not exactly a secret.” What he said shocked her profoundly. He’d done research. She didn’t say it, but she was shaken. Sam had been right.
She called Ed that afternoon, when she knew he’d be in the office, and he took her call immediately. She told him about the houses, and the asking prices, and asked him if she could afford it. He still had not replaced himself as her trustee, and she had been too busy to pursue it, and forgot about it. She had bigger things to deal with.
“Yes, you can afford it, but I’m not sure that’s the point here. Do you want a house that big in London? Are you planning to stay there? Are you starting a family right away? That’s a lot of house you’re looking at, in both cases.” She had told him the square footage and the price.
“We’re not starting a family, for sure. And I don’t know if we’re going to stay here. My husband wants to. We haven’t decided yet. He likes being prominent on the London social scene. But I want to spend time in New York too.”
“Those are still two very large houses. To answer your question, yes, you can afford either one of them. But do you want to?” She didn’t. But her husband did, desperately. It was their first big difference of opinion, and a very expensive one.
“Thank you,” she said crisply, and pursued the conversation with Nigel that night when he got home.
“Of course we want to stay here,” he said immediately. “Where else would we want to live?” He acted as though the question was ridiculous.
“I’m American. Until now I’ve lived in New York. I still have two homes there, my parents’ apartment and a large beach house, and all I have here is a temporary job. Since you’re married to me, you could get a green card, and work in New York, if you wanted to.” She realized they should have discussed it before, and hadn’t.
“I don’t want to live in New York.” He looked shocked. “Why don’t you sell your parents’ apartment and the beach house to defray the cost of a house here? We’re never going to live there.” He dismissed the possibility summarily, and she felt a sudden pang of homesickness for New York. It seemed reasonable to him to live in London, but not entirely to her. She had roots in New York, memories, and homes. But her husband was English. She realized that they should have discussed it thoroughly before they married.
“I don’t want to sell my property there. I love my parents’ apartment. It’s been my home for my whole life. And the beach house too.”
“Are you telling me you can’t afford a house here? Or don’t want to?” He looked devastated and like he didn’t believe her.
“No, but I’m telling you it’s a lot of money. We don’t need a house that big. We could buy something smaller, and buy a bigger house when we have children. And I want to spend time in New York too.”
“How long do you want to wait for kids?” he asked her, worried.
“Several years. I told you that before. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m not ready for babies. I haven’t even finished college.”
“Are you ready to be married, Coco?” he asked accusingly, as though she was letting him down. It was another conversation they should have had before, but they hadn’t. “You’re sounding like a child.” He sounded disapproving as he accused her of it.
“I’m ready to be married because I love you, but I didn’t realize you wanted to buy a house, and certainly not one that size. I need to think about it.” She did not want to be pushed into it, or bullied. But she didn’t want him to be unhappy either. He was her family now.
“You’d better think fast, or someone will snap those houses up. I’ve been looking for two months, and they’re by far the best I’ve seen,” he said coldly, as though she was cheating him of his due. There was suddenly an atmosphere of tension around them in the tiny mews house, and it went on for days. He didn’t argue with her about it. He didn’t speak to her at all. They stopped making love. She had the sense that it was going to be a cold war until she gave in. The only thing that gave her some comfort was knowing that even if she bought one of them,