Rick glanced up from his soup. “Is there a reason you two are plotting over the cutlery?”
Violet smiled sweetly. “Layla thinks your silver is judging her.”
Rick looked directly at me. “They’re judging everyone, doll. Don’t take it personally.”
I laughed.
And that was the beginning.For illustrative purposes only
After that, Rick spoke to me often. He asked questions, remembered the answers, and noticed things about me—like how I always saw the price of something before I noticed its beauty.
“Because price decides what gets to stay beautiful,” I said once.
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.”
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