“You finally found a good man,” she told me one Sunday. “Don’t let this one go.”
I smiled so hard my cheeks ached.
Two years later, Nick proposed during a walk in the park where we’d had our very first date.
“Yes,” I said before he had even finished opening the ring box.
He laughed. “I didn’t even finish.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger, and I wrapped my arms around him. I imagined us growing old together.
I started planning the wedding I’d dreamed about since childhood.
We booked a beautiful church and created a guest list that quickly grew out of control. Nick was involved in every step.
Early in the planning process, we decided to split the costs evenly. Actually making that work, though, turned out to be complicated.
One night, after hours of sorting through quotes and invoices to divide expenses and determine who would sign each contract, I collapsed at the table and screamed into the pile of paperwork.
Nick picked up the stack of vendor packets and said, “Let me handle the contracts.”
I looked up. “You sure?”
