1 The night Teddy Phillips got dumped, she had expected to get engaged. It's not that Richard had been too obvious, but there were signs. He was more distracted than usual, looked more nervous when she talked to him. Richard was usually confident, perhaps to a fault, so she found this charming. As if she'd say no! As if she'd say anything other than "Yes, I want to marry you and be with you until death do us part!" after which Richard would pick her up and spin her around. Richard had asked her that morning if they could talk that night, so she decided to set the mood by making one of his favorite meals: spaghetti and meatballs. Some people might have called Richard a picky eater, but Teddy preferred to think of him as a selective eater. Really, why go through all the work of trying out new meals when you knew the five or so things you liked best? Was she disappointed when she came home from her shift at work to discover that the apartment looked the same as it always had? A bit. But after six years together, she knew not to expect rose petals on the floor or Richard waiting for her by candlelight, down on one knee, asking her to make him the happiest man in the world. Richard wasn't showy about their relationship, and that was one of the things she liked about him. But Teddy knew she could create a mood; after all, that was what she did in their relationship. Richard worked long hours as a doctor, and he didn't have time to do things like "decorate the apartment" or "buy coordinating throw pillows" or "prepare his own meals." That was what Teddy did. A lot of people didn't realize, she thought to herself as she simmered the pork-and-beef meatballs in her special homemade tomato sauce, that being in the background was sometimes just as important as being in the spotlight. Sure, in their relationship, Richard was the one who stood out, the one who had the important job. But being in the shadows wasn't so bad. Someone had to make the shadows cozy; even shadows could use a diffuser or a comfy knit blanket. And their town house was nothing if not cozy. Teddy was especially proud of the fall tableau she'd created on the mantelpiece of their gas fireplace as soon as she flipped the calendar to September. Pumpkins and a felt leaf garland were involved because, in her opinion, a house wasn't a home unless it was filled with miniature pumpkins in the fall. Teddy dumped the pasta into the boiling water and set the timer. Humming to herself, she lit candles on the table, then took out her phone to choose some music. This was the first time she'd considered the question: "What music would I like to get engaged to?" She bit her lip, scrolling, and then found a playlist called "Best Music to Play During a Proposal." "Unchained Melody," "Can't Help Falling in Love." . . . Yes, this was perfect. As the Righteous Brothers started playing, Richard walked through the door with a jingle of keys. Teddy spun around quickly and smiled. "Um," Richard said, looking around in confusion. Okay, so this wasn't exactly the reaction Teddy wanted. No matter. "Hi, you," she said as the timer went off. She grabbed her strainer and carried the pot to the sink. "Just thought I'd make things special for tonight!" Richard still hadn't moved from the doorway. After Teddy strained the pasta, she crossed the room and closed the door behind him. "How was work today?" she asked. He blinked. "It was fine. This is just surprising." He sniffed. "Did you make . . . ?" "Spaghetti!" Teddy said with a smile. "Your favorite!" Richard frowned at her light gray cardigan. "Don't forget to soak that." She looked down and saw a splatter of tomato sauce. Richard had once told her that bright colors made her skin look sallow, so now she mostly wore neutrals, and this J.Crew cardigan was one of her favorites. "Oh, shoot," Teddy muttered, then looked back at Richard and smiled. "Anyway, it's almost ready. Want to sit down?" Richard nodded as Elvis's voice filled the room. "Uh, yeah. Let me go get changed." A few minutes later, Teddy placed bowls of pasta, glasses of wine, and a loaf of homemade garlic bread on the table as Richard emerged from their room. He sat down without a word, so Teddy followed suit. He took a bite in silence, so she did the same. He's probably worried, she told herself. Asking someone to marry you seemed like it might be a bit nerve-racking, although he must already know what her answer was. Richard speared a meatball with his fork, then cleared his throat. "Teddy, there's something I need to say." "Yes!" Teddy said brightly. Richard paused and looked from the meatball to her. "What?" It finally registered that he hadn't actually asked her anything, let alone proposed. "Sorry," Teddy said. "I . . ." She sighed. She would have to make this easier for Richard; that was what she did, after all. She made things easier for a partner who worked so hard. "I know you're nervous," she said, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "I know this is a hard conversation for you." Relief washed over Richard's face. "You do?" Teddy nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! You think I haven't noticed the way you've been distant? The way you've been working even more than usual?" Richard slumped over. "Wow. Have I been that obvious?" Teddy smiled. "Well, yeah, but it's okay. Because I'm going to answer the question so you don't have to ask it. Yes." Richard's eyebrows shot up so high that Teddy was afraid they were going to hit his hairline. "Yes?" She squeezed his hand again. Surely this was the moment he'd get out the ring. "A thousand times yes." "Whew!" Richard let out a nervous laugh. "I can't tell you how much better this makes me feel. I've been stressing out over this for weeks, wondering how you'd react-" Teddy shifted in her seat as her smile turned to a frown. "You . . . didn't know?" Richard's eyes widened. "Of course not. But obviously you could tell something was off, too. Man, this has got to be the easiest breakup I've ever had." Teddy pulled her hand back. "What?" she whispered. "Not that there's much of a contest. My high school girlfriend toilet-papered my entire yard when we ended things, and she even used a ladder to reach the really high spots. That toilet paper stayed in the tops of the trees until it rained. Now that was a bad breakup." Teddy stayed silent. "I mean, to be fair, I did cheat on her. But still. It was a bit dramatic." Teddy looked at the spaghetti sauce, now cold and unappetizing on her plate. Richard shoveled food into his mouth. "I can't believe how hungry I am now that we got THAT over with. Why is CZline Dion playing?" Teddy realized, as regret washed over her, that she wouldn't ever be able to listen to "My Heart Will Go On" again without thinking of the time Richard unceremoniously dumped her over a plate of spaghetti. Not that she'd listened to it much since elementary school, anyway, but it was the principle of the thing. "I can turn it off," Teddy mumbled, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I'm so glad you already knew I was going to ask you to move out," Richard said, his mouth full. "But I'm not surprised. You always kinda know what I'm thinking before I do." "You want me to . . . move out?" Teddy whispered. Richard shrugged. "One of us has to leave, and it's not like you could afford the town house on what you make at the toy store, you know? So it makes sense." Teddy nodded. "Right. It makes sense." "I knew I couldn't be the only one who realized something was off," Richard said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "And think of it this way: maybe this will be the motivation you finally need to figure out what you want to do with your life." Teddy recoiled in confusion. "What?" "Well." Richard chuckled, and Teddy noticed that he had a piece of oregano stuck in his teeth. "It's not like it's some secret that you don't know what you want, Teddy. That's kind of the difference between you and me, isn't it? I've always wanted to do something big, be a doctor, help people. And you . . . well, you've always had a smaller life. I guess we should've known it wouldn't work forever." Teddy willed herself not to cry. Okay, so she hadn't known what she wanted when she met Richard in college . . . but that was what Richard was for, right? He was the thing she wanted. She didn't have to worry about figuring out what she should do with her life because she could focus on making Richard's the best it could be. She'd spent years making things as easy as possible for Richard, she thought as she blinked back tears. She should fully commit and make this breakup as easy as possible, too. "Great dinner, by the way," Richard said, getting up from the table without clearing his plate. "Could probably use more garlic next time, though, don't you think? Oh, and, uh, not to be pushy, but when do you think you're going to leave?" "Leave?" Teddy asked. Tonight she couldn't stop repeating Richard's words, since she couldn't seem to find any of her own. "I just think that the sooner you go, the easier it will be," Richard said, wincing. "For both of us." Teddy stood up and carried their plates to the sink. "Right. I'll leave tonight and come back for my stuff soon." Teddy knew that she should have probably done something to convince Richard that they should stay together. There must have been something she could say to remind him that they'd been together for years, that they loved each other, that she did nothing but take care of him. But then . . . that was the problem, wasn't it? Richard didn't want her the way she was; he wanted someone else, someone more. He stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed. He didn't look devastated or remotely sad. He looked like a man who was about to kick back with a relaxing night of single-camera sitcoms on Netflix. "Well . . . ," he said, and Teddy thought, This is it. This is the part where he says it was a mistake, that we should be together, that this doesn't make sense. That we work so well together, that he appreciates me making his life so easy, that he knows he never would've picked out that beautiful area rug he's standing on without me. That he needs me. "You need any help?" he asked, the same way he might have asked to help carry some groceries. This was the end, then. This was the way things were happening, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to change it. 2 In her car, as soon as the reality of what had happened sank in, Teddy burst into tears. She didn't like to cry in front of Richard, because he was one of those people who got uncomfortable around tears, as if sadness was a contagious disease. But now, in the comfort of the front seat and as the radio played a commercial for a heating-and-cooling company, she let them fall. She'd texted her best friends, Eleanor and Kirsten, before she got in the car and warned them that she was coming over. Even though she loved them, she didn't see them all that much, since she was always with Richard. As far as they knew, she and Richard were the perfect couple, so the breakup would no doubt be as surprising for them as it had been for Teddy. So while Eleanor and Kirsten were two of the kindest people Teddy knew, she didn't know how they'd respond to her showing up on their doorstep, tearstained and also spaghetti stained. Especially because she had no idea where she'd be staying until she could figure out how to get her own place. Technically, there was her mother, although she would probably give Teddy a laminated to-do list of all the ways she could get her life back on track. She knew Sophia, her sister, would take her in, but she had two children and a husband. And then there was her boss, Josie, who was like a second mother to her . . . but Teddy would feel embarrassed to admit to Josie how low she'd really sunk. Richard had been her life since the day they'd met at a crowded Starbucks. Teddy had been there because, as a third-year undecided Arts and Sciences major, she was reading Heart of Darkness for the third time. For some reason, every lit professor she'd had loved discussing that book. Teddy may have been undecided, but she knew what she didn't want: to read Heart of Darkness again. And so she'd decided that a caramel macchiato might make the process, if not pleasurable, at least tolerable. Richard had been in line in front of her. She listened to him order an Americano as she stared at the back of his head and the perfect swirl of his golden hair. She could tell by the way he stood-tall, confident, shoulders back-that he was someone who knew what he wanted. He probably wasn't on his third year of being undecided. As they waited for their drinks, he got a phone call and walked away from the counter, and then out the door. The barista set down an Americano for Richard, and Teddy watched him outside, pacing as he talked on his phone. He was going to forget his drink, or someone else was going to grab it, Teddy realized. For the first time in a while, she felt a sense of purpose. She'd bring him his coffee. He hung up the phone as soon as she walked up to him, holding out the cup. "Didn't want you to forget this," she'd said quietly. He'd looked at her, amused, and Teddy instantly knew she was a goner. Here was someone who, she could tell, needed her. Here was someone she could help. It turned out that Richard, a few years older than her, was studying to become a dermatologist, which seemed so much more important than what she was doing (currently, not much of anything). After a few months of being together, of helping Richard study and quizzing him and making sure he ate balanced meals, Teddy unofficially switched her major to Assisting Richard. Officially, she ended up graduating with an English degree, more out of convenience than because she had plans to do anything with it. With Richard, she felt useful, because unlike the rest of the world, Richard needed her. Excerpted from Very Sincerely Yours by Kerry Winfrey All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
