“Open it,” I urge as I watch a kaleidoscope of emotions flash across her face—shock, relief, fear, joy, and everything in between.
She snaps back the lid, and my grandmother’s ring sparkles up at her.
“Oh, Eric,” she whispers, breathless.
Reaching for her mittened hand, I slowly pull it off. Bringing her hand to my lips, I kiss it, holding it between my own. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She hesitates, lowering her eyes, and I know I really botched this. I didn’t plan a big, flowery speech. I took her to the least romantic spot on earth. I didn’t tell her the story behind the ring. I just rushed it, and now I can’t take the moment back. This is going to be how I proposed to Ivy—in my junky old truck, freezing our asses off, in a McDonald’s parking lot. Real classy move, Young. Of course she’s going to hesitate. Who wouldn’t?
“Eric, you know I’d like that more than anything in the world…” She pauses.
“But?” I provide the word she doesn’t say.
“But I think we have a lot we need to discuss before I can say yes.” She places the ring next to our fries, not even taking it out of the box.
“This isn’t about the baby,” I sigh.
“It sure as hell is about the baby,” she corrects me, already starting to get defensive. “Eric, you know how I want us to always be honest with each other, so I’m just going to lay it all out on the table. If you can’t accept the fact that I’m having this baby—” She halts, blinking back tears as my heart drops. “Then I don’t think I can marry you.”
“Ivy, you can’t be serious.” I turn in my seat to face her, but the damn milkshake gets in the way. “I love you, and I’m not going to have you risk your life over something that can be fixed.”
“You make it sound like it’s so easy, but it’s not!” she fires back.
“Ivy, don’t make this difficult when it doesn’t have to be.” I don’t understand why she’s being so ridiculously stubborn and taking such an unnecessary risk. Doesn’t she know what she’s doing to me by going through with this pregnancy? “We’re young. We can try again. This isn’t the only shot we’ll have at being parents. It just didn’t work out this time. The circumstances are beyond our control. You have to see that I only want what’s best for you. I’m not trying to be the big bad guy who goes around forcing the woman he loves to terminate a pregnancy, but it has to be done. Didn’t you hear what Dr. P. said? The baby is going to continue to grow, and it’s only a matter of time before that flap rips off and it’s all over.”
“Yeah, I heard everything Dr. P. said, not just what I selectively chose to hear,” she huffs, shoving the bag onto the floor by her feet. “He’s never seen anything like this before. He doesn’t know for sure what’s going to happen. He’s willing to give it a chance even if you’re not.”
“I’m not putting your life on the line. I refuse to do it.” I press my shoulders against the door, wishing we weren’t in such a confined space. “It’s not worth it.”
“Not worth it? How can you say that about your own child?” She shakes her head, gazing at me with a grief-stricken expression.
“You come first,” I respond, feeling like I just crossed some invisible line.
“So you’re making me choose between you and the baby?” she asks incredulously. “We shouldn’t be on two different sides on this. We should be on the same team, or else how are we ever going to be a family?”
My eyes widen, realizing the full impact of what she is saying.
“I can’t marry someone who is going to make me divide my heart like that. I just can’t, Eric. I can’t love you more than the baby and vice versa. I don’t know how to love that way.” She reaches for the ring box, handing it back to me. “If you want me to love you more than our child—or any of the children we may have someday—I can’t do it. Not after knowing what it’s like to be a mother, no matter how fleeting it may be.”
Her words are cutting me deep, right to the bone. I don’t even know what to say to that. It’s not like she’s twisting my words. She is the first priority in my life. Everything else comes second. That’s not going to change.
“I can’t believe you’re turning me down.” I take the ring and shove it back into my pocket. Aggravated, I grab the bag and start tossing the food back inside. Flicking the wipers, I scan the parking lot before getting out of the truck.
“What are you doing?” Ivy calls out, but I don’t respond. I have to get away from her for a minute. I angrily stomp toward a garbage can, hurling our uneaten meal through the opening. The milkshakes splatter against the rim, staining the cuffs of my jacket, but I don’t even care. Everything’s ruined now anyway.
I glance back over my shoulder and see Ivy sitting there, staring at me through the half-open door of the truck. The wind is whipping the snow across my trail of footprints. I pick up my collar, at odds over what to do. I don’t want to be around Ivy right now, but I have to take her home. I foolishly trashed our lunch, and there’s nothing left in our fridge to eat. I’m going to have to stop for some groceries.
I clamber back in and act like nothing happened. I can feel her eyes on me as I throw the truck into reverse and back onto the road. We sit in silence as I make a right and turn into the nearby shopping complex. I roam the lot, but there’s nowhere to park. As usual, everyone is running for milk and eggs the minute the first snowflake hits the ground. I’m going to be in for quite a hike.
We still haven’t said anything to each other. She’s obviously furious, and I’m upset. Neither of us wants to give way, since we both think we’ve been wronged. She rejected my marriage proposal, and I’m making her choose between me and the baby. We have a lot of issues we need to resolve, but not now, not here.
“I’ll be right back,” I say in an attempt to break the ice. I’d like nothing more than to return to the daily grind and forget about things like engagement rings and transvaginal ultrasounds. I just want us to be normal and forget this day ever happened. “Do you need anything?” I ask, because she always does. Usually it’s something like half a pound of roasted turkey from the deli or a loaf of the rye bread she likes from the bakery. But she just shakes her head, gazing forlornly out the window at the falling snow.
I better make this quick. I jog through the automatic door, dragging a shopping cart along with me. The store is crowded and it takes me longer to get through the aisles than I anticipated. The lines at the check-out are insane, but I bide my time. I plan on making it up to her as I load the ingredients for the pasta dish she’s been craving onto the conveyor belt. I once again reach for my credit card and swipe it through the machine before hightailing it out of there.
As I get closer to the truck, I notice that the engine’s no longer running. Now why would Ivy turn off the heat? It’s freezing out here as I try to navigate the cart through the drifting snow. The back window is covered as I start tossing the bags into the cab. Too bad I left the scraper in the glove compartment. Using my sleeve, I wipe away some of the snow to let Ivy know that I’m back, but she’s not in the truck.
Shit! Where did she go?
The door is unlocked and my keys are dangling in the ignition. I look around for a note, but there isn’t one. Maybe she had to use the restroom or something. Should I wait here until she gets back and warm up the truck? Or should I start searching all of the shops in the plaza? I glance frantically around unsure of what to do and worried that she’s wandering around in this storm as the wind shakes the frame of the truck.
I fumble for my phone with my semi-frozen fingers to call her cell, but relief washes through me when I see that I have a text from Ivy.