Chapter 3
Chapter three
Natalie
"You’re not actually considering this."
Robin is halfway through pouring wine when she says it, like we’re picking up mid-argument instead of at the beginning of one.
"Considering what?" Lila asks, already suspicious.
I take the glass from Robin before she can change her mind.
"The fact that Gabriel showed up at my door two nights ago," I say evenly, "and asked me to marry him."
Silence.
Not dramatic silence.
Real silence.
The kind where four intelligent women recalibrate their understanding of reality at the same time.
Daisy sneezes.
"You’re joking," Lila says first.
No one laughs.
"Natalie," Mia says sharply, sitting up straighter. "What happened?"
Robin sets her glass down untouched. "Start at the part where this makes sense."
I exhale. "It’s the custody situation. His ex is circling, and the timing isn’t great."
All four of them go still again.
Annabelle nods slowly. "And marriage looks stable."
"That’s the argument," I say.
"That's a legal contract," Robin says, already slipping into cross-examination mode, as if I might have confused it with a dinner reservation.
"I’m aware."
Annabelle tilts her head. "From a purely strategic standpoint… it’s not irrational."
"Don’t validate this," Robin snaps.
Mia leans forward, eyes soft but sharp. "How did he ask?"
I blink. "That’s your first question?"
"Yes," she says simply.
"He showed up at my door looking like he hadn’t slept and said, ‘I need you to marry me.’"
Lila clutches her chest. "That’s so unhinged it’s almost romantic."
"It’s not romantic," I say quickly. "It’s about the custody mess. Marriage looks stable on paper."
"Marriage helps," Robin repeats flatly. "But it's not a PR bandage."
"It’s not PR," Annabelle says. "It’s legal narrative. Married, two-parent household, no childcare gaps. Judges like consistency."
"Judges also like sanity," Robin says.
Mia looks at me carefully. "Maddie would be thrilled."
I don’t argue.
Because she’s right.
Mia’s seen it. The way Maddie gravitates toward me at team dinners and charity events. The way she drags me onto the couch in the family lounge at the arena and insists I sit beside her and her dad like it’s already assigned seating.
"She already adores you," Mia adds gently.
"She adores anyone who reads Charlotte’s Web in funny voices," I say.
"You do the pig voice," Mia says.
"I commit to the bit."
"She talks about you constantly," Mia says. "Just last week, she made you sit next to her and wouldn’t let anyone else braid her hair."
That hits lower than I expect.
Robin folds her arms. "We're not glossing over the part where this is permanent. You don’t get married and then quietly dissolve it when the legal threat passes."
She leans forward, and continues. "This is your life, Natalie. You don’t uproot it because a man is panicking. You don’t trade autonomy for urgency."
"I know that," I say.
"Do you?" she presses.
I look at the coffee table instead of at her.
This is the part that matters.
"It wouldn’t be fake," I say. "If I did it, it would be real."
Lila’s eyes light up. "See? That’s hot."
"Stop saying hot," Robin says.
"It is," Lila insists. "It’s commitment under pressure. Very Jane Austen with better abs."
"He's not Mr. Darcy," I say.
"He's six-foot-something and broods like he’s hiding a scandal in his waistcoat," Lila says. "He qualifies."
Annabelle huffs a quiet laugh.
Mia smirks. "If by ‘scandal in his waistcoat’ you mean something… structurally impressive, that's statistically relevant."
Lila snorts. "Now that’s a data point I can get behind."
"Lila," I say dryly, "you are one glass away from needing supervision."
Lila lifts her glass. "Not wrong."
Annabelle studies me. "Do you think he’d treat it like temporary?"
I hesitate for half a second. "No," I say, more certain than I expected to be.
That’s the terrifying part.
Gabriel would never treat it lightly.
"If he says vows, he means them," I say. "Especially with Maddie watching. There’s no version of this where it’s temporary."
Robin softens a fraction. "Then the real question is whether you’re ready to say vows and mean them."
I reach for my wine.
"I built my life exactly the way I wanted it," I say. "I have my apartment. My business. My schedule. I answer to no one."
"Marriage doesn’t have to erase all of that," Mia says.
"It changes it. A lot," I say.
"Everything changes," Annabelle says calmly. "That’s not inherently negative."
"You’re not helping," I mutter.
Daisy climbs into my lap like she’s clocked the tension and decided to intervene. Her head presses under my chin. Warm. Certain.
"You’re not afraid of paperwork," Mia says quietly. "I think you’re afraid of wanting it to be real."
I exhale.
Robin nods once. "There it is."
"If custody wasn’t happening," Annabelle says, measured and direct, "would you still want him?"
Lila gasps. "That’s a loaded question."
"Answer it," Robin says.
The room waits.
I stare at Daisy’s ears.
"That’s not the point," I say.
Mia’s expression shifts. "Which means it is."
I hate that.
Because I don’t have a clean answer.
Would I want him without the chaos?
Yes.
And that’s the problem.
"I don’t want to marry someone because of a threat," I say finally. "I want to be chosen because he wants me."
Mia’s voice is gentle but firm. "He did choose you."
"He chose the most stable option," I counter.
"He could have hired a PR fiancée," Annabelle says. "He didn’t."
"He could have dated publicly for optics," Lila adds. "He didn’t."
"He asked you," Mia says.
The words settle.
Lila leans forward, elbows on knees. "Okay, but here’s the real question. When he looks at you, does it feel strategic?"
I don’t answer.
Because I remember the balcony from two years ago.
The almost.
The way he stepped back like he didn’t trust himself.
"No," I admit.
Robin exhales through her nose. "Then this isn’t fake. It’s fast. Too fast if you ask me."
Annabelle nods. "Fast doesn’t mean reckless. It means accelerated."
"You’re rebranding this," I say.
"I’m reframing it," she corrects.
Daisy abruptly stands and knocks Lila’s glass sideways with her tail.
"Oh my God—" Lila yelps.
Wine splashes across a takeout container.
We all scramble.
"This is symbolic," Lila declares as I blot at the spill with napkins. "The universe is saying leap."
"The universe is saying control your dog," Robin says.
We laugh.
It breaks the immediate anxiety I’m feeling.
When the chaos settles, Mia looks at me again.
"Have you talked to him since?"
"No."
"You need to," Robin says immediately. "Calmly. Without adrenaline."
"And you need clarity," Annabelle adds. "What does married look like? Living arrangements? Parenting roles? Public narrative?"
"And timelines," Lila says instead. "Are we talking courthouse this week or six-month engagement?"
"Logistics first," Robin says. "Finances. Living arrangements. A prenup."
"And whether you actually want to wake up next to him every day," Lila adds, less flippant now.
I drag my fingers back through my hair.
"I told him my conditions," I say. "Apartment stays mine. Career stays mine. I’m not replacing a nanny. We hire help together. Maddie comes first."
"I went to one of her practices last month," I continue, the memory rising before I can stop it. "She missed a shot. Tried not to cry about it."
They’re all watching me now.
"He didn’t tell her to shake it off," I continue. "He got down on one knee right there on the sideline and told her, ‘You’re allowed to be frustrated before you’re brave.’ And then he just… stayed there. Until she nodded. Until she tried again."
I look at my glass instead of at them. "That’s the man asking me."
No one jokes this time.
"What about Mason?" Mia asks carefully. "What’s he going to think?"
"We’ll tell Mason together," I say. "He’ll probably flip out. But he’ll listen. Eventually. Hopefully."
"And feelings?" Mia asks.
I hesitate.
"We don’t complicate it," I say.
Robin stares at me. "You already have."
She’s right.
Because nothing about this feels neutral.
It feels like standing on the edge of something that’s been circling me for years.
"If you do this," Mia says softly, "do it because you want to build something. Not because you’re rescuing him."
I nod.
"And if you don’t," Robin says, "don’t let guilt decide for you."
"Either way," Annabelle adds, "be intentional."
Lila raises her glass. "To intentional unknowns."
We clink.
Daisy barks once, approving.
***
Hours later, when the containers are stacked and the wine bottle is empty and my friends have filtered out with promises to text in the morning, the apartment goes quiet.
Too quiet.
Daisy curls at my feet.
I stare at the reflection of the city lights in my window.
Married.
Not pretend.
Not temporary.
Married.
I picture Maddie’s face if we told her.
The way her eyes would widen.
The way she’d ask if Daisy gets a bed.
The way she’d probably draw us as stick figures holding hands with uneven hearts overhead.
And then I picture Gabriel.
The steadiness in his voice when he said please.
He wasn’t manipulating.
He wasn’t performing.
He was choosing.
The question is whether I’m brave enough to choose back.
Daisy sighs.
"This is insane," I whisper.
She thumps her tail once.
I reach for my phone.
Open his name.
Close it.
Open it again.
My fingers hover.
If I do this, it’s not temporary.
It’s not optics.
It’s not strategy.
It’s a vow.
I inhale.
Then I type.
We need to talk.