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He closes his eyes and collects himself. “I found out a few days ago that Grandmother has decided to give the bulk ofher fortune to charities. She’s not waiting until she’s dead. She’s liquidating many of her assets now.”
I still don’t know how this relates to me, but I don’t interrupt.
“Though she refuses to explain most of her updated will until after Christmas, she has mentioned how much each grandchild will receive as an inheritance. It’s a joke how little she’s leaving us. Grandfather inherited his fortune from his own father. It’s generational wealth, which means it should pass from generation to generation.”
I’ve always known Spencer is wealthy by the cut of his suits, the restaurants and entertainment he takes me to on our dates, and the Porsche he drives. I thought it was from his career as a lawyer with a thriving corporate law firm. I had no idea he was the product of generations of accumulated riches.
I cross my arms and sit with this information, surprised at how it intimidates me.
“There is one bright spot in all of this,” Spencer continues in a calmer voice, oblivious to my own inner turmoil. “Grandmother has it in her head that her grandchildren are at the age where they should be married. She will double the inheritance for wives and children.”
He looks directly into my eyes. He doesn’t say it outright, but I make the connection. This is a marriage proposal. I laugh, ill at ease.
“You can’t be serious.” There’s a slight tremor in my voice. “We have fun together, but that doesn’t mean we’d make a good married couple.”
“I disagree. I think we’ll get along well.” He clears his throat. “There is another reason I want to get married soonerrather than later. I have a client who doesn’t take me seriously because I’m thirty-four but not in a serious relationship. I can understand how you might find this sudden, but I have no hesitation in saying you’re the wife I want.”
My head feels dizzy. This makes little sense.
“We have never once spoken about marriage,” I say.
He studies me. “We are now.”
From his inside coat pocket, he takes a small ring box and lays it on the table before opening the top and sliding it toward me. Inside is the largest diamond ring I have ever seen. Emerald cut with smaller diamonds along the platinum band. I don’t want to guess how many thousands of dollars it cost him.
That is a serious ring. This proposal is serious.
I glance around, grateful no one notices our conversation. Attention would make this scene even more ridiculous.
“Put that thing away,” I whisper. “It’s going to blind someone.”
He flips the lid closed but doesn’t take it back. He studies me like I’m a problem he needs to figure out how to fix. “If we get married, my money is your money, and you don’t need to repay anything. You’ll have whatever you need to take care of Ellen.”
Even if I am desperate for money, I’m notthatdesperate. I won’t entertain the thought … except I do. No debt. No more stress about Nana’s bills. No penny pinching for the rest of my life. No more stress knitting. I can knit because I love it and not because of desperation. For that one moment, the relief I feel makes my head spin.
Then reality catches up.
If I marry, I want it to be for love. I want my husband to love me more than his job. What Spencer and I have is not that kind of relationship.
“We can’t even make a dating relationship last longer than three months at a time,” I say. “A marriage between the two of us wouldn’t survive.”
“You broke up with me last time,” he says with conviction. “Remember how I begged you not to?”
I wouldn’t call him saying, “Please, Layla, give me another chance,” after he missed our second date in a row as begging.
“I want a relationship with you to last longer than a few months at a time,” he says. “If giving you a comfortable life and everything you need to take care of those you love is the motivation you need to commit, I’m going to leverage those things to my advantage. Layla, give me a chance to prove to you what kind of husband I can be.”
I sigh. “Not a good one for me if work remains your only priority.”
He doesn’t argue the point. “I can’t say my commitment to the firm will change going forward, but I can be better at listening to you. For example, I will stay off my phone during dinner.”
My eyes widen at the audacity of such a statement from him. If that were a possibility, why hasn’t he implemented it sooner?
He laughs at my expression. “I’m a work in progress, but if you’re with me, it will be worth it.” He points to my cake with his spoon. “Eat. Think.”
He cracks the top of his crème brûlée as if he hasn’t a care in the world. A stark contrast to five minutes ago.
The first bite of cake melts in my mouth. Spencer loves good food and only when I’m with him do I get to indulge. If we married, dinners like this would become a regular part of my life. I could eat here every week if I wanted—though more often than not I’d be eating alone. I don’t mind being alone, or even eating at restaurants alone. What I would struggle with is knowing Spencer doesn’t care if I’m alone because he would have more important places to be.
