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Then we get into an argument about who is paying for the suit. After a few minutes, I relent to Griffin paying. His argument being that the discount he gets due to my close relationship with Ernesto is my contribution.
“You’re married.” Ernesto motions between us. “It comes from the same place, no?”
“He’s right.” Griffin smiles. “What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours.”
It’s funny for a second, until an alarm goes off in my brain, and I realize that I don’t know anything about marriage laws and how marrying Griffin in Vegas could affect my business. We didn’t discuss a prenup. We didn’t discuss anything.
As we walk out of the store, my mind is reeling. This could be worse than I thought. Everything I know about Griffin as a person tells me he’s not the kind of guy who would try to stake a claim on my business when we split, but I didn’t prepare for this at all. The interview with Kandi Kline means nothing if my business is in jeopardy.
“You really don’t think much of lawyers, do you?” he says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to get my bearings.
“My comment in there. About what’s yours is mine. I was joking. But the horror was written all over your face.”
“You saw that?” I swallow. What else has he observed? Are my furtive glances obvious? My covert ogling of him completely transparent? “I hadn’t even thought about what our marriage could mean legally for Emma Belle Bridal. If you were to—”
“I would never stake a claim on your business, Emma.” He says it sincerely, but there’s an edge to his voice. He’s definitely annoyed.
I think back to my talk with Jess this morning. Her mentioning that Griffin had declined the additional compensation she had offered him for his time here.
“We can have a postnuptial agreement drafted if it would make you feel better.” He takes my silence to mean I don’t know what it is, but I’m really going over the worst-case scenarios in my head. “It’s a marriage agreement covering all the aspects of a prenup, but after a couple is legally married. With our short marriage timeline, it’s not necessary, but with your business it’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, I know what it is. We should do that.”
“I’ll have it drafted and your lawyer can look it over. I’m sure you have one helping you with your business affairs.”
“Yes.” I nod, feeling better about the situation.
Griffin looks around. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving. There’s a popular bistro a few blocks this way.” I point in the direction of the restaurant.
“Sounds good.”
We start walking, but a few steps in, Griffin shifts around me. I’m about to ask what he’s doing, when it becomes clear that he wanted to walk on the street side. I glance at his profile as we walk, but then the sidewalk narrows and the crowds of pedestrians force us into single file. Griffin’s hand reaches back to grip mine, so he can keep me close in the crowd. I’m used to the city’s chaos, but what I’m not used to is a man being so protective of me.
He holds my hand until we arrive at the restaurant and separate to sit across from each other in the booth.
“Any allergies?” the waiter asks as we browse the menu.
“No,” I say, and Griffin shakes his head to confirm he’s good, too.
While the waiter rattles off the specials, I stare at the menu. It’s a bit overwhelming, so I gravitate toward my usual, a salad with grilled chicken and a glass of wine. Griffin orders a pastrami sandwich that sounds mouthwatering and a beer.
When the waiter leaves with our orders, Griffin takes a sip of his water.
“Are you changing your name?” he asks. “Hypothetically, would you?”
“I don’t know. Would you want me to? Hypothetically speaking?”
“It would be your decision. For business it might make sense to not change it or hyphenate. But it wouldn’t matter to me, as long as I could call you Mrs. Hart in private.” His words make me tremble. “Hypothetically speaking,” he adds to continue this game we’re playing.
We’re talking in hypotheticals, but that doesn’t prevent Griffin’s words from igniting a fire in my lower belly. I grab my water glass and chug, because dumping it over my head would be overly dramatic.
These are all discussions that a couple would typically have had long before they got married, but for us, it’s a crash course. But responses like that make me lose focus of what we’re doing here.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the questionnaire again, until I notice a blank section. The question pertains to past relationships. I know that Griffin prioritized raising Sophie in his twenties, but it seems impossible that he has nothing to report.
