I had just opened my mouth when her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen, stood, and disappeared into the study.
The door stayed cracked open.
Whatever she said, I couldn't quite make out.
Only the laughter came through, in soft little bursts.
Standing in the living room with her coat in my hands, I suddenly realized how familiar that laugh was.
Seven years ago, under the cherry blossoms, she had laughed exactly like that.
Back then she'd gripped my hand, her eyes rimmed red.
"Derek, wait for me."
"I don't want my family looking down on me. Wait until I've made something of myself, and I'll bring you back to the old house. I'll have Grandpa put the signet ring on your hand himself."
"The Henson heirloom ring only goes to the family's son-in-law."
Back then I thought waiting meant two people walking the same direction.
Only later did I understand. I was the one standing still, watching her walk farther and farther away.
I turned and went into the closet.
What I dragged out wasn't her carry-on.
It was my own suitcase.
Her bag, I could pack and close in ten minutes.
This one of mine took a full seven years to pack before I dared zip it shut.
The study door opened.
Molly's eyes swept over the empty carry-on, and her brow knit.
"You still haven't packed?"
Then she saw the suitcase at my side, and her voice dropped low.
"Derek, are you even a man? Sulking with me over a ring—is that really worth it?"
"At the birthday banquet today, who were you putting on that face for? Henry asked me the whole drive back whether he'd upset you somehow."
"Just now on the phone, he even offered on his own—" She softened her tone. "'Once Derek's married, I'll return the ring, in perfect condition.'"
I looked at her and asked, calmly.
"Then when are we getting married?"
She froze.
"Seven years ago you said, once you'd made something of yourself, once Grandpa handed over his ring, that would be the day you married me."
"Today, Grandpa handed over the ring."
"Molly. Has the day come?"
Her gaze flickered.
"Why are you circling back to this again? The company's filing any minute. Not one thing can go wrong during the IPO window. Holding a wedding at a moment like this, if the SEC starts digging..."
I cut her off.
"Then I won't hold up your filing."
"Molly, let's break up."
Then I pulled an invitation from the drawer and held it out to her.
"Three days from now."
"It's my wedding."
Molly held the invitation, turning it over, then over again.
The gilded double-happiness character caught the light.
She didn't open it.
After a few blank seconds, she looked at me and suddenly laughed.
"You even had the invitations printed?"
"Derek, this little act of yours can't have come cheap."
She tossed the invitation onto the table, her voice thick with scorn.
"Now I get it. Hand over the ring at the banquet by day, produce an invitation at home by night—one thing linked to the next, right?"
"Was this Grandpa's idea?"
"He hands over the ring, you pick up the scene. One plays the good guy, one plays the villain—the two of you scheming together, cornering me into declaring myself on the spot?"
"He's eighty years old, he's gone soft in the head. You're thirty-three. You're going to play senile right along with him?"
Looking at her mockery, my heart still went cold.
She'd sooner believe an eighty-year-old man had cunningly set a trap.
Than believe that someone had truly stopped waiting.
"The date was set by the elders of both families. October third."
I spoke calmly.
"My suit had its final fitting last week. The venue's booked too."
"Both families' elders." She bit down on the words and let out a cold laugh.
"See? What did I tell you."
"Grandpa's even lined up the actors for you."
