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I scooped her up and loved her all night.
We had one buffer day before we’d go back to work. We spent it eating well, plotting and planning our next week at work, making love.
Never more than a touch away from each other.
We didn’t go out or get dressed all day.
Samantha
Before we got married, Leighton and I had plenty of thoseserioustypes of talks.
After all, the baker on the block doesn't marry her local neighborhood billionaire on a whim. Anyone reading the tabloids knewthat.
I initiated the conversations, but Leighton always jumped right in. I always got an answer to any question I asked him.
“No secrets from you! Not ever!”
Since he admitted he wasn’t a financial whizz kid, he started with the big picture. He told me his estimated net worth from last year-end’s calculations (“But it’sreallythe family’s!”).
After he picked me up off the floor (just kidding, but it was a very, very near thing), I had Leighton explain the details. And itwasn’tthe family’s. It was all his doing. By luck. By focused, creative work. And through sound, savvy business strategies. All his.
He took me through his personal financial affairs, the organization of his business affairs, what he expected for his future, and how my financial future now looked as his wife.
Turnabout was fair play.Thatdidn't take long! I didn’t have ownership in our townhouse; Jerry and Davie owned it. I didn’t have a partnership in Davie’s business (nor did Jerry, in fact). I never learned how to drive and never owned a vehicle. My fledgling bakery business was my only asset.
I wrapped it up for Leighton, “Otherwise, the most expensive things I own? A three-year-old laptop and an even older cell phone. A pair of really dusty rollerblades. Oh, and five outrageously-priced bikinis, gently used.”
“Don’t forget your two pairs of Frye boots,” he added with a grin and a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I got you, darling. Forever.”
After getting married, my wonderful husband carried on with his adult kickboxing lessons. I didn't get between him and his lessons, but I did go back to volunteer teaching with the seven-year-olds.
I started noticing changes happening in the Community Center.
I commented to Leighton, “I have been coming to this center for twenty years. I think this is the first time I've seen any remodeling or any kind of renovation. They always seemed to struggle with basic maintenance.”
Leighton’s eyes just twinkled in response.
“Oh, ho! Mister, you can't fool me! Do you …”
“Maybe …”
I looked at him. “You do! Tell me you …”
“Yes, I did.”
“Oh, boy. I want…”
“I know you do. All in good time, wife of mine.”
I made sure ‘in good time’ was that afternoon as we ate our evening meal.
Leighton explained himself. “You know how my family has purchased the three buildings on this block? It's not really that we wanted to become landlords, but we collectively agreed long ago.”
“Agreed what, baby?”
“To make life better around us to the degree we could. And buying and fixing up rundown buildings seemed the straightforward way to do that.”
“Okay, but you can’t buy the Center. Or …?”
