Page 63 of Fathers of the Bride

“So, you do know I didn’t exactly mean it, right?” I asked Miles as we drove through Beverly Hills.

“Didn’t exactly mean what?”

“Yes. I didn’t exactly mean yes when Raj proposed.”

“Uh-huh. But why did you say yes?”

“I don’t think he reallywantsto marry me.”

“Then why did he ask you?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I’m going to have to ask him.”

It was actually the third time I’d been proposed to. Miles had proposed to me when we had our commitment ceremony, and then again when we got legally married. Both times he did it over a lovely dinner: once in a restaurant and once at home. I liked that better. The privacy.

What I didn’t much care for, now that I thought about it, was the fact that I’d never proposed to anyone. In private or in public. That seemed a bit unfair. I should have the opportunity to propose, shouldn’t I? Why was it never my turn to ask?

And then I pulled up into the driveway of our house on Finch Circle. I turned off the car and everything became very still. I looked at Miles and said, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

I reached out my hand for his. My heart was in my throat. I couldn’t believe that asking this man who’d I’d known for so long a simple question could make me so nervous.

“Do you think I could come inside?”

“No.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean, no.”

“But—”

“We should take this slow. I don’t want to bethatcouple, you know? The ones who breakup and then basically never stop sleeping together.”

“Oh. Well. Sure, I guess I don’t want to do that either.” A complete lie on every level.

“Great. So, we should say good night and see each other soon.”

He leaned over and kissed me. I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him across the rather large console. Unfortunately, he was still tangled in his safety belt, but we kept kissing. Miles’ hand hit the horn as he tried to keep his balance.

“Sorry,” he said.

I pulled him back into a kiss.

He pulled away panting.

“If this is goodbye, we should say it more often.”

27

Miles Kettering Lane

Waking up the next morning,I lay staring at the ceiling trying to figure out if sleeping with my husband meant I was a homewrecker. On the one hand, he was still, legally at least, my husband. And that made his boyfriend the homewrecker. Conversely, he was living with Raj, and had been for quite some time and was now engaged to him—that made me the homewrecker. Honestly, I couldn’t decide whether it was better to be the home-wrecker or the home-wreckee.

One thing the last few years had taught me, was that as important as a marriage license was—and itisimportant—a child can and should be far more binding. Even though our daughter was grown and about to be married she would always be a bond between us. We might dissolve our legal marriage at any point, but we will always be Kelly’s parents. And that was more important than anything.

Naturally, I had the urge to tell Andy that immediately, so I rolled over and poked him until he woke up.