9.10 Part Two: I Love You

   "Xavier, what is this?" I laughed, looking at the outdated consignment store. He'd promised that something special was going to happen tonight, yet the storefront appeared to be the epitome of aged normality. 

   "Just, c'mon. You'll see." He smiled, taking my hand as we walked up to the enterance. 

   "Alright." I smiled, giving him a peck on his cheek, trusting him. He said tonight would be special; I'm sure it would be.

   As we stepped inside, I glanced around at the paintings, relics, vintage hat boxes, dried flowers, books, loving the history the place contained. "This place use to be the place to be. Artists would come here with paintings, sculptures, anything really, try and sell them or put them on display so art dealers and quaint museum curators would see them." He took my hand and led me to the far wall.

   "This painting is more recent." I observed, looking at the mixed media swirls of oranges and faint pinks, outlining hte question mark. "Very stylistic."

   "It's named Will."

   "Who's the painter?"

   "X. T."

   "I haven't heard of her or him before, though the work is very unique; I appreciate it."

   "I'm glad." He beamed, leading me to the next painting. Chaotic striped of blues, teals, and magentas covered the canvas, a sloppily drawn berry red heart covering the feathered face of someone wil blonde hair and mint eyes. "Entitled You, same artist."

   "Ah." Will, You. The collection was intriguing; it either bordered on utterly ameatuer, almost horrible, or was genius, showing a side of unattainable perfection, created by someone who was too apt to experiencing violent, extreme emotions. 

   The next painting was cheerier, an upside down landscape with a golden ring and two hearts. Perhaps the upside sky and grass represented how, when the two hearts collided, the artist's world was turned upside down. 

   "Marry, by X. T."

   "Will, You, Marry-" I paused, stealing a glance at the next painting. There was, against a black and white backdrop, a face, with a childish resemblance to Xavier. "Is that named Me? By X. T., Xavier Tentant."

   "Yes." He blushed, slowly lowering himself down, onto one knee. "Phoebe, ever since I met you, I knew you were special. You'd gone through so much at such a young age, you were worldly and naive, cautious and careless, you were a shining, gorgeous, mess and I knew that I had to get to know you better. Now that I have, I've realized something... I don't ever want to be without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?"

   "Marry..." I took a deep breath, looking down at the ring. I loved him so much, I wanted to jump up and down, exclaiming yes, yes, yes! Yet he didn't know I'd just met with Asher, who I use to sleep with. A sudden wave of guilt washed over me, as I urged it to go away. I loved Xavier. I want to marry him. Our love made me happy, it felt good, but we didn't have tear off each others clothes and ravage each other on the floor chemistry. Then again, I knew I had no interest in actually dating Asher or anyone like him. Why did he have to come to LA? I was happy, now I was filling with self doubt and guilt.

   "Phoebe?" He looked into my eyes with such hope, as I tried to avoid breaking down into tears. "Do you..."

   "I love you." I simply said. My words weighed heavily in the air, as he waited for a yes or a no. He slowly closed the ring box, realising that I was going to follow with a but, slipped the box back into his pocket, and stood up. 

   "What, why, Phoebe?"

   "I met with a friend today."

   "I know."

   "And... I use to sleep with him." He inhaled sharply; we both knew that neither one of us were virgins, yet the people who we use to intertwine were no longer in our lives, they posed no threats. "And he told me that he still has feelings for me."

   "Do... Do you?"

   "No, Xavier! I said I love you and it is true, I love you, and only you."

   "I love you. Just tell me, am I rushing ahead?"

   "No, you aren't! I do want to marry you, I don't know when, but I do."

   "You hesitated. Pho, if you feel the tiniest bit of hesitation, if you have the smallest lingering feelings about another man, maybe-"

   "Don't!" I gasped, tears welling up in my eyes. He couldn't be doing this; he was just on one knee proposing, know he was leading into a spiel that was bound to end with we need to talk, a phrase that meant one perilous doom was ahead.

   "I wasn't going to break up with you- I could never do that- maybe, though, we need to take some time, evaluate where were this this is going. We can't live in blissful ignorance forever, we have a business together, you practically live with me, eventually we'll either make it final or we won't."

   "I want to make it final!"

   "So do I, but... What if you're going to regret marrying a man a decade older than you? Your youth was stolen by tragedy, perhaps you... I don't know. I love you. I want you and only you Pho."

   "I only hesitated because I was thinking. Xavier, that man and I, there was no emotional connection. It was sex, just sex. I never felt anything but lust for him, I feel so much more for you. I don't know what else I can say without sounding like a broken record."

   "Let's escape."

   "Pardon?"

   "We're stressed, emotional, and I just want to get away. You said you've never been on a road trip; I can take you on one." He had to delirious. He was the responsible, level headed one, who knew what a 401k was, who shopped at organic grocer's. I was a homebody who joked about taking the first flight to Paris to see a new art exhibit. I thought sweatpants and Netflix were an acceptable social activity.

   "Alright." I said, smiling, ignoring the consequences. "Were to?"

   "Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."