Black Room: Door 7 by Jade London & Jasinda Wilder

Author:Jade London & Jasinda Wilder [London, Jade]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

***

“My name is all I have left of my family, Charlie.”

He cradles me closer; we’re naked, in the afterglow. I stare at the small diamond and thin silver band on my ring finger, placed there by Charlie a week ago in a courthouse wedding the day I turned eighteen.

Rain hammers on the roof and beats against the window. “I know, but—I just…it’s important to me.”

I stifle a sigh of irritation. “What about what’s important to me? I’m an orphan, Charlie. I’ve got no one except you. Literally no family at all.”

“I know, Hannah, I know. But you’re my wife now. You’re supposed to take my name.”

“Lots of women keep their name. Celebrities do it all the time. It doesn’t mean they’re less married or anything, they’re just keeping their name.”

“But you’re not a celebrity. They do it because their name is part of their brand. Angelina Jolie didn’t suddenly become Angelina Pitt.”

I can’t answer for a while because I’m too upset.

After a few minutes of tense silence, I state it outright. “I’m not changing my last name, Charlie.”

“Hannah, come on.”

I sit up, pressing the flat sheet against my chest. “You can get mad all you want, but I’m not changing my mind. I’ve been telling you this since you asked me to marry you—I told you then and I’m telling you now, I’m not changing my last name. I’m not hyphenating it, either. I’m Hannah Tavistock, and that’s not going to change. And if that’s such a big deal to you, then you shouldn’t have married me.”

“I thought you’d change your mind.”

“Well…you thought wrong,” I say. “Listen, please, Charlie, listen to me. I love you…but me not taking your last name isn’t—it’s not about you. It’s about me needing some kind of connection to my past. I’m eighteen years old, and I’ve been on my own since I was nine. I have basically no memories of my family at all, just…vague impressions my parents, that’s it. All I’ve got is their name. Please try to understand. I’ve already lost them, and I just—I have to try to hold on to some part of them. I have to.”

He’s silent for a long, long time. If it weren’t for the fact that he was staring at the ceiling, blinking now and again, I’d think he had fallen asleep. Eventually he lets out a slow breath. “Okay. All right, babe. I get it.”

He sounds bitter.

“Do you?” I ask.

He glances at me. “As much as I can, yes. I know you said it’s not about me, and it’s not. But it still hurts. I always thought of us getting married and of you becoming Mrs. Hannah Markham.”

“I married you, Charlie. I have your rings on my finger. We live in a house we picked out together. I’m your wife; that’s important to me. I chose you. Not taking your last name shouldn’t lessen the importance of that. It doesn’t to me, at least. We’ve been together for two years...you’re the only person I’ve ever even kissed, so I hope to god you understand by now that I fucking love you.

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