Harbour Lights

What had he done?

Will listened to Evie go on and on and on about their wedding plans. What style should her dress be? What kind of flowers should they get? And who should be the maid of honor? The best man? How many invites should they have? And what about…

At this point he just blocked out her rambling. It was too much and he was getting overwhelmed. It had only been two days since the proposal and she was already planning the wedding. She was definitely excited about this, that's for sure. So excited, in fact, that she wanted to have the wedding in three weeks – three weeks.

He felt like his time was ticking down like a bomb. Three weeks was not enough, but when he tried to tell her that she just responded with a simple, "Babe, we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together. Three weeks, three months – it's not going to make a difference."

The rest of their lives together. The rest of their fucking lives together. The statement played over and over in his head.

Okay, so maybe…maybe Will had been a little rash. He had a pretty bad record of being spontaneous, but now he had finally crossed the line. He was really starting to regret what he had done.

He hadn't asked Evie to marry him because he loved her.

He asked her because he hated Marilyn so much. So even as he was proposing to another girl, he was still thinking about Marilyn while he was doing it. It was like having sex with one girl while shouting out the name of another; it was just wrong.

Still, though, Will could not deny how proud he felt after he did that. He had never felt more satisfied and happy in his life as he watched Marilyn run out of the restaurant and then burst into tears. Now she could finally feel the pain that he had felt.

Evie's voice interrupted him from his pleasant thoughts. "Will? Will! Can you pay attention?" she snapped and shoved a wedding magazine in his face. "Tell me what colors you like best for the bridesmaid dresses!"

"That one's nice, honey," he said absently and pointed at the first dress he saw.

She looked at the picture critically and said, "Green? You like green?"

"Yeah," he replied nonchalantly and got up.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I need to relax," he replied and, before he had to hear another snippy word come out of her mouth, he went down to the basement.

The contents he had hidden in the desk provided all of the relaxation he needed.

◊ ◊ ◊

"Since when are you into fancy restaurants?" Marilyn asked as they arrived at The Windlass.

"I told you already," Will said and placed a kiss on her temple, "tonight's a special night."

"If you say so," she muttered and interlaced her fingers with his.

They sat down at their table and waited to order their food. Will wasn't his usual talkative self; tonight he was silent and nervous. He kept on fidgeting with the edge of his napkin and avoided Marilyn's eyes at all costs.

Finally, Marilyn had had enough. "Will, what's wrong with you?"

"What? Oh, nothing," he hastily answered. She gave him a skeptical look and he sighed. "Okay, um...You know how I made that to-do list earlier today?" he asked.

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Well, I, uh – " He fumbled around in his pockets. Finally, he pulled out a piece of paper and pressed it into Marilyn's hand. For a moment, she was reminded of the time in math class when Will had officially asked her to be his girlfriend. "Here's the full list."

She unfolded it and began reading.1. Get out of bed. Done.
2. Eat.
3. Get dressed. (Optional)
4. Eat.
5. Take Mare Bear out to dinner.
6. Ask her to marry me.

When Marilyn read the final thing on the list her heart stopped beating. She slowly raised her eyes to meet Will's and saw that he was smiling from ear to ear.

And then he pulled out the ring.

◊ ◊ ◊

"Why didn't you say yes, then?" Chante asked. "If you loved him so much…"

It had been two days and Marilyn finally allowed people to enter her room, though she still refused to leave it herself. Chante had become so worried about Marilyn's state of depression that she was actually afraid to leave her alone. The two were currently sitting on Marilyn's bed. Chante was staring at Marilyn and Marilyn was just staring out the window.

"I was eighteen," Marilyn explained with such a force in her voice she thought she might cry again. "I was young, Chante. I loved Will, but that sort of commitment was just…too much. I had barely lived twenty years of my life, and I guess I felt that I just wasn't ready to get married. I mean, how can I know who I want to spend the rest of my life with if I've barely even lived yet?"

"That's why you left, wasn't it?" Chante inquired. "You wanted to see the world before you settled down."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I had always daydreamed about travelling ever since I was little, and then after I said no to Will…Well, you can imagine what happened to our relationship after that. I felt like that was the best time to go."

Chante nodded. "So how long did you wait, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long did you wait to leave?"

"I…" Marilyn's words faltered and she shifted her gaze to the window again. "…I left the morning after he proposed."

Chante didn't even need to say it. Marilyn already knew.

That wasn't a lot of time. Not at all. Maybe Marilyn had been a little rash.

There was a long silence in which neither of them said anything. Finally, Chante spoke up, "Do you regret it?"

Marilyn turned to meet her gaze. "No," she replied honestly.

Suddenly her phone rang. The caller ID told her it was Adam. She didn't even get the chance to say hello before he spoke. "Marilyn?" Adam huffed. He sounded panicked and out of breath. "Marilyn, I think…I think you need to come to the hospital."

"What's wrong?" Marilyn asked worriedly.

"It's Will."