Sadie looked at him and said, “I did look you up online a little. You don’t have any assets.” It wasn’t a question.
Harvey’s jaw wanted to drop, but didn’t. “That’s true.”
“I have assets.”
“I’m happy for you.” What the hell else could he say? He was too busy keeping his sense of humor pinned to the mat. She had large breasts and when she told him she had assets he could’ve sworn she puffed her chest out. That her breasts had nothing to do with what she meant by assets, he understood. It was simply one of those moments when, alas, the healthiest choice on the table was silencing humor.
They were sitting across from each other at a picnic table in the picnic area of a large town park, boasting some 1,500-square acres. The smell of pine trees turned air into a delicacy. Across the way, kids were playing soccer. It was Spring and you could hear the birds.
Sadie had dark hair parted in the middle, a cataract had reached the base of her neck and stayed there. She continued. “The last man I got serious with had a problem with prenuptial agreements. I need to protect my assets. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“I can, very much so,” Harvey said, and meant. And he did mean it. Yes, he didn’t have any in-depth knowledge of life story. However, he knew enough about life to recognize and know she’d been deeply wounded along the way. Her instinct to protect herself didn’t come from nowhere.
Harvey looked down, and then back up at Sadie.
“Sadie, how long would you say we’ve known each other?”
“I don’t know. Between phone conversations, texting, in person? Two, three hours maybe?”
“Today is the first day we’ve met face to face, and you’re worrying about prenuptial agreements.”
“No use wasting time.”