Chapter 11 - THE WIFE WHO CHOSE HER OWN FUTURE
Z
By spring, my career had changed.
I had returned to full-time consulting, working on corporate governance and regulatory compliance.
My employer offered me a promotion.
Senior director.
A significant raise.
And the chance to lead a new team specializing in independent investigations.
I stared at the letter.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then I called Graham.
“Are you sitting down?”
He laughed.
“Should I be worried?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“I got promoted.”
There was silence.
Then he said, “Audrey.”
His voice changed.
“That's wonderful.”
I smiled through sudden tears.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
I laughed.
“I'm going to be working longer hours.”
“Then we'll adjust.”
“I might have to travel.”
“Then we'll plan around it.”
“I won't always be available for your family events.”
His answer came immediately.
“Good.”
I blinked.
“Good?”
He laughed.
“Perhaps I can finally use my wife as an excuse not to attend every dreadful charity luncheon.”
I burst out laughing.
That evening, Graham brought home flowers.
Not roses.
Yellow tulips.
My favorites.
I looked at him suspiciously.
“How did you know?”
“You mentioned them in November.”
I stared.
He smiled.
“I listen occasionally.”
I laughed.
“Dangerous habit.”
“I'm developing several.”
But our marriage was not suddenly perfect.
We still argued.
Graham was accustomed to making decisions quickly, sometimes without consulting anyone.
I was accustomed to handling problems alone.
Those habits collided.
One evening, I learned that Graham had arranged for a private car to drive me to work without asking.
I confronted him.
“I have a car.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you arrange another?”
“Because you were working late and I was worried.”
I folded my arms.
“Then talk to me.”
His expression tightened.
“Audrey—”
“No. You don't get to solve every concern by hiring someone.”
He stared.
Then looked down.
“You're right.”
I blinked.
“That was quick.”
He smiled faintly.
“I'm trying to save us both an hour.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then grew serious.
“I appreciate that you worry. But I need you to trust me to make decisions about my own life.”
He nodded.
“I do.”
“Then show me.”
He reached for my hand.
“I will.”
That summer, we took our first vacation.
Scotland.
My choice.
Graham had never visited Edinburgh without attending a business meeting.
This time, we brought no negotiating team.
No family council.
No appointments with shipping executives.
Just two suitcases and a list of museums, castles, and restaurants.
We walked through old streets.
Visited bookshops.
Ate terrible airport sandwiches.
And argued about whether one particular castle was haunted.
Graham insisted ghosts were nonsense.
I told him the basement corridor had absolutely been haunted.
He laughed.
Then bought me a book about Scottish folklore.
One evening, we stood on a hill overlooking Edinburgh.
The sky glowed orange.
Graham took my hand.
“Audrey?”
“Yes?”
“Are you happy?”
The question surprised me.
I considered.
“Not every minute.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
“But yes.”
His expression softened.
“Good.”
I looked at him.
“Are you?”
For a moment, he was quiet.
Then he said, “I'm learning how.”
I squeezed his hand.
“That's enough for today.”
He smiled.
And kissed me beneath a sky full of fading sunlight.
When we returned to Boston, another letter waited.
It came from the attorney administering Graham's grandfather's trust.
The eighteen-month marriage condition had reached its final review stage.
Under the original arrangement, we were now approaching the period when the family expected us to separate.
I stared at the letter.
Then looked toward Graham.
He was reading beside the fireplace.
For a moment, I remembered our wedding night.
You mean nothing to me, Audrey.
I closed my eyes.
Eighteen months.
May you like
That had been the promised duration of our marriage.
And suddenly, I realized I no longer wanted to count the days until it ended.
