It is strange that Allen, who spends his days talking about money, would have such difficulty with this conversation. He’s put it off for several days now, until I simply had to put my foot down today. But then, it is harder when it is one’s own money, and harder still when hearts are involved.
“So is something on your mind?” Megan asked him this evening over dinner. She was smiling, because she knew very well he has been wrestling with something for a few days.
Allen hesitated, until I leaned as hard as I could on him. “Tell her,” I insisted. “If she does not like the idea, it will not be because she does not want to be with you.”
He cleared his throat and reached across the table to take her hands. “Well, I have an idea,” he said. “And you may not like it, but I just want you to think about it a minute before you shut me down.”
“Okay,” Megan said, a bit wary now.
He took a breath and glanced around—they were at her house, which despite the speed with which she found and purchased it, really is perfect for her. It is bright and roomy, with large windows and floors that creak and doors that stick, and she loves every inch of it.
“This is a three-bedroom, right?” he asked her.
She frowned, because he should have known the answer to that question. “Yes.”
He took another breath. “Well…what would you think of me turning one of those bedrooms into a studio?”
“Oh,” Megan said, blinking. “Of course you can. The one on the left of the stairs has better lighting—”
She didn’t quite understand, and I pointed this out to Allen. He held up a hand. “I should probably be clear,” he said, “that I’m trying to invite myself to move in with you.”
“Oh,” Megan said again, in a different tone of voice. She was beginning to smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be my idea?”
“Probably,” Allen admitted, “but see, it’s all part of the plan. Because if I move in here, I not only get the girl and the workspace—but then I can sell my house, and then I’ll have all this cash to throw around.” He squeezed her hands. “And where better to put it than into your dream?”
She was silent, stunned by the offer. Allen looked up at her face for the first time, and some of his fear began to ease away.
“You’ve put so much energy into my artwork, Megan,” he murmured. “You’ve been so supportive and—just my rock through all of this. And I haven’t returned the favor the way I should have. But now it’s your turn. You could start up your café, make it adorable. You would be amazing at it.”
Megan shook her head slowly, still astonished. “Allen, I could never—that’s so much money,” she whispered. “What if we crash and burn in a year? I couldn’t—”
“Hey, I’m a financial wizard, remember?” Allen said. “I’ll draw up a contract that will keep us both safe. Although I’ll probably weight it so far on your side that you could sell me to a zoo if we ended up broken up.” She laughed a little, and he grinned at her. “You deserve it, though.” He hesitated, and I leaned it again, and he coughed and said, “And honestly, I don’t see my future without you in it anymore.”
Now there were tears in Megan’s eyes. “Oh, Allen,” she whispered and came around the table to put her arms around his shoulders.
He kissed her cheek and pulled her closer. “So,” he said after a moment, “is that a yes?”
Wiping her eyes and straightening up, she went back to her seat and leaned forward. “All right, Mr. Gray,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Let’s talk terms.”
They wrote out the beginnings of a contract right then and there, writing on their napkins while dinner went cold. To me, it seemed like a different kind of promise, one that spoke of the bonds between them and how those bonds will be expressed in the years to come. And perhaps it was. After all, love is found not only in artwork and poetry, but also in structure and practical preparations for a future that will be shared. And I agree with Allen—I think there is little danger of a separation in the years to come.