Chapter 13 - THE FIRST TIME ETHAN ASKED NOAH FOR PERMISSION INSTEAD OF FORGIVENESS
Noah turned fifteen with Hannah and Ethan still dating.
Three years.
Slow enough that tabloids got bored.
Good.
Cole Hospitality had professional CEO now.
Ethan remained chairman and largest shareholder but worked reduced schedule.
Hannah’s Brooks Table had twenty-three employees.
She opened a small bakery café.
Named:
BENJAMIN?
Absolutely not.
Noah threatened legal action.
She named it Moon & Flour after crescent birthmark.
He approved reluctantly.
Margaret became regular customer and complained pastries were too expensive.
Hannah charged her extra for criticism.
Family.
Then Ethan decided he wanted marriage.
He did not propose.
First, he spoke to Hannah.
“I think I want to marry you.”
She laughed.
“That’s not proposal?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I want to know whether you want marriage at all.”
She thought.
“Maybe.”
Good.
Then:
“I don’t want you to ask Noah for permission.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
“But I want to talk to him about how he feels before anything changes.”
“That’s different.”
They agreed.
Ethan spoke to Noah alone.
Not:
Can I marry your mother?
No child should own parental romance.
Instead:
“Hannah and I are thinking about marriage someday.”
Noah stared at him.
“Someday?”
“Yes.”
“Like before college?”
“Probably.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You’re old.”
Ethan laughed.
Then Noah got serious.
“Would she move in?”
“Maybe.”
“Here?”
“Maybe not.”
That surprised.
The mansion was Ethan’s.
Hannah had her house.
They might sell both and choose together.
Healthy.
“Would Grandma live here?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Margaret, told later, was offended.
Then Noah asked:
“If you marry, does Mom Rebecca get less important?”
Ethan’s throat tightened.
“No.”
“How?”
“Because importance isn’t a pie.”
Noah smiled.
“Hannah taught you fractions?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.”
“Like Mom Rebecca?”
“No.”
Noah frowned.
Ethan explained:
“I loved Rebecca as Rebecca.”
Pause.
“I love Hannah as Hannah.”
“Which more?”
There.
Child test.
“I’m not measuring.”
“Good.”
Noah nodded.
Then:
“I’m okay.”
Not permission.
Information.
Good.
Then he asked:
“Can I be best man?”
Ethan laughed.
“If we get married.”
“I’m reserving.”
Later Ethan told Hannah.
She cried.
Then:
“Still not a proposal.”
“No.”
She kissed him.
That relationship had taken years to become safe enough for spontaneity.
Then Margaret.
She had repaired with Hannah enough to babysit? Noah fifteen no. They had dinners.
Margaret approached Hannah.
“If Ethan proposes, I have Rebecca’s ring.”
Hannah stopped.
“No.”
Margaret flinched.
Again.
Then laughed.
“Right. I should have learned.”
“Give it to Noah.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca’s ring belonged in his future if he wanted.
Ethan bought Hannah another ring later.
But first, Hannah made request.
“If we marry, prenup.”
“Yes.”
“Separate business assets.”
“Yes.”
“My house remains mine unless I choose otherwise.”
“Yes.”
“No Cole Foundation involvement in Brooks Table.”
“Yes.”
“No DNA jokes.”
He laughed.
“Absolutely.”
Then serious.
“If we ever disagree about Noah, we use therapist or court process before money or lawyers become threats.”
“Yes.”
“And if I say I need space, you do not investigate me.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
He deserved that condition.
Then Ethan added his own.
“If I become controlling because I’m afraid, tell me directly.”
Hannah shook head.
“No.”
He looked.
“Why?”
“Your self-control is not my job.”
There.
He nodded.
“Then I will keep therapist.”
“Good.”
Marriage cannot outsource regulation to spouse.
Then proposal.
Not mansion.
Not hotel.
Kitchen of Hannah’s house.
She was making soup.
Ethan waited until she turned off stove because boiling pot and surprise ring were bad combination.
“Hannah.”
“What?”
“Can I ask now?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
He knelt.
Not necessary but traditional.
“Hannah Brooks, will you marry me?”
She cried.
Then:
“Not because Noah wants it.”
“No.”
“Not because Rebecca would approve.”
“I hope she would, but no.”
“Not because you owe me.”
“God, no.”
“Then yes.”
They kissed.
Noah walked in thirty seconds later.
“Did I miss it?”
They stared.
He held phone.
“Grandma said come home now.”
Margaret.
Of course.
She had known because Ethan stupidly told her.
Noah saw ring.
“YES!”
He hugged them both.
Then suddenly cried.
Hard.
They stopped.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Teenagers.
Then:
“I miss Mom Rebecca.”
Hannah’s face softened.
“Me too, and I never met her.”
Noah hugged her harder.
That was the family.
Joy did not cancel grief.
Grief did not cancel joy.
At wedding a year later, Noah was best man.
Margaret sat front row.
Rebecca’s photograph was not placed like shrine, at Hannah’s request.
Instead, Noah wore Rebecca’s locket inside jacket.
Private.
He knew.
That was enough.
Hannah walked herself down aisle.
No one gave her away.
Ethan cried.
Vows:
He promised no grand claim of forever regardless of behavior.
He said:
“I promise to love you as a person whose choices remain yours.”
Hannah said:
“I promise to let love grow without making fear our decision-maker.”
Then:
“And I promise to never make mashed potatoes without enough butter.”
Noah applauded.
At reception, Margaret danced with Hannah.
Poorly.
Then whispered:
“Rebecca would like you.”
Hannah looked.
“Maybe.”
Margaret almost objected.
Then smiled.
“Maybe.”
Good.
May you like
No one spoke for dead woman with certainty anymore.
That was respect.
