remembering something, asked me to stop by his
office that afternoon.
"Why?"
"I have something we should discuss." he said.
"Don't look so serious. It's routine. but I'd like to do it right and get it over with quickly. You'll see." He kissed me quickly before leaving. I stood there at the door thinking about it, and my anxiety mounted all day until it was finally time to go to his office. Maybe
it was something altogether different. I told myself. He made such a big show of greeting me in
front of his secretaries and assistants, I couldn't
imagine him bringing up anything that would put
tarnish on the brightness of our love. Then he closed
the door behind us in his office and sat me down at his
desk, where he had a small pile of papers set aside. "I would be one stupid lawyer if I hadn't done
this," he began. "Sort of like the shoemaker without
shoes."
"What is it. Thatcher?"
"Well, the legal term for it is a prenuptial
agreement, but this is nothing like those stiff. formal
contracts I prepare for some of my clients. This is just
what we need to be sensible, and nothing else." "Sensible?"
He sat back, pressing the tips of his fingers
against each other.
"I know I have lived the life of a bon vivant.
hedonistic and at times reckless. I have earned my
reputation here in Palm Beach. Some of it I can blame on my parents and my sister and their damn concern about the social register, but for most of it. I have only
myself to blame.
"However," he continued, sitting forward with
an intent, dramatic look on his face. "it's no secret that
after I met you. Willow. I was like someone who
finally took a good look in the mirror and realized
who he was and what he was and what he should be.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, with you I want