Chapter 3
The sentence broke something cleanly.
I pulled my hand away.
Then I looked at the engagement ring I had worn for eleven months.
I twisted it once.
Ryan saw what I was doing.
His face drained of color.
“Claire.”
I slid the ring off my finger.
Margaret stood.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I placed the ring on top of the accepted offer for the Kirkland house.
Right across the line that showed the missing down payment.
Ryan stared at it.
“What are you doing?”
I looked at the man I had planned to spend my life with.
“I’m saying no once.”
His eyes widened.
“And this time,” I said, “I need you to hear it.”
Then someone knocked on the door.
My wedding planner called from the hallway.
“Claire? We’re at fifteen minutes.”
I looked at Ryan.
He whispered, “Please don’t do this.”
And for one terrible second, I almost put the ring back on.
I wish I could say I felt powerful.
I didn’t.
I felt sick.
My hands were cold. My mouth had gone dry. Somewhere downstairs, people who loved me were checking their watches and wondering when the ceremony would begin.
I had pictured this day since Ryan proposed on a rainy overlook above Puget Sound.
I had pictured my dress.
His face.
The music.
The vows.
I had even pictured the stupid little things, like whether I would remember to give my bouquet to Nora before exchanging rings.
I had not pictured myself barefoot in a bridal suite trying to decide whether walking away from my wedding made me strong or insane.
Ryan moved closer.
“We don’t have to buy the house.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’ll cancel the offer Monday.”
“That’s not the point either.”
“I’ll put the fourteen thousand back.”
I looked at him.
“You’re still talking like this is about correcting the transaction.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want to know why you believed it was acceptable to build a plan around my money after I had already said no.”
“I didn’t build it around your money.”
I pointed at the page.
“My name has a half-million-dollar number beside it.”
He looked away.
Margaret folded her arms.
“Marriage means discussing major assets.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you offended that we are discussing one?”
“Because you are confusing discussion with preparation.”
She blinked.
“You toured a house. You ran numbers. Ryan signed an offer. Money disappeared from our account. And only after all of that did you decide I should be included.”
Margaret’s expression changed.
Not guilt.
I would have recognized guilt.
It was frustration.
She genuinely believed I was refusing to understand something obvious.
“Your parents left you an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar house that sits empty most of the year.”
“It is not empty most of the year. I stay there.”
“Occasionally.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“It costs taxes, maintenance, insurance—”
“Margaret.”
She stopped.
“The fact that selling it might someday make financial sense does not mean you get to decide when I should be ready.”
May you like
Ryan sat on the edge of the couch.
“Mom, stop.”
