Lori leaned over to me while he was in the kitchen. “Oh my God. If you don’t marry him, I will.”
Later that night, I showed her the ring again in the kitchen. She turned it slowly under the light.
“You always get everything first,” she said with a small laugh. “The good job. The good guy.”
Then she handed it back and smiled as if joking.
When I later told Nick, he laughed.
“Good to know I have options,” he said.
It felt like one of those harmless family jokes, warm and easy.
My mother, in some ways, was worse than Lori.
“You finally found a good man,” she said one Sunday. “Don’t let this one go.”
I smiled until my cheeks ached.
Mom had always favored Lori.
“She’s sensitive,” Mom would say whenever Lori got in trouble. “You’re stronger. You’ll be fine.”
So hearing her approval felt like winning a medal.
Two years later, Nick proposed during a walk in the park where we had our first date.
“Yes,” I said before he even finished opening the ring box.
He laughed. “I didn’t even finish.”
He slid the ring onto my finger, and I threw my arms around him. I pictured growing old with him.
I began planning my childhood dream wedding. We booked a beautiful church and assembled a guest list that quickly got out of control. Nick was involved in everything.
Early on, we decided to split costs evenly. Making that work in practice was a challenge.
One night, after hours of sorting invoices and contracts, I slumped onto the table and screamed into the paperwork.
Nick took the stack from me. “Let me handle the contracts.”
I looked up. “You sure?”
“Of course. I’m the groom,” he said with a grin. “I should do more than just look handsome. You can transfer your share before the wedding.”
So while I agonized over flowers and color swatches, he signed contracts.
Whenever a contract was complete, he’d show me the invoice and note my share. Combining our lives—nothing about it felt strange.
It felt mature. Like a partnership.
When the venue manager mentioned the final cost, Nick whistled.
“Good thing we’re splitting it,” he said. “Otherwise I’d have to start selling organs.”
