Page 125 of Love What's Left
I remember.“You had it planned out. You painted it on a rock and handed it to me.”
“And you didn’t bother to look at the stone before you flung it out into the lake,” he says dryly.
“How was I supposed to know you’d just given me a special rock?”
He reaches behind him and pulls a set of folded papers from his back pocket. “Read it. And when you do, remind yourself that we love each other.”
I lower to my butt on the pebbly beach and prop the papers on my upraised knees. Gabriel joins me and waits patiently. It takes me a few moments to understand what I’m looking at.
“This is our prenup?” He’s wealthy. Rich people have prenups to protect assets. “You didn’t trust me?”
“I trusted you. Read it.”
I do, andthe contents make my stomach cramp. The demands were nearly all mine, and they were outrageous. I was mercenary and greedy. I expected a million dollars deposited in my bank account before I walked down the aisle. I demanded he give me the apartment, car, and driver he’d already been providing me for the previous several years. And after a year of marriage, I wanted to give up working altogether. The level of greed I showed in this contract looks vindictive. I can’t understand any of it.
The concessions he asked for from me, in contrast, make me look like Cruella de Vil. He wanted me to live with him and to attend family events and vacations. He requested I spend major holidays with him and asked me,when in public, to treat him with the kindness and affection expected of happily married couples. He expected fidelity from both of us. There’s a note that sexual intimacy wasn’t a requirement and was something we could decide privately on a case-by-case basis. If I was ill or in need, he wanted to be informed and permitted to offer assistance.
By the time I’m done reading, I feel queasy. “How could you marry me? I was a monster.”
He frowns. “That’swhat you get from our prenup?”
“You were so sweet, and I was awful.”
“Hardly. Read it again.”
I scan the text a second time, but don’t understand any better than I did on the first go-round. “Why did I do this?”
“I can only tell you my motives. I wanted a chance with you, and I manipulated the situation to my benefit. I was wrong for what I did,” he says.
If I were less tense, I’d roll my eyes. If Gabriel bought a wife, I made the choice to sell him one. “Dammit, I don’t remember.”
He massages my thigh. “We could try using sensory stimuli again.”
“Did you just drop a sexual innuendo into the middle of my pity party?”
He smirks. “I tried giving them up, but it was hard. So hard.”
My lips curve before I sober and ask, “Did you ever have a thought on the tip of your tongue? That’s how I feel. This last piece of our marriage is so stubborn.”
“Probably because you are.”
“It’s true. I am.”
“I wasn’t kidding about sensory stimulation. If this doesn’t work, we could try reenacting the night we got engaged.”
“Does it involve banging? If so, I’m in.”
“No, but we can add that on as a bonus later.”
“Where were we when you proposed?”
“A restaurant near our building,” he says.
“We were on a date?”
He cracks an uncomfortable looking smile. “Youwere on a date with someone else.”
I grimace. “Oh, I don’t like that.”
