Chapter 12
“If I say no?”
“Then I’ll survive.”
“And still criticize my forecasts?”
“Relentlessly.”
“Ask me Friday.”
He did.
I said yes.
Our first date was terrible.
I arrived twelve minutes late.
Marcus chose a restaurant with paper menus because he said linen menus suggested unnecessary overhead.
We accidentally discussed work during the appetizers.
He ordered dessert before dinner because he wanted to “reduce uncertainty.”
When he walked me home, he asked if he could kiss me.
I said no.
“All right.”
That was it.
No wounded performance.
No demand for explanation.
The next morning, I called him.
“I wasn’t rejecting you.”
“You said no.”
“I know.”
“So I interpreted it as no.”
“You’re making this very difficult to dramatize.”
“A professional weakness.”
We went out again.
Eventually, I kissed him first.
Slowly, awkwardly, without fireworks.
It felt safer than fireworks.
A year passed.
Laya and Theo entered custody mediation.
Theo began parenting classes and regular visits.
Laya found another job.
She repaid the improperly classified company benefits through a settlement.
We never became friends.
I didn’t need us to.
Eleanor sold the engagement ring Nathan had once given me and placed the money into a trust for Miles.
No marriage condition.
No voting rights.
No control over his mother.
Just money for his future.
Nathan challenged his removal twice and lost twice.
Eventually, he moved to Arizona and joined a small medical investment firm.
One night, more than a year after the wedding, I received an email from him.
No subject line.
I saw the trial results. You were right about the sale.
That was all.
No apology.
No attempt to reopen the past.
Just one honest sentence.
I did not reply.
Three months later, Marcus proposed in my kitchen.
There were no orchids.
No photographers.
No family trust.
He placed a ring box beside a dead houseplant he had once given me.
“This is not a merger,” he said.
“Good. Your opening terms are weak.”
“I have additional terms.”
“I’m listening.”
“I love you. I want a life with you that has room for your work, my travel, bad forecasts, arguments, changed plans, and the possibility that neither of us will always know the correct answer.”
I stared at him.
His confidence disappeared.
He looked nervous.
Really nervous.
“Will you marry me?”
“I need to think.”
Fear crossed his face.
But he nodded.
“All right.”
“That doesn’t mean no.”