The drive home was uncomfortable.
Glenn barely spoke.
Normally, he would have filled the silence with jokes, music, or questions about what I wanted for the wedding.
That night, he kept both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.
When we arrived home, he placed his keys on the counter and turned toward me.
"Can we talk about what happened at dinner?"
I took off my coat.
"Of course."
He looked frustrated.
"I don't understand why you're suddenly making things so complicated."
I raised an eyebrow.
"How is asking for a property agreement complicated?"
"Because we're getting married. We're supposed to trust each other."
I almost smiled.
Trust.
The same word he had used while explaining his plan to someone on the phone.
"I do believe trust is important," I said. "That's why I want everything to be clear from the beginning."
He shook his head.
"Nobody thinks about these things when they're engaged."
"Maybe they should."
Glenn walked across the room.
"Look, I proposed because I love you. I don't want to spend the next few months arguing about legal documents."
I studied his face.
For eleven years, I had been waiting to hear him say those words.
Now that he had finally said them, I wondered whether he had practiced them.
"Then signing a simple agreement shouldn't be a problem," I replied.
He stared at me.
"You're making me feel like some kind of stranger."
I said nothing.
He eventually walked into the bedroom.
That night, we slept on opposite sides of the bed.
The next morning, Glenn seemed determined to restore normality.
He made breakfast, kissed my cheek, and suggested that we begin looking at wedding venues.
I told him I wasn't ready to make any decisions until we had spoken with the attorney.
His expression tightened.
"You're really serious about this?"
"Completely."
Over the next several days, the subject became a recurring argument.
Glenn insisted that couples should not need legal agreements if they truly loved each other.
He said I was allowing money to come between us.
He even suggested that my grandfather would have wanted us to share the house.
That comment hurt.
My grandfather had worked his entire life for what he owned. The lake house represented decades of memories and personal sacrifices.
He had chosen to leave it to me.
I had no intention of allowing someone else to rewrite that decision.
One evening, Glenn made another attempt.
"Maybe we should just put both our names on the property eventually," he said casually.
I looked up from my phone.
"Why?"
"Because it's our home now."
"It isn't our home. It's my inheritance."
He frowned.
"That's a pretty selfish way to look at marriage."
I placed my phone on the table.
"Would you have proposed if I hadn't inherited the house?"
The question came out before I could stop myself.
Glenn froze.
"What?"
I held his gaze.
"I asked whether you would have proposed if I hadn't inherited the property."
He looked away.
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
He stood up.
"I can't believe you're questioning my intentions after eleven years."
I watched him walk toward the kitchen.
And for the first time, I realized that he was not simply uncomfortable with the agreement.
He was frightened of it.
That night, I contacted my grandfather's attorney, Mr. Bennett.
I explained that I wanted independent legal advice about protecting the inherited property before getting married.
He listened carefully and asked me to come to his office.
During our meeting, he explained that inheritance and marital property laws can vary depending on where someone lives. He recommended that I avoid adding anyone to the title without understanding the legal and financial consequences.
He also suggested discussing a properly prepared prenuptial agreement with independent legal representation for both parties.
I agreed.
But before I left, he asked something unexpected.
"Has anyone pressured you to change the ownership of the property?"
I hesitated.
Then I told him about Glenn's questions.
I did not share every detail of the phone conversation yet, but I explained that his sudden enthusiasm for marriage had made me uncomfortable.
Mr. Bennett listened without interrupting.
Finally, he said:
"Then I would strongly advise you not to sign anything until you understand exactly what you're agreeing to."
I thanked him and left.
When I arrived home, Glenn was waiting in the living room.
He looked at my face and immediately asked:
"Did you tell the attorney about us?"
I stopped.
"Why?"
He stood up.
"Because I received a call today."
My stomach tightened.
"What call?"
He looked directly at me.
"Someone from the attorney's office contacted me."
I felt my heart begin to race.
Then Glenn said something that made me realize he might already know I had discovered his secret.