Rick leaned back in his chair. “That’s either wise or sad, Layla.”
“Probably both.”
He gave a small smile. “You say hard things like you’re apologizing for them.”
I looked down at my plate. “Habit.”
No one had ever said my name like it mattered before.
Violet noticed my growing connection with Rick quickly.
“Grandpa likes you more than the rest of us,” she said one night.
“That’s because I say thank you when he passes the potatoes.”
“No. It’s because you argue with him.”
“Only when he’s wrong.”
She laughed. “Exactly.”
Then one night, while Violet was upstairs helping her mother, Rick asked, “Have you ever considered marrying for practical reasons?”
I looked up from my tea. “As in health insurance?”
“More like security.”
I waited for the punchline.
It never came.
“You’re serious.”
“I am.”
I slowly set my cup down. “Rick… are you proposing to me?”
“Yes, Layla.”
That should have been the moment I walked away.
Instead, I asked, “Why me?”
“Because you’re intelligent and observant. Because you’re less impressed by money than you pretend to be.”
I let out a dry laugh. “That last part isn’t true.”
Then he said the sentence that cracked something open inside me.
“You wouldn’t need to worry again, Layla. About anything.”
But worrying was all I did.
Rent. Bills. The cavity I’d been ignoring. Checking my bank account before buying shampoo.
I should have said no.
Instead, I asked again, “Why me, really?”
His eyes held mine. “Because I trust you more than I trust most people who share my blood.”
I told Violet that night.
She was rinsing strawberries, and for one foolish second, I thought she might laugh.
She didn’t.
“He asked me to marry him,” I said.
The water kept running.
“What?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Do you?”
She shut off the tap. “Please tell me you said no.”
I didn’t answer quickly enough.
Her expression changed.
“I didn’t think you were that kind of person, Layla. Seriously,” she said quietly.
Some words hurt more because they sound like they were dragged out of someone against their will.
“I don’t know what kind of person you think I am,” I said.
Violet folded her arms. “I thought you had more pride than this. But you’re just like everyone else, aren’t you? After his money. After his estate. You disgust me, Layla.”
I froze.
“Pride is expensive, Violet. You should know. You’ve had the luxury of keeping yours.”
She flinched like I’d slapped her.
“Get out, Layla.”
So I did.
I don’t remember the drive home.
I only remember sitting in my car outside my apartment, hearing her voice over and over.
That kind of person.
“I need the security,” I whispered.
Three weeks later, I married Violet’s grandfather.
The wedding was small, private, and expensive enough to make my skin crawl. The flowers alone probably cost more than my rent.
I stood beside Rick, shoulders straight.
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