Free Save Me by Eliza Freed

intentional.
    “I have a lot of money. Well, now we have a lot of money,” I blurt out.
    “What?” Noble is confused. Not confused enough to stop eating his bagel, but confused.
    “When my parents died in the car accident, there was insurance…and inheritance…and a liability settlement,” I say, listing the horrible papers that had to be signed in the business of my parents’ demise.
    “I know. That’s how you and Julia bought the place in New York City.”
    “Yes, but there’s still some left.”
    Noble continues eating, thinking this whole conversation is trivial. “How much could be left? Your place in Manhattan is great.”
    “Almost five million dollars.”
    Noble freezes midbite. He lowers his bagel to the plate resting on the bed. “What?” Shock has erased his humor.
    “ We have five million dollars. Not all liquid. The majority is invested, but it’s ours.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asks, completely confused. “Your parents have been gone for four years.”
    “I know. I just don’t talk about it. The money isn’t a happy thing for me. It’s blood money. I wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for some company’s attempt to cover a scandal. Their death, silenced by a check.”
    “Why didn’t you at least tell me after we were engaged?” Noble’s beginning to realize he’s married to an idiot.
    “I almost did, but I was afraid you’d be uncomfortable with it.”
    “Shows what you know. I always wanted a rich wife,” he says, and runs his thumb down the side of my face. “I would have insisted on a prenup. That’s your money, from your parents.”
    “I think that’s why I didn’t tell you. There is some happiness attached to it, if it belongs to you, too. But that can be said for me or the money,” I say, and kiss Noble’s lips. He makes me whole.
    “So now we have a lot of land and a lot of money. We need to see an attorney.”
    “Among other things.” I move his plate to the side as I climb on top of Noble Sinclair.
    *  *  *
    The rain finally stops and we drive home in my Volvo holding hands. BJ is curled up on my lap, his head resting on the console, and my dress is hanging in the back. We did it. We really did it.
    I’m married.
    When Noble pulls into his—our—driveway, it’s different. This is where I live now and even though I’ve spent hundreds of nights here, something is very different now that I have this thin platinum band around my finger. This will forever be my home. Noble squeezes my hand as he parks the car. Oh my God, this is where my car gets parked now. I think it’s going to take some getting used to.
    “Leave the stuff in the car. I’ll come out and get it in a little while,” Noble says, and I climb out without asking any questions. I grab the card I wrote him this morning out of my bag and carry it silently to the door.
    Noble stops at the entry, grinning from ear to ear.
    “What?” I ask. Not sure what the problem is. Noble lifts me up into his arms, and instinctively I wrap my arms around his neck.
    “You can’t walk over the threshold.”
    “Oh right, I can’t walk over the threshold, but you can see me the morning of the wedding. Keeping up with which superstitions you take seriously is going to be difficult,” I say, and lean my head on his shoulder. “I could get used to you carrying me around, though.”
    Noble carries me into the house and once BJ follows us in, he kicks the door closed. Instead of putting me down, he carries me straight to our newly painted bedroom and places me on the floor as the painting I hung right before we left for the wedding catches his eye. Noble walks to the painting and studies it.
    “It’s the farm?” he asks as he examines the house at the end of the waves of fields. It’s the house we’re standing in now.
    “It’s our home. Do you like it?”
    “I love it,” he says, and turns to me. “Almost as much as I love you.” Noble takes my face in his hands and kisses