Chapter 16 - A Different Kind of Proposal
Andrew proposed without an audience.
No restaurant.
No photographer hiding behind a tree.
No elaborate speech.
We were making dinner.
I was chopping onions.
He was ruining pasta.
Then he turned off the stove.
“Emily.”
I looked up.
He held a ring.
I stared.
“That's dangerously close to the onions. If I cry, you'll never know why.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“I don't want to rescue you. You don't need that. I don't want to complete you either.”
“Good start.”
“I want to build ordinary days with you.”
That sentence broke me.
Ordinary days.
After years of chaos, secrecy, medical appointments, financial investigations, courtrooms, and betrayal, someone was offering Tuesday nights.
Grocery lists.
Coffee.
Arguments about thermostats.
I said yes.
When I told Lauren, she cried.
Then immediately stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Am I invited?”
I stared at her.
She looked genuinely uncertain.
“Yes.”
“Bridesmaid?”
“Don't push it.”
She laughed.
Eventually, I made her one anyway.
Mom nearly collapsed when I told her.
Dad hugged Andrew and whispered something that made Andrew laugh.
“What did he say?”
Andrew smiled.
“That if I hurt you, he'll have to get in line behind Rebecca.”
Accurate.
Planning the wedding stirred memories.
Not all pleasant.
I worried I would compare everything to my first wedding.
Instead, I discovered how little I remembered about decorations and flowers.
What remained from that marriage wasn't the ceremony.
It was the choices afterward.
This wedding felt different because I was different.
Andrew and I signed a prenuptial agreement.
Romantic?
Absolutely.
Trust does not require financial blindness.
Andrew agreed immediately.
Rebecca practically applauded.
One evening, while reviewing guest lists, I saw Mark's name in an old document.
For the first time in months, I wondered where he was.
Then I stopped myself.
It didn't matter.
His life no longer provided context for mine.
The wedding was scheduled for October.
Small.
Outdoor ceremony at my property.
Blue hydrangeas everywhere.
Ava chose her dress months early.
Noah pretended weddings were boring while expressing extremely strong opinions about cake.
Ben wanted to carry the rings.
Lauren asked whether I was sure about having her stand beside me.
“Yes.”
“After everything?”
“Because of everything.”
She cried.
I pointed at her.
“Don't make this dramatic.”
“You're literally getting married after your sister stole your first husband.”
“When you say it like that, it does sound dramatic.”
She laughed through tears.
Then she hugged me.
On the morning of the wedding, I woke before sunrise.
Andrew had stayed elsewhere.
The house was quiet.
I walked downstairs.
On the kitchen counter sat a white bakery box.
I froze.
Then saw the note.
For old times' sake. — Lauren
Inside were cinnamon rolls.
I started laughing.
She entered behind me.
“Too much?”
“Absolutely.”
“I can throw them away.”
I took one.
“No.”
I bit into it.
Sweet.
Warm.
Ordinary.
Perfect.
May you like
Some memories don't disappear.
You simply give them competition.
