She sighed. “Honestly, I want to get married in New York, but you have so many friends—”
“Then New York it is. My friends can travel.”
She smiled a half smile. “Thank you. London is fine.”
“No. New York. We can hire anywhere you like—the Plaza? The Ritz?” I could tell by her expression that she had a place in mind.
“Well, if you’re sure . . . What about the library?” she asked. “It’s really pretty there. I snuck in to a ceremony once when I should have been studying.”
“Done.”
“Really?”
I shook my head. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
She grinned and her shoulders lowered as if I’d just taken some of the burden from her. It was the best feeling in the world.
“That’s done,” I said. “What’s next?”
“This,” she said, holding up an envelope. “From my father. He’s set up a trust fund for me. He says each of his daughters has one.”
I’d met Sofia’s father a couple of times. Despite his wealth, he was a humble man, well aware of his failings where Sofia was concerned. As far as I could see, he did nothing but try to make up for them. Not just with money, but with the way he made time and space for her in his life.
“That’s nice,” I said, cautiously. Sofia’s emotions around her father were ever-changing. It was my job to just support her, however she felt.
“It is nice. It’s also weird. I didn’t exactly grow up as a trust fund kid.”
“I get that it’s weird. And we don’t need it. Maybe you could transfer it into our daughter’s name?”
Sofia rounded her hand over her gradually expanding stomach. “Oh she gets one too.” She shook her head like it was the most ridiculous thing. “I told my mom.” She winced. Sofia had come clean about the reason she’d come to London—and the fact she’d met her father, his wife, and their two kids—when we visited her mother to tell her about our engagement. There had been tears and fights and more tears and hugs and eventually, everything had settled down. Sofia’s mom was sorry she’d cut Des out of their lives. Sofia was sorry for lying about why she’d come to England. Now mother and daughter were as close as ever. “It was fine. I think it would be less fine if I hadn’t met you. I guess because his money will make less of a difference.”
“That makes sense. Has she agreed to move to London?”
“Not permanently. Not yet. But she knows that wherever we move, there will be a place for her. Speaking of which, that brings me to the next thing.” She pulled out her phone and brought up a picture of a house. “It’s thirty minutes to the center of town. And it’s got a garden and a pool and even an annex where my mom could stay.”
“Okay. Looks nice.”
“Great.” She jumped to her feet. “Let’s go see it. We can time the journey. It’s in Kenwood.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes, I’ve cleared your diary and we’re due in forty minutes.”
My soon-to-be wife was always a step ahead of me. Long may it continue.
* * *