“Please,” I whispered when he told me what I already feared. “Most of my first wages went toward hospital bills and overdue payments. I can give you part of the rent now and the rest next month.”
“You said that before.”
“I have a steady job now. I just need a little time.”
My throat tightened.
“I have a daughter. Her father just died. Please, have mercy.”
The landlord sighed.
“You have one month to move out. After that, I’m changing the locks.”
The call ended.
I pressed the phone against my chest and tried to steady my breathing.
After everything I had survived, Emily and I were about to lose our home.
Then a floorboard creaked behind me.
I turned.
No one was there.
I assumed I had imagined it and went back to work.
A few weeks later, I arrived at Richard’s estate and stopped in the entrance hall.
Fresh flowers filled tall vases. Candles flickered across the room, and soft music drifted through the house.
Richard normally warned me before inviting guests because those days required more preparation.
This time, he hadn’t mentioned anything.
I found him in his study wearing a dark suit.
For once, he looked nervous.
“Are you expecting guests?”
“There you are,” he said. “Please, Nora. Sit down.”
“Not exactly.”
I sat, confused.
Richard took a deep breath.
Then he slowly lowered himself onto one knee.
“Honey, I know I’m much older than you, and maybe you’ll laugh in my face, but I’ll be honest. I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t want to waste time pretending otherwise, so I want to ask you to marry me.”
I stared at him.
Of all the possibilities that had crossed my mind, this wasn’t one of them.
“I—I need to think about it.”
“Of course.” His smile faltered. “Take all the time you need.”
Richard was seventy-two.
I was thirty-five.
But as I thought about Emily and our situation, the decision became difficult to ignore.
Tom was gone.
