Chapter 9 - A Question Without a Deadline
Eight months after the marina, our company won a place in the harbor redevelopment partnership.
Not the entire project.
A defined operating role awarded after competitive review, with financing approved by the board and no wedding guests anywhere near the documents.
I signed on a Tuesday wearing reading glasses.
It was the most romantic business closing of my life.
Adrian’s firm participated in one financing tranche after independent review. I recused myself from the approval process.
Nobody asked me to prove love by skipping a safeguard.
We celebrated that evening at my parents’ house.
Mom served the chocolate cake I had wanted for the canceled wedding instead of the elaborate lemon confection Collin’s mother preferred.
Dad raised his glass.
“To Mallory.”
I groaned.
“Please don’t make a speech.”
“Too late. I’ve prepared four words.”
He looked at me.
“You were always enough.”
The room blurred.
Adrian squeezed my knee beneath the table.
Later, Dad asked him to help carry plates into the kitchen.
I followed with the glasses.
Neither man knew I was in the doorway when Dad spoke.
“I owe you an apology.”
Adrian set down a platter.
“You’ve already apologized.”
“For believing the Prescotts. Yes. This is for treating your presence in my daughter’s life like a question about business.”
Adrian glanced toward the hallway.
“I understand why you’re careful.”
“I was careful about the wrong things.”
I stayed where I was, listening to the quiet sound of a dishwasher opening.
Then Dad added, “She doesn’t need my permission. But you have my respect.”
Adrian’s answer came softly.
“Thank you.”
Three weeks later, we drove to a small coastal town for the weekend.
No chartered yacht.
No negotiated itinerary.
We stopped twice because I wanted coffee, once because Adrian insisted a roadside stand sold the best strawberries in California, and once because we missed the turn while arguing about a song.
At sunset, we walked down to the beach.
Adrian seemed unusually quiet.
I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
I had become very good at noticing.
“What?”
He smiled.
“I had a speech.”
“Oh, no.”
“It was excellent in the car.”
“Was I in the car?”
“You were asleep.”
“That explains why I approved.”
He laughed.
Then he reached into his pocket.
My breath caught.
The ring was simple. An oval sapphire with two small diamonds.
“I asked your mother what you actually like,” he said. “She said you’ve been pretending to prefer enormous diamonds since you were twenty-four.”
I covered my mouth.
He did not kneel immediately.
First, he looked at me.
“I want to ask you something. There is no deadline, and nothing bad happens if your answer is no.”
My eyes filled.
Only then did he lower himself onto one knee.
“Mallory Keene, will you marry me?”
Behind him, the ocean moved steadily toward shore.
No clock.
No audience waiting for the correct response.
No business agreement resting on my answer.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He smiled so suddenly that I began laughing.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He stood, and I kissed him before he could put the ring on my finger.
We were still laughing when he finally managed it.
The next morning, I received a letter from Collin.
It had been forwarded through Elena’s office after I told him months earlier to stop contacting me directly.
I read it alone.
He wrote that losing his role had forced him to examine himself. He apologized for the affair, the lies, and the recording. He did not ask me to return.
For the first time, he named what he had done without blaming my reaction.
I hoped he meant it.
I also understood that his growth did not require my participation.
I placed the letter in an envelope with the old engagement photographs and put them in a box.
Adrian found me afterward.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the box but did not ask to read anything.
I took his hand.
“Can we get married somewhere small?”
“How small?”
“Small enough that I recognize everyone who sees me cry.”
He kissed my forehead.
May you like
“That sounds perfect.”
For once, perfect meant something I could actually live inside.
