Chapter 14 - The House With My Name on It
Nathan proposed three years after we met.
Not in the mansion.
Not at a restaurant.
In the garden.
He held out a ring.
Then said:
“Before you answer, I want you to know I don't want my name on your house.”
I burst out laughing.
He looked nervous.
“Was that bad?”
“No.”
I wiped my eyes.
“It was perfect.”
We signed a prenup.
Nathan had his attorney.
I had Rebecca.
Separate assets.
Clear obligations.
No confusion.
Nobody complained.
Nobody called it unromantic.
The wedding was held in the garden.
Small.
Warm.
My father's old friend played piano.
Rebecca cried more than I did.
During the reception, Nathan whispered:
“Should I call this our house now?”
I narrowed my eyes.
He laughed.
“Too soon?”
“Much.”
He kissed my forehead.
May you like
“Your mansion. Our home.”
That I could live with.
