Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,154

just do.”

Chloe bit her lip. That was true. In the beginning, her relationship with Geoff had been filled with promise. That changed as time went on and slowly, she realized he was not the right fit. Maybe that’s what had happened with her parents, too. The thought made her feel as though she was being torn in two.

“I’m sorry.” Kristine took Chloe’s hand. “I’m sorry we’re doing this now, when you’re getting married, when June’s getting married. But,” she let out a little sigh, “in spite of appearances, it is possible to have a long, healthy and happy marriage. You and Geoff will be able to do that. I know you will.”

“No,” Chloe said. “Actually, I don’t think we would have been able to do that. Which is why . . .” She took a deep breath and held up her left hand. “I called off the engagement.”

* * *

Breaking off her engagement was one of the most surreal experiences of Chloe’s life.

As she walked through the doors of Geoff’s building, the attendant said, “Hello, Miss,” just like always. This time, though, Chloe noticed things she hadn’t seen before. A small mole next to his ear, the way the strap on his hat bit into the skin on his neck, the tiny dent on his brass name tag.

Passing through the lobby, she noticed the sound of her boots scuffing across the floor. The large potted plant placed under the bright white buttons of the elevator and the fact that the fake leaves were perfectly dusted. That, even though the elevator arrived quickly, the clicks up to the fifty-second floor seemed slow and precise.

Time went back to normal when Geoff opened the door. His bright green eyes looked sleepy and confused. “Everything all right?” He was dressed in a pair of striped pajamas, no ascot in sight.

“I’d . . . I’d like to talk for a minute.”

Geoff looked at his watch. He nodded and moved aside, then sat next to her on the couch. They studied each other for a long moment, tension thick in the room.

“Your messages yesterday.” The words came out sounding much shorter than she’d planned. “They were awful. Why?”

Geoff rubbed his hand against his cheek. Dropping it with a thud, he said, “I apologize. I was frustrated I couldn’t get ahold of you but it all worked out. Miriam took Mary Beth for the afternoon.”

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded. “Which is great. But . . . Geoff. I can’t help but notice. Things have been different between us, ever since she’s come back.”

Geoff turned to her. There was a crease in the middle of his forehead and his green eyes were cautious. “Why are you so threatened by her?”

“I’m not threatened,” Chloe said, meaning it. “In fact, I think it’s good that she came back when she did.” Taking a deep breath, she reached into her coat pocket and placed the box with the engagement ring on the coffee table. “I’m sorry.”

Geoff’s eyes darted from the box to her naked ring finger, then back to the blue box. He made a sputtering sound before saying, “Now, hold on. What is this all about? I’m not about to let Miriam come back and ruin—”

“It’s not about her,” Chloe said, her voice quiet. “It’s about me.” With a pang, she thought back to the first moment she’d laid eyes on Geoff, speaking to her school. The way she’d been so impressed by him, so in awe. “Our relationship . . . it’s not going to work.”

“All because of a few messages?” he demanded.

A picture of Ben’s laughing blue eyes danced through her head.

“It’s not the messages,” Chloe said. “Or the fact that you expected me to drop everything to take care of your child or that your ex-wife is in town and that you deserve the chance to put your family back together.” She thought back to the beginning of their relationship. The way Geoff had encouraged her to get out and enjoy her life. “We were right for each other, for a while,” she said. “But not forever.”

Geoff sat in silence with his shoulders slumped. His hair was neatly gelled into place, his profile strong and handsome. She remembered how they’d first met, him singing his heart out in his office, wearing just those green sweatpants. If her heart wasn’t aching, she might have smiled at the memory.

Reaching over, she touched his knee. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, I . . . You’re right. I . . .”