Love Unrehearsed
Page 126
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“Stop!” he ordered, loud and firm. “I am not talking about this.” I don’t know why that frustrated me, but it did. “We need to,” I insisted.
“No, we don’t.” Ryan frowned at me, tugging my arm slightly. “You want to give me peace of mind, then stop talking about this shit right now.”
“We’re going to need to talk about it eventually. You know that as well as I do. There’s too much at stake . . .”
He glared down at me. “Let me ask you something. Did Dan and Jennifer Mitchell have a prenup?”
“Ryan, that’s—”
He raised his voice over mine. “Your parents have a prenup, Tar? Yes or no?”
“I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t, but still, that’s not the point.” He held up a halting hand. “You think my mom and dad in there have a fucking prenup?”
I just stared at him, avoiding having to answer.
“I can tell you they don’t,” he said. “And I sure as hell didn’t ask my lawyer to draft one up, either.” He started jabbing his finger on his touchscreen phone.
Ryan was breathing heavy while being placed on hold. “When he gets out of his meeting, you tell him I want to know who the hell told him to write a prenup on my behalf.” He hung up abruptly, without even saying goodbye.
Ryan stormed off toward the kitchen door and I had no choice but to follow.
“Ryan? What’s wrong? You look mad,” Ellen questioned when he used the kitchen sink.
“I’m not mad, Mom. I’m pissed.” Ellen quickly looked at me, trying to as-certain if I had caused his anger.
“What’s going on?” she continued to pry.
“You have a prenup with Dad?” he asked with a definite growl.
I saw the confusion blanket her face. “No.” Ryan glanced over his shoulder, casting me his see, I told ya look.
Ellen was smarter than I gave her credit for. She held up her hands, backing up and out of the conversation as if there were a ticking time bomb sitting on her kitchen floor.
“Ryan, things were different for them. Our parents didn’t have the amount of money that you do and—”
Even though his back was turned to me, the hand that shot out, slicing the air in my direction, was a definite cease-and-desist order. I stood there in silence, watching him hunch, his arms pressing into the stainless steel rim of the sink as if he were pressing his emotions back together.
“Time and time again, we keep coming back to the same spot,” he muttered at the sink. “I know there are no guarantees”—he turned to face me—“but the reason why neither of our parents had a prenuptial agreement was because they didn’t start out in their marriage by preparing for it to end.” I pulled a chair out at the large oval dining table, feeling the need to anchor myself. He said the words that were in the back of my mind. “I know.”
“You want us to start out that way? You want some paper that says if I fuck around or if I don’t sit down and talk shit out and work through our problems that you’d get a few million tossed at you?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. But apparently your people think differently.” Ryan’s lips squashed together in frustrated anger. He pushed his hair back, scratching his head, venting his anger in an audible huff. I knew that one wasn’t because of me.
“I’d never take from you regardless.” His shoulders dropped. “That’s why I want to give you everything.” My breath hitched. “I already have the part that I want. Love is priceless.” He came over to the table, pulled out the chair next to me, and sat down, our knees touching.
“You have a lot of other stakeholders concerned about your bottom line, Ryan. Even agreements for our wedding photos and stuff, like you said. All of those things; it all has to be legal.”
Ryan took my hand in his. “You need to realize that I’d cut them all loose before I’d risk losing you.”
I leaned into the other hand cupping my cheek. “I want you to feel safe with me forever, even if that means signing something to give you that.”
“Tar, I know you’re not a taker. You’re the most giving person I’ve ever known.” His frown softened. “I do not want that kind of paper looming between us.”
“Escape clause,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Escape clause. It outlines how everything gets divvied up in the event of a divorce. Did you know that Marie and Gary are fighting over who gets to keep the TVs and dishes?”
“No, we don’t.” Ryan frowned at me, tugging my arm slightly. “You want to give me peace of mind, then stop talking about this shit right now.”
“We’re going to need to talk about it eventually. You know that as well as I do. There’s too much at stake . . .”
He glared down at me. “Let me ask you something. Did Dan and Jennifer Mitchell have a prenup?”
“Ryan, that’s—”
He raised his voice over mine. “Your parents have a prenup, Tar? Yes or no?”
“I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t, but still, that’s not the point.” He held up a halting hand. “You think my mom and dad in there have a fucking prenup?”
I just stared at him, avoiding having to answer.
“I can tell you they don’t,” he said. “And I sure as hell didn’t ask my lawyer to draft one up, either.” He started jabbing his finger on his touchscreen phone.
Ryan was breathing heavy while being placed on hold. “When he gets out of his meeting, you tell him I want to know who the hell told him to write a prenup on my behalf.” He hung up abruptly, without even saying goodbye.
Ryan stormed off toward the kitchen door and I had no choice but to follow.
“Ryan? What’s wrong? You look mad,” Ellen questioned when he used the kitchen sink.
“I’m not mad, Mom. I’m pissed.” Ellen quickly looked at me, trying to as-certain if I had caused his anger.
“What’s going on?” she continued to pry.
“You have a prenup with Dad?” he asked with a definite growl.
I saw the confusion blanket her face. “No.” Ryan glanced over his shoulder, casting me his see, I told ya look.
Ellen was smarter than I gave her credit for. She held up her hands, backing up and out of the conversation as if there were a ticking time bomb sitting on her kitchen floor.
“Ryan, things were different for them. Our parents didn’t have the amount of money that you do and—”
Even though his back was turned to me, the hand that shot out, slicing the air in my direction, was a definite cease-and-desist order. I stood there in silence, watching him hunch, his arms pressing into the stainless steel rim of the sink as if he were pressing his emotions back together.
“Time and time again, we keep coming back to the same spot,” he muttered at the sink. “I know there are no guarantees”—he turned to face me—“but the reason why neither of our parents had a prenuptial agreement was because they didn’t start out in their marriage by preparing for it to end.” I pulled a chair out at the large oval dining table, feeling the need to anchor myself. He said the words that were in the back of my mind. “I know.”
“You want us to start out that way? You want some paper that says if I fuck around or if I don’t sit down and talk shit out and work through our problems that you’d get a few million tossed at you?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. But apparently your people think differently.” Ryan’s lips squashed together in frustrated anger. He pushed his hair back, scratching his head, venting his anger in an audible huff. I knew that one wasn’t because of me.
“I’d never take from you regardless.” His shoulders dropped. “That’s why I want to give you everything.” My breath hitched. “I already have the part that I want. Love is priceless.” He came over to the table, pulled out the chair next to me, and sat down, our knees touching.
“You have a lot of other stakeholders concerned about your bottom line, Ryan. Even agreements for our wedding photos and stuff, like you said. All of those things; it all has to be legal.”
Ryan took my hand in his. “You need to realize that I’d cut them all loose before I’d risk losing you.”
I leaned into the other hand cupping my cheek. “I want you to feel safe with me forever, even if that means signing something to give you that.”
“Tar, I know you’re not a taker. You’re the most giving person I’ve ever known.” His frown softened. “I do not want that kind of paper looming between us.”
“Escape clause,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Escape clause. It outlines how everything gets divvied up in the event of a divorce. Did you know that Marie and Gary are fighting over who gets to keep the TVs and dishes?”
