they were both beautiful homes and probably were a good investment that they could always sell. But he was forcing her hand. And living in either of them would be a much grander lifestyle than the one she wanted, even as a married woman.
After several sleepless nights, while they barely spoke to each other, she decided to tell him to look for something smaller that would be easier to manage. She would have preferred to stay where they were for another year or two. She was waiting at the breakfast table to tell him, after another sleepless night, and he looked so miserable when he sat down that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t going to buy either house. It was the first major financial decision she’d ever had to face, and didn’t feel equal to it. They’d been married for less than two months, and he expected her to spend a fortune so they could show off to their friends.
“Coco,” he said, looking exhausted, “I’m not asking you to throw money away, or to give it to me. Both of these houses are excellent investments, and the house will be in your name,” he reminded her. She had never bought a house before and it scared her, especially with so much pressure from him.
“I don’t even know how to run a house that size. Or if I want to live here. I came here for a few months,” she said, feeling suffocated and panicked.
“And now you’re married to an Englishman, and you do live here. I can run the house for you. If there’s one thing I know, it’s big houses,” he said confidently. “The house in Sussex was ten times that size.” And now his brother had it. Nigel was trying to re-create what he had lost. It was a fresh insight into him. And he expected her to do it for him. Coco was beginning to understand that now. It was a very tall order, and a lot for him to expect of her.
“I don’t feel ready for a big house like that,” she said with tears in her eyes, and he smiled at her.
“I’ll do everything for it. We both want to have a beautiful life together. A house like that is part of it.” She was in over her head. She suddenly knew that she had run out of the energy to do battle with him. She had the money, and he had the endurance and determination to fight her on it forever until he got what he wanted. He wanted one of those two houses, or one like them, and nothing was going to stop him. She felt her resolve melting. He couldn’t force her to do it, but in a way he had. He was stronger than she was, and bigger, and older, and wanted a big house and a big life desperately. Far more than she did. It was part of his identity, the one he wanted, at her expense.
“All right,” she said with a long, tired sigh. She told him which one she preferred, the one without the ballroom, and he conceded, as though making a sacrifice for her.
“I’ll call the estate agent. Coco, you won’t regret it. You’ll thank me one day, when the house is full of our children, and we’re giving the most spectacular parties in London.” She didn’t want parties or children at the moment, so it didn’t sound like good news to her, and it was a huge amount of money, which he didn’t mind at all.
They signed the papers a week later, which gave her plenty of time for buyer’s remorse, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. She felt pushed to the wall. They were going to take possession of the house sixty days later in May. In April, he gave her a list of all the things he wanted to do in the house, built-ins and marble fixtures, chandeliers, and changes he wanted to make. He had been interviewing contractors. She almost choked when she saw their estimates.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ll oversee everything. They say they can have us in by August.”
“Why don’t we just move straight to the poorhouse? Do we need to have all that done to it? The house looked perfect to me.”
“Trust me. It will be even better when we’re finished. You’re going to love it.” She didn’t love it. She loved him. And then