He Put Our Wedding House in His Ex's Name

The transfer at the county records office had come down to the last step.

My parents stood at the signing counter, clutching a savings passbook they'd built up over a lifetime, glowing with anticipation.

Stewart Dickerson pulled me into the corner by the stairwell. His voice was low, but there wasn't a shred of doubt in it.

"Lucy, Mel's brother is getting married, and the bride's family won't go through with it without a home in a good school district. I'll just put this place in Mel's name for now, as a stopgap."

"Once the New Year passes and her brother's wedding is done, we'll switch the name back. Be reasonable about this. Don't make a scene in front of the elders."

I stared at the property application form in his hand, Melinda Fox's name already filled in. "My parents emptied their retirement savings to buy this house, and you want to put your ex-girlfriend's name on it?"

He knit his brows, his whole face full of disappointment. "Mel has nowhere left to turn. We're about to be husband and wife. You can't even find it in you to be that generous?"

At the signing counter, my mother was still dreaming about babysitting our future kids, carefully wiping down her reading glasses.

And Melinda stood there smug, ID card in hand, ready to press her thumbprint onto the form.

I shoved Stewart aside and walked straight to the window and snatched back every down-payment receipt.

"Dad, Mom, we're not buying the house. And I'm not getting married."

At my words, Melinda's hand froze in midair with the ID still in it, the smugness on her face setting into pure shock.

My mother gripped that bank passbook with its password written inside, staring at me, bewildered and frightened.

"Lucy, you what did you say?"

"What is wrong with you?"

Stewart lunged forward and grabbed my wrist.

He dropped his voice and hissed the words out through his teeth.

"Lucy Pruitt! You've got no shame, but I still do! Look at all these people watching. Who is this scene for?"

He hauled at me, trying to drag me back into the corner.

"Aren't you always the reasonable one? Go apologize to the clerk, now! Just tell them we agreed to put Mel's name on it first!"

My mother looked at us, then at Melinda standing lost in front of the window, and finally understood that the house she and Dad had emptied their retirement savings to buy was really about to end up in a stranger's hands.

Her hands trembled.

"Clack."

That passbook she'd treasured hit the floor.

The small sound of it went straight through my heart.

I wrenched my wrist free of Stewart with everything I had, a red mark rising on it in an instant.

I ignored him and turned to the clerk at the window.

"This house. We're not buying it."

A ripple of murmuring ran through the crowd waiting in line in the hall.

"What's going on?"

"Sounds like the groom wants to put the house in his ex-girlfriend's name"

"With the bride's family's money?"

The voices jabbed into my ears like needles.

The real estate agent hurried over, sweating, and lowered his voice in embarrassment.

"Miss Pruitt, this this isn't something to joke about. The seller's side is still waiting to finish the process, and the down payment"

"Excuse me, which of you is actually doing the transfer?" The clerk rapped on the glass, face cold.

"There are people waiting behind you. If you don't settle this, your number gets voided!"

My mother bent down, hands shaking, and picked the passbook up off the floor, wiping the dust off it with her rough fingers.

My father stood, slammed his reading glasses down onto the seat.

He pointed at Stewart. "Stewart! What gives you the right? What gives you the right to take my family's money to keep somebody else!"

Stewart flinched at the shout, but he brushed my father's fury off completely.

He didn't even glance at him. Instead he spun around, urgently, pressing Melinda, who was still frozen in place.

"Mel, don't move! Get over to the window and hold our spot! Don't let them cancel the number!"

He turned back to us, to everyone gathered around watching, and argued his case at the top of his voice.

"Uncle, Aunt! Don't listen to Lucy, she's talking nonsense! I'm just borrowing Mel's name for a little while! Just one month! The second her brother's wedding is over, we'll go straight to the notary and sign the house back over to Lucy!"

"Notary?" A cold laugh slipped out of me.

"Stewart, do you think I know nothing about the law? Once school-district residency is registered against this house, it can't be changed for six years! You buy the place outright with my parents' money, then turn around and take it to the bank for a business loan against it. And once you and Melinda run off with the cash, who exactly are my parents supposed to chase down for it?"

I stared at him, and it all came back to me: how he'd wrung money out of me time after time, a brother's startup, a sick relative, and then gone straight out to buy Melinda handbags and jewelry.

I'd swallowed it and swallowed it, and this was what it got me. Today he was treating my parents' burial savings like a favor to hand his ex-girlfriend.

I was wide awake now.

But my mother was still clinging to one last thread of hope.

Afraid of making my future marriage harder, she fought back her tears and, in a trembling voice, pleaded with me:

"Lucy... how about... how about we just have him write an IOU... and leave it at that?"

"You hear that!" The moment Stewart caught my mother's words, his arrogance flared right back up.

"Lucy Pruitt! Listen to your elders and pay the rest of the money already!"

His shamelessness was beyond anything I'd imagined.

I looked around me, at my father's hands shaking with fury, at my mother's small, pleading eyes, at the crowd pointing and whispering.

The agent was still pushing beside me: "Miss Pruitt, are you buying this place or not? Give us a straight answer!"

I didn't answer.

I just balled up the torn down-payment receipt in my hand, right in front of everyone, and crushed it tight.

Then I hurled it into the trash can beside me.

Stewart lost it and shrieked, "Lucy Pruitt! Without this school-district house, Mel's brother can't get married!"

I looked at him coldly and couldn't be bothered to give him a single word.

I took my parents by the arm and walked toward the doors of the records office without looking back.

Behind us, Stewart and Melinda's shouting faded further and further away.

We'd barely made it out the front doors of the records office when my phone started buzzing like mad.

I opened it. Stewart had pulled Melinda into the family group chat, and Melinda was there defending herself.

Attached was a photo of her red-rimmed eyes and an ID card streaked with tear stains, dabbed at with a tissue.

"I really never thought it would turn into this. Stewart, I'm sorry, it's all my fault, I made you and Lucy fight."

The group chat shared by both our families exploded in the same instant.

Message after message came flooding in, all tagging me and Stewart, asking what on earth had gone wrong with the transfer of the new house.

My mother sat down on the flower bed at the edge of the road, her thumb typing something and deleting it, deleting it and typing again.

After a long silence, she gave in after all, her voice thick with tears:

"Lucy, how about... how about we just do what Stewart says, go do the notary first... the engagement's already set, all our relatives and friends know..."

"No!"

My father snatched the passbook out of her hands and shoved it into the inner pocket over his chest, quick and unyielding.

"Don't reply! Not one word!" he cut my mother off sharply.

"This is flat-out fraud, and you're still making excuses for him? Is the Pruitt family really so short on people that we have to grind our own daughter into the dirt like this?"

My father's words hit me like a shot straight to the heart.

Just then, in the group chat, my cousin Danielle Coleman got so angry she fired off a long voice message.

Her voice came through shrill and loud, brimming with rage.

"Stewart, are you even human?! You take my aunt and uncle's burial savings and buy your ex-girlfriend a wedding house? What is Lucy supposed to do? Where does that leave our family's face? You ungrateful, backstabbing freeloader!"

Stewart fired off two messages in the group chat, one right after the other.

@Danielle, quit spreading lies! Ex-girlfriend? Mel is just my sister!

Everybody relax. Lucy and I got into a little spat, that's all. I'll go smooth things over and bring her back to finish the paperwork.

The sheer nerve of him turned my stomach.

Right then, an unknown number rang through.

It was the owner of the renovation company we'd booked.

He asked, careful and polite, "Miss Pruitt? About the auspicious start date tomorrowdo you still want us to go ahead as planned and swing the first hammer at the new place?"

My father took the phone straight out of my hand, answered without hesitating, and put it on speaker.

"This is Lucy's father. We're not buying the house."

The line went dead.

My mother couldn't hold herself together anymore. She turned her face away and cried until she could hardly breathe.

Something in me knotted tight.

Stewart called again. I hung up on him.

Then came voice message after voice message, more than a dozen in a row.

I tapped the last one.

"Lucy Pruitt! Have you had enough! Quit making a scene in the middle of the street! I'm counting to three. Grab that passbook and get back in here to transfer the residency, now!"

I lifted the phone to my mouth and answered, cold and flat.

"Stewart, get ready to take a call from my lawyer. We're going to talk about calling off the engagement, and about damages."

The group chat went dead silent.

A few seconds later, Melinda popped up with a slick little message.

Lucy, please don't be upset, this is all my fault. How about thisjust treat the down payment as a loan from me to you. I'll write you an IOU and pay you back every month from now on

My mother stood up and took my hand.

"Lucy. Let's go home."

Her eyes held nothing now but the finality of a heart that had given up.

We walked to the curb and flagged down a cab.

The cab carried us home.

As we passed the upscale complex that was supposed to be our wedding home, I saw the electronic screen at the entrance still scrolling the red banner the agent had put up early,

"A Warm Welcome to Mr. Dickerson and Miss Pruitt to Their New Home."

Right then, that streak of red looked unbearably bleak, and unbearably absurd.

Once we got home, the phone started buzzing again.

It was a text from the bank's large-transfer system.

Dear customer, your scheduled large-transfer window will close in 22 minutes. Please complete authorization as soon as possible.

Time was pushing me toward the final cut.

At the top of the screen, text messages kept popping up.

It was the manager of the wedding venue, spamming my name in the planning group chat.

Miss Pruitt, are you there? When will you settle the balance for tonight's reception? If we don't get confirmation soon, we'll have to cancel the venue!

Miss Pruitt? Reply the moment you see this!

The manager of the bridal shop sent a private message too.

Miss Pruitt, that custom gown of yoursdoes it still need the final alterations? It seems like things on your end might

She didn't finish, but her meaning was plain enough.

Just then, Danielle sent a candid photo to our private group chat.

In it, Stewart and Melinda were sitting side by side in the VIP lounge at the county records office.

He had one leg crossed over the other, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, the picture of ease.

Melinda leaned against him, laughing so hard she was practically shaking.

Where was any trace of the urgency, the house-on-fire panic he kept talking about?

Stewart called again.

I hit answer, and put it on speaker.

The moment it connected, I heard Melinda's syrupy voice come through from his end.

"Stew, this coffee's so bitter. Put some sugar in it for me, would you?"

On the other end of the line, Stewart's voice went soft and coaxing.

"Okay, okay, just hold on a second. Let me finish this with Lucy first."

Then his tone flipped a full one-eighty.

"Lucy Pruitt, are you done throwing your little tantrum? Transfer the money to the account already, don't waste everyone's time."

I asked, cold. "Are you still with Melinda right now?"

Stewart admitted it without a shred of shame. "Yeah, Mel's right here beside me. So what?"

"So what?" I laughed, furious.

"She's sitting in a VIP lounge sipping coffee, and you're over here acting like your hair's on fire?"

"She just crashed into low blood sugar because we didn't get the house! I'm taking care of a sick person here!"

His excuse was clumsy and ridiculous. "Can you not be so petty about this?"

"I'm petty?" The shout finally tore out of me. "Stewart! You are out of your mind!"

"Lucy, keep your voice down!" He seemed afraid the people around him would hear.

"I'm coming over right now. You get the house sorted, and I'll take you to buy any designer bag you want, call it an apology, okay?"

I thought about the down payment, how I wouldn't even spring for a twenty-dollar takeout order, how I ate the lunch I packed every single day.

And he, so lightly, dangled a handbag at me, like it could cancel out millions in betrayal and lies.

Ding.

Another text from the bank.

The transfer window closes in 15 minutes. Please complete your facial-recognition authorization immediately.

Stewart clearly heard the alert tone through the phone.

His voice turned frantic in an instant.

"You hear that! Lucy! Authorize it now! You want every relative and friend we have laughing at our family?"

I said into the phone, mocking.

"Stewart, you only care that you'll look like a fool for not getting the house. You don't care at all how monstrous you look, playing your fiance's whole family for idiots?"

"Lucy, don't say that, Stew only did it for me"

Melinda's fake, wounded little voice slipped back in.

Before she could finish, Stewart cut her off, snarling.

"Lucy, let me tell you something! Over a little bit of money, you have to nickel and dime, wreck two families' relationship, are you sick in the head?"

The bank app's pop-up jumped onto the screen, pushing me to complete the final step.

I hung up, tuning out Stewart's insane roaring on the line completely.

A few minutes later my front door slammed open.

Stewart charged across the room and lunged for my phone.

"How long are you going to drag this out? Now! Right now! Transfer the money! Facial recognition!"

He jabbed a finger at the watch on his wrist, face twisted, screaming at me.

"The bank's about to close! If you don't transfer the money, someone else is going to snatch this school-district spot! Can you carry that responsibility?"

I took a step back and looked at him, cold.

Melinda cowered behind him like a startled little rabbit, all fragile and helpless.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt!" Seeing I wouldn't budge, Stewart wheeled around to pressure my parents.

"You two talk some sense into Lucy! Don't let her wreck the peace between our families over a little money! How are we supposed to be in-laws after this!"

He was treating my parents like an ATM he could work however he pleased.

"A little money?" I finally spoke, cold.

"Stewart, in your eyes, my parents' life savings are just a little money, just a number, is that it?"

"I said I'd pay it back!" He cut me off, impatient, still pushing. "Quit stalling! Just do the recognition!"

Mom's eyes brimmed with tears, and her hand went for the other bank card in her pocket, ready to spend her own retirement savings just to make the trouble go away.

I clamped down hard on her wrist.

We couldn't back down.

The moment we gave in today, these two leeches would drain my parents dry for the rest of their lives.

"Get out!"

Dad stepped in front of us, planting himself between Stewart and the two of us.

He jabbed a finger at Stewart's face.

"This wedding's off! Get the hell out of here!"

Right then, a few cars pulled up outside our door.

Stewart's relatives.

They'd been planning to head straight to the new place to tour it and celebrate. It never crossed their minds that something had gone wrong with the purchase.

"What's going on here?"

"Weren't they buying a house? Why's everyone shouting?"

"Lucy, why do you look so awful?"

A text alert chimed. A private message from the agent.

Miss Pruitt, have you and Mr. Dickerson worked things out? The sellers say not only will they keep the twenty-thousand-dollar deposit, you'll also owe a penalty fee of ten percent of the total price.

Mom had clearly seen it too.

"Lucy, stop this, please. Just send the money over"

Seeing his chance, Stewart hurried over at once, all fake generosity.

"Look at the state you've got your mother into. Don't drag your parents out onto the street to embarrass themselves like this!"

I thought about how Dad, trying to save a little more, wouldn't even run the air conditioning in summer.

How Mom, to pinch pennies, hadn't bought herself a single new outfit in three years.

"Stewart, I'm asking you one last time." My voice was frighteningly calm.

"Right now, this second, put the name on the deed back. There's still time."

A flicker of hesitation crossed Stewart's face. Then he glanced at Melinda behind him, standing there looking so pitiful.

His answer came without a shred of doubt:

"No way! Lucy, I can't let Mel suffer. For the sake of the bigger picture, just swallow this one, all right?"

I drew a deep breath and stopped sparring with Stewart entirely.

I didn't look at him again.

I took out my phone, and in front of every one of his relatives, I tapped the option.

Cancel the home-purchase escrow account.

The next second, a crisp system chime came from the phone.

Operation successful.

The expression on Stewart's face froze solid.