Chapter 5: Traditions and Tensions

That weekend, Natalie took me to meet her parents for the first time. I bought a bottle of top-shelf bourbon, a carton of premium cigars, and a pile of vitamins that Natalie picked out. Compared to the casual way I’d discussed marriage with Rachel over dinner back then, this felt much more formal and grand.

Natalie fussed over my tie as we stood on her parents’ porch in Louisville, snow melting on the steps. “Just relax,” she whispered. “Dad’s all bark, no bite.” The house smelled of cornbread and pine, a country radio station humming in the background.

“I know this is your second marriage, and my folks might freak out a little. But honestly, seeing how you treat me, I think they’ll come around.”

Natalie held my arm, trying to calm my nerves. She thought I was unhappy about all the gifts, but really I was anxious. Love always comes with a sense of debt. I worried it wasn’t enough, or not good enough.

Her mom greeted us with a big hug, and her dad offered me a glass of his own home-brewed beer before we even sat down. I grinned, trying to hide my clammy palms.

When it came to the engagement money—Natalie’s parents said their family tradition was for the groom to give a $55,000 engagement gift. Compared to Rachel’s $12,000 back then, it was much higher. Natalie squinted and smiled: “The engagement gift is what you give me, and what’s mine is yours.”

She squeezed my hand under the table, her fingers ice-cold. “Just tradition, babe. You know I don’t care about the money.” Her parents nodded, trying to look casual, but I caught the glint in her mom’s eyes. I swallowed and promised to make it work, even as my mind did the math.

Hearing that, my heart felt even warmer. As for Rachel’s $12,000, that was her own money. When Rachel and I first got engaged, the house back home needed renovation. I asked Rachel for money in a hurry. She didn’t refuse, but made me write an IOU, saying that since it was an engagement gift, it couldn’t just be taken back directly. Later, we simply bought a new house in the city, and the old house was never renovated. Thinking back, maybe we weren’t right for each other from the start—just wasted our best years for nothing.

I remember Rachel carefully folding the IOU and slipping it in her desk. No fuss, no drama—just quiet practicality. Natalie, by contrast, flung her arms around my neck when her parents finally left the room. “We’re gonna have the best life, you and me,” she whispered, and for a second I let myself believe it.