“To impending babies and late nights spent with puke on your shirt,” I said.

“And to a successful film at Sundance that doesn’t suck,” Sawyer said.

I clinked my glass with my best friend before we threw our shots back. Sawyer had been my best friend since high school, and his wife of two years was due to give birth any second. Sawyer was the epitome of what people expected of me: a nine-to-five job, married to the love of his life, a kid on the way. It was that boxed-up, boring little American brand people put their stamp of approval on before moving on to the next sucker.

But not me.

I wasn’t a sucker for the traditional American dream.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have a little girl in the house soon,” Sawyer said. “I’ve seen so many adorable dresses I can’t wait to buy her.”

“Better you than me,” I said.

I held up my hand to signal for the waitress, and she came over promptly. I handed her the empty shot glasses and ordered Sawyer and myself a couple more beers with another shot.

“Are you trying to kill me tonight?” he asked.

“My job is to send you home with one last hurrah,” I said, “because your life as you know it is about to be over.”

“You said that when I got married.”

“And I’m saying it again. You changed when you got married and you’ll change once this kid comes along. And it doesn’t stop there. You'll hate your life and then that one-year mark will hit and suddenly you’re pumping out another one. I don’t get the appeal, but welcome to the rest of your life,” I said.

“Speaking of families,” he said as he grabbed his beer. “When are you going to propose to Kylie? The two of you have been together for going on four years now. It’s time.”

“It’s time? I’m so tired of people telling me that. It’s time to grow up, Adam. It’s time to abandon that dream, Adam. It’s time to move on, Adam. What is this infatuation people have with this illusion we call time? What timetable are we supposed to be living our lives on?” I asked.

I threw back the shot before chasing it with my beer.

“So you haven't even thought about it is what you’re saying,” he said.

“Nope. Not for one moment.”

“And have you discussed this with Kylie yet? She’ll be looking for a ring soon.”

“She knows I don’t want to get married,” I said.

“Are you assuming she does? Or have the two of you had an explicit conversation about it?”

“There’s been nothing explicit about Kylie and me for a while now.”

“Yikes.”

“Yep. And that’s fine, because I’m not ready for any sort of long-term commitment. So if that’s the game she wants to play, that’s fine.”

“I’m pretty sure four years is a long-term commitment, Adam.”

“Look, I’m not ready for marriage, and I’m honestly not sure I ever will be,” I said. “The fuck’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing if Kylie knows that. But if she’s looking for something different than you, then you owe it to her to have a conversation. You know, communicate, like regular couples do.”

“At least you’re not on the ‘move in with her’ train any longer,” I said.

“Now that you mention it…”

“Oh come on, Sawyer. Moving in is practically like getting married. First you share a space, then a bed. You share food and then you share cell phone plans. Pretty soon you’re buying a dog together and opening a credit card together, and then everything goes to shit and you’re drawing out an informal custody agreement for a fucking teacup poodle.”

“But you haven’t been thinking about it,” he said with a grin.

“Even if I wanted to move in with Kylie, neither of us can. We’re both in leases we can’t get out of. Kylie just re-signed hers and I re-signed mine two months ago. What do you expect us to do?”

“I don’t expect anything of you two except communication,” he said. “You’ve got all of this stuff rattling around in your head, but something tells me she knows nothing about it.”

“Don’t worry, she blindsides me with plenty.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” I said as I tipped the rest of my beer back.

I didn’t want to think about her first day of work with my father coming up soon.

“Then I’ll end our little powwow with this: Be careful. All this pent-up frustration and this wishy-washiness with your future could really end up pushing Kylie away. And if you ever do want to get serious with her, you might push her so far that she decides to move on before you do.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” I said. “Kylie isn’t leaving just because we aren’t engaged yet.”

“It’s not the engagement,” Sawyer said. “It’s the attitude behind it.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Adam, this past year has been rough for you. We all know it. We all see it. Opening the production company? Taking out all those loans? Your first film falling through?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And that’s fine, but you’re unleashing this anger somewhere. You’re unleashing this frustration somewhere. And I know it’s not on me. We don’t see each other often enough. But you see Kylie often enough.”

“I’m not unleashing anything on her, so cut it out.”

“And your want to push the subject off to the side tells me otherwise. All I’m saying is Kylie is her own person. If you push her away, it’s her decision whether or not she wants to leave—and there’s no guarantee you’ll get her back,” he said.

“So what do you suggest, oh wise one?” I asked.

“Have a conversation with her,” he said. “That’s all it takes. Ask her what she wants and compare it to what you want. Then talk about it. Figure out a compromise or understand that it will result in the two of you going your separate ways.”

“Sounds like a hoot,” I said flatly.

“It’s the nature of relationships. My wants in life line up with Susan’s. It’s why we work. It’s not just because we get along and not just because the sex is great, but because what we want in life lines up. Had we not wanted the same things, we would’ve never gotten married, never decided to start a family, never done any of that.”

“I love Kylie,” I said.

“But it takes more than love to make things like this work.”

“So what? You’re asking me to end things with her? Just break up with her because what we want right now might not line up right this second?”

“These questions force you to think about your future, to map your life a little bit.”

“And we’re back to the imaginary timetable,” I said.

“Stop throwing that fucking attitude and listen.”

“Shouldn't we be celebrating the impending birth of your child?” I asked.

“Well, if this is supposedly a last hurrah, then I’m getting my licks in while I can,” he said. “I don’t doubt for one second that you love Kylie. I’ve seen you run to her rescue and I’ve watched her drop everything in her life to come after you. The two of you work. That isn’t the question. The question is, does what she wants for her future line up with what you want.”

My mind rushed back to the argument in that restaurant with my father. Just that small little decision about her future didn’t line up with what I saw for us. And right there, without talking to me about any of it in private first, she had accepted my father’s job offer. In the moment, I had thought it was out of spite, to mock me for questioning her at a table with a powerful man like my father. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to understand that maybe she had done it because she really did want the job.

That didn’t mean we still didn’t talk about it first.

“Question,” I said.

“Answer,” Sawyer said.

“You and Susan. You talk about all this communication stuff. If you’re going to make a big decision in your life—like, say, a decision about your career—wouldn’t you talk to Susan about it before making a decision?”

“Of course I would,” he said. “That’s part of being in a relationship.”

“And would she be angry at you if you didn’t?”

“Insanely upset, especially if it uprooted us without her knowledge or something of that sort. Why? Where is all this coming from?”

“Just asking,” I said as another beer was set down in front of me.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one in Kylie’s and my relationship who had a communication problem.

“There something you want to talk about?” Sawyer asked as he picked up his fresh beer. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

“Nope. Nothing that hasn’t already been settled,” I said. “But I do have another toast.”

“Have at it.”

“To blossoming relationships and repairing cracks. May the love we have for our women shine even in the darkest of lights.”

“Here fucking here,” Sawyer said.

As I clinked my beer with Sawyer’s, I thought back to the first time I ever saw Kylie. She had walked into that English room with a confidence and a swagger that had been undeniable. Eighteen and fresh out of high school, she’d had a look in her eyes that had told me she could conquer the world. And I knew I would need a woman like that if I was ever going to have a relationship with someone. I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. Her long, light brown hair had glistened as she’d walked through the room and taken a seat right at the front. Her hazel eyes held speckles of gold that I lost myself in every time I looked into her eyes. And her legs. Fuck. Long and toned, boasting of the running she did every single morning to start her day.

I had struck up a conversation with her during a first-day group exercise in that class, and I hadn’t left that room until I had made sure she would meet me for coffee that evening.

I still loved her. Buried underneath the anger and frustration of this past year, I still loved her, still cherished her, still needed her in my life. But she wasn’t without her faults, and lately it was as if both of our glaring faults were bubbling to the surface and being looked at underneath a microscope.

One thing was for certain, though. No matter how any of this panned out, and no matter how weird it was for me to have my girlfriend working for my father, I didn’t want to lose her.

We had history, memories. We’d painted the town of Portland with our love on many occasions. I couldn't walk through the damn place without pulling up a memory of her.

We were meant to be together in Portland.

We were meant to be together period.