Page 61 of A Chance for Us
“It’s fine,” she says quickly.
It really is not fine, but I’m not going to argue.
“I’m glad.”
“How about we get changed and watch a movie?” she suggests.
I don’t really want to watch a movie, but it’s really the only option we have.
“Sounds good.”
We both head over to our bags, and she stops. “Wait!”
“What?”
“I almost forgot.”
Maren heads to the other side of the room and starts going through the stack of envelopes. She pulls one out. “This. It’s the one from my father, and he said to open it when we were alone.”
“We’re alone.”
She nods. “I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because I know my dad, and he’ll have gone overboard.”
“Whatever it is, he wanted you to have it.”
She sits on the couch, and I settle in next to her, taking her hand. “Us. He wanted me and my husband to have whatever it is.”
“Open it,” I encourage.
She pulls her hand away, carefully lifts the flap, and pulls out what looks like a document. I give her a second to read it, waiting for her to tell me what it is. But then her hand starts to tremble before a sob breaks free. I pull her to my chest. “Why are you crying?”
She hands me the paper, which turns out to be the deed to a lot of property in Virginia. Holy shit. He gave her land and a house.
“This . . . this w-was my m-mother’s. It’s her family’s land that I thought went to my uncle.”
I wipe her tears away. “Looks like it didn’t, and now it’s yours.”
“He kept it. All this time. He kept it, and I don’t know what to think.”
I’m not sure I understand why she’s so upset, but it’s clear this means a lot to her. “Tell me,” I encourage.
So, we sit in our wedding attire, and I listen to her tell me about her family’s farm in Virginia. It was where her mother grew up and where she dreamed of raising her kids. When she died, she didn’t have a will and the property went into probate, where her uncle argued it should be his. She thought he ended up with it because her father mentioned it and they stopped taking weekend trips out there.
“It’s here though. He had it all this time, and . . . now it’s mine.”
“Maybe he saved it so you could raise your family there if you wanted.”
Her head drops. “This is all too much.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me. I hold her, not caring about anything other than giving her what she needs. I hate this part of myself, the one that wants to save her, help her, be there when I know it’s all bullshit.
I am the friend, the guy who’s good at offering support but is never more.
I’ve been nothing more than that over and over. I’m the best man, but not the best man for her.
