Erica wants to have it all figured out. She's fresh out of college, itching to put her master's degree in psychology to use. Her fiancé of five years swears on his life they'll set a date for their wedding any day now. On top of it all, her sister a...
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What are fiancés good for? Forgetting the small stuff. Trivial things, really, like ignoring half of the grocery list to buy their favorite snacks. Talking tough around their friends and softening up when they want to lie in bed. Minor annoyances like leaving dirty dishes on the counter or leaving their gigantic shoes all around the apartment like I'm not already tripping over the crowded furniture. Oh, but the smallest, most irrelevant thing they forget?
Five-year anniversaries.
Eleven years, actually, since we dated back in high school, but he insists on counting our engagement as the starting point to our real relationship, because that's when he got serious about us. Whatever the hell that means. All I know is that we'll officially be engaged for five years this weekend, and he's currently making plans with his boys.
If only strangling your significant other could be excused in the court of law.
From the kitchenette, I crack open a fresh bottle of wine and watch magenta slosh against the side of my glass as I listen to Derek make plans for Saturday night. Pool and darts at his best friend's new place. It's so exciting he throws me an eager grin from across the apartment as he paces through the living room. Lord knows how a man with such long legs can find room to pace in a fifty square foot living room stuffed with a coffee table, TV, and sofa. Still, he manages to, just like he manages to break my heart while anticipating his forgiveness with those damn cheeky dimples in that deep brown skin of his.
His excuse will be the same as always. It was a last-minute thing. I just wanted to drop by. I didn't forget our anniversary, this'll only take like an hour. That hour usually turns into half the evening, because he has so much catching up to do with the friends he sees every weekend.
"Pfft," I grumble under my breath. "I have friends too." One sip of wine and swipe of my phone from my back pocket sets my plan in motion. Nolan and Imani are already on standby, awaiting the third year in a row that my husband-to-be conveniently forgets our big day. He'll pretend he didn't and I'll pretend to believe him. It's a wonder if he'll even show up on our wedding day at this point.
"He forgot again, didn't he?" My sister's voice is dead and monotone while jingling keys ring in the background.
"Yup." I hold my phone up to my ear with one hand and take a long sip of wine with the other. "I've already opened the first bottle. Come over."
"Dammit, you know you're not supposed to start without me!"
"Sorry, but I'm currently staring at my fiancé forget our anniversary again; when last year he swore he would try to remember these things."
"I understand, but you realize if you drink first, I'm going to need to catch up?"
"Imani, you know I'm going to be trashed before you even if you had a headstart. Just get your ass over here. I'm calling Nolan."
