lie to you about my favorite color or what color knickers I prefer on a woman.”