It started with a look

It started with a look. He looked at me. I looked at him. From there, it grew. He walked up to me and stumbled over his words as he asked if he could buy me a coffee.

"Cappuccino, please." I tossed my head a little, hoping it will settle my unruly hair into place. He smiled and nodded, then turned toward the counter.

"Two cappuccinos, please," he told the barista. When he walked over several minutes later, holding two steaming cups, he set them both on the table and then held out a hand. "I'm John, by the way. John Starley."

"Emma." I took his hand and could almost feel his fast-beating heart through his skin. "Emma Prince. So, what do you do for a living?" As I spoke, I wrapped both hands around my paper cup and took a long sip, letting the warmth steady me.

"I'm a musician. I was actually here scouting, trying to find new venues. This is the fifth. coffee shop I've visited today." He laughed lightly. "I'm getting quite jittery from all that caffeine." I laughed in return, but secretly filed away that information. No wonder his heart was beating so quickly! "What about you?"

"I'm a writer," I told him. I tapped my laptop, which sat on the table. "Mostly short stories, a little bit of poetry. I'd like to write a novel, but I struggle to find a sufficient idea."

"What are you working on today?"

"A poem about the Ugly Duckling." I blushed deeply at such a childish subject.

"Tell me more," he asked, leaning forward and looking deeply into my eyes.

We met again the next day for coffee, and the day after for dinner, and that weekend we took a trip to the next city over, where John had a gig. With each date, we fell more in love... or at least I did.

As time went on, we spent all our time together. I went to all of John's performances, no matter how far they were, and my life was consumed with helping John with his career. I became a manager of sorts, finding places for him to play and helping him set up.

For our six month anniversary, he took me to Stella, a small restaurant in the posh part of the city. Reservations were booked for six months at a time, so I was unsure how he had done it. Had he planned to take me from our very first date?

I didn't wait long for my answer. Dessert was a lovely chocolate lava cake filled with a sparkling diamond ring! As the ring tumbled out after I took the first bite, John grabbed the ring and got down on one knee.

"Emma Prince. From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. From that first moment, we clicked: we belong together, you and I. Emma Prince, will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you be my wife?"

I was crying. Big, salty tears fell all over the chocolate cake and I couldn't speak. I nodded silently, unable to voice the "yes" that was screaming inside my mouth.

"Yes." Finally it came. Broken, tear-filled, but very clear: "Yes, of course!" I reached out my hand, which trembled as he put the ring on my finger.

The next day, John lost a spot at a prestigious venue, opening for a popular artist who was holding a fundraising concert there. John was upset, more upset than I'd ever seen him.

"How could this happen? Didn't you tell her agent how important this is to my career? Didn't you tell them how pleased I am for the opportunity? How could you let this happen, Emma? This is your fault!"

"John–"

"No! This is your fault, Emma. You'd better pray I recover from this." He slammed the door and stormed out.

He came back later, bearing flowers and apologies and begging for me to take him back.

"Of course I forgive you. Everyone gets angry sometimes."

Little did I know that "sometimes" was about to become "always." Soon, he was always angry. Everything was my fault, everything was wrong, and he never took the blame. I wanted to leave, but my life revolved around John now. I had quit writing–there was no need, and no time since I started acting as John's manager and planning a wedding. We had been dating for a year, engaged for six months, and no part of my life was absent of him. My family was far away, my friends and I had drifted apart, and I was alone.

Why do I want to leave anyway? I wondered. I love John, and he loves me. Nothing else should matter. I'm in the best place I can be: with him.