Chapter 14 - THE QUESTION NATHANIEL FINALLY ASKED
Nathaniel proposed six months later.
Badly.
Which surprised me.
He was excellent at intimidation.
Terrible at vulnerability.
We were at my apartment.
Laundry machines rumbling downstairs.
I was doing quarterly tax estimates.
Romantic.
He stood in the kitchen.
“Are you busy?”
“Yes.”
“Can you stop?”
“No.”
He waited.
Five minutes.
Then:
“Now?”
I looked up.
He had a ring.
I stared.
“No.”
His face went completely blank.
Then I laughed.
“I mean no to proposing while I’m calculating estimated taxes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Cruel.”
“Try again.”
He put the ring away.
Three weeks later, he tried again.
Snake River overlook.
Snow on mountains.
No entourage.
No photographers.
Then he said:
“I have rehearsed this and hated every version.”
“Good start.”
He smiled faintly.
Then:
“The first thing I ever asked you to do was act like you were mine.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You were never mine.”
Good.
“You were never Blackridge’s either. Or Daniel’s. Or your mother’s evidence. Or a land interest.”
My throat tightened.
“You were always yours.”
There.
Then:
“I don’t want to own any part of you.”
He took out the ring.
“I want the privilege of being chosen by you repeatedly.”
That was better than any mafia line.
Then he paused.
Actually paused.
“May I ask?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
He knelt.
“Will you marry me?”
I made him wait.
Because I could.
Then:
“Yes.”
His shoulders dropped.
The feared Nathaniel Mercer looked relieved.
I loved that.
Then I added:
“Prenup.”
“Yes.”
“Separate property.”
“Yes.”
“My building stays mine.”
“Yes.”
“My mineral interest stays mine.”
“Yes.”
“Your syndicate is not a marital asset I want.”
He laughed.
“Agreed.”
“No hidden security.”
“Define hidden.”
“Nathaniel.”
“No hidden security.”
“Good.”
Independent lawyers drafted everything.
No pressure.
No rushed wedding.
Then something changed.
I asked him:
“What happens to Pinehaven if we have children?”
He went quiet.
The question mattered.
Inheritance.
Legacy.
Crime.
He said:
“I don’t want them inheriting fear as a job.”
Good.
So he created structures separating legitimate businesses from illicit operations further.
Not because children existed yet.
Because future should not require old systems.
Then we married.
Not at Grand Timber Lodge.
Too much history.
Small ceremony near Jackson Lake.
My mother’s pine bracelet around my wrist.
Nathaniel’s father’s charm in his pocket.
Michael Reeves’s charm went to Daniel.
Madeline attended.
Unexpected.
Grant did not.
Thomas did.
Complicated.
My former landlord cried.
Rebecca billed me less than expected as a wedding gift.
Best gift.
At the reception Nathaniel draped his coat over my shoulders when temperature dropped.
This time he asked:
“May I?”
May you like
I said yes.
That one word contained more romance than the first night’s entire spectacle.
