That night, I put my notes in front of Ben.
“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. We don’t move until Olive finishes the school year. I finish every event I’ve booked. We budget for rebuilding my business, and I decide how that transition happens.”
The next morning, I went out alone.
“Agreed.”
“Your schedule stays what you negotiated.”
“Yes.”
“And if the hospital starts eating our family alive again, you don’t decide how to fix it alone.”
He met my eyes.
“I bring it to you first.”
“Exactly.”
“You don’t decide how to fix it alone.”
Then he said, “The start date can still move.”
I paused.
“You can delay it?”
“I can ask.”
“Then ask, Ben, please.”
For the first time since Oregon entered our marriage, Ben wasn’t presenting me with a finished plan.
“You can delay it?”
He was waiting for my part in it.
***
When we got home, I listened from the kitchen while Ben called Oregon and admitted he’d committed too quickly.
“I need to move the start date,” he said. “My daughter needs to finish the school year, and my wife has a business she can’t abandon on six weeks’ notice.”
I looked toward the doorway.
Read also
He was waiting for my part in it.
That was new.
My business had finally made it into his sentence.
When he hung up, I asked, “Well?”
“They need to discuss it.”
“And if they say no?”
Ben looked at me.
“Then I decide whether the job is worth taking without the timeline we agreed on.”
“They need to discuss it.”
***
A week later, they approved the delay.
Ben came home.
“They’ll wait until summer.”
I nodded.
He watched me.
“I haven’t said yes yet, Ben. But it’s easier now that we’re on the same page.”
“They’ll wait until summer.”
***
Over the next three weeks, I finished two major events and mapped out how to rebuild my business.
Then one Saturday morning, I found Ben at the table with Olive.
“I’ve decided.”
He stood.
