Read Ambrosia (A Flowering Novella) for Free Online

try to get myself together, focusing again on the form.
    It’s sometimes frustrating that we’re not in college anymore. Well, I mean, I am technically, but I’m not like most of my friends at this point. They’re all still staying in the dorms and eating in the cafeteria and figuring out their lives, and I’ve found mine. I’m barely into my twenties, and I haven’t even graduated and I have no plan for a career yet, but my life is already set. This – my apartment and wedding and relationship – this is permanent. Kristen asked if I had any doubts, if I worried that we were still young, but I knew that first weekend with Jack. I have always known, even while he has been worried.
    Still, I sometimes wish we were young again. Although Jack was never carefree, there was nothing odd back then about spending three days in bed together and having wild sex. Now, it feels irresponsible, even if it’s fun, and I hate that. I hate that we have to schedule time to get crazy.
    “Come on, princess,” he says, coming back in, now that he’s showered and dressed. “Did you find the form?”
    I shake my head. I spent the fifteen minutes it took him to shower lying on the floor, thinking. “Can you look?”
    He nods and smacks my naked ass as I stand up. I gather my clothes and head to the bathroom, glancing back at him, digging under the couch and ruffling through papers to find the DJ info.
    Jack has always called me princess, and I know it wasn’t meant to be kind at first. We weren’t supposed to work. We were supposed to be some kind of test, but it has always made sense to me. When we were choosing a place to get married, he stumbled upon Hammond Castle and he insisted it had to be there, because he wanted his “princess” to have a fairy tale wedding. The thing is, I don’t need a fairy tale. Who needs Prince Charming when you have what I have with Jack? A real love story. A friend. A companion. Someone who’s there in the middle of the night when I’m sick and someone who will hold my hand when I’m hurting and someone who smiles just because I exist.

Jack
    W edding plans have consumed my life for almost two years, but even when they have been irritating or tedious, they’ve been a distraction. I want something beautiful for Lily, and although the process is a lot more complicated than I had imagined, at no point has it been anything but a chore at its worst. Sometimes, it’s even fun – at least until the forms come out. Meeting the DJ should have been fun. We were going to pick music. What’s more fun than music?
    Lily completed the worksheet, which we found somehow shoved in between the cushions on the couch, during our ride to the appointment. We talked about our song; she had already decided it would be “Come What May,” after we’d watched Moulin Rouge . I didn’t even notice her deliberate pause as she continued filling it out. Not until later, when it was something that probably should have come up before and something I definitely should have been prepared for.
    Now, I’m sitting in the damn public restroom at the McDonald’s next door to the DJ’s office building, wanting to break a hole in the wall. I just walked out on my fiancée during a music discussion, because I’m too fucking stupid to pay attention. Worse, I should not have let it bother me like it did. I could have cushioned it, but I was tired and I was barely listening as he and Lily talked about things like processional music, so I didn’t hear her talking about the song choices for her dance with her father. All of the sudden, I went from looking out the window at the rain darkening the street to feeling caged. Did you and your mother pick a song? It was an innocent question. He didn’t know. Neither Lily nor I thought to mention it. I mean, there is no spot in the wedding planner to detail your mom’s murder, is there?
    I text Lily, apologizing, and then I slam my hand into the toilet paper dispenser. It breaks and I