Chapter 11 - PRESTON’S VERSION OF MARRIAGE
Preston and I had loved each other.
I need that sentence because people prefer retroactive simplicity.
We met at an architecture charity auction.
Argued about a house.
He called minimalist interiors:
"expensive rooms afraid of furniture."
I told him his favorite architect designed:
"mansions for men who need garages bigger than libraries."
We married two years later.
He was funny.
Protective without being overbearing at first.
Proud of my work.
He cooked badly.
He sang worse.
Then my father entered every conflict even when absent.
Not because Dad always interfered.
Because Preston measured himself against him.
If I bought something expensive:
"Your dad’s world."
If I suggested a lawyer:
"Castellani answer."
If I wanted better security:
"Your father got in your head."
Pregnancy intensified it.
Preston wanted to prove he could provide everything.
Then his company struggled.
He stopped sleeping.
Became defensive about money.
I offered once:
"Let me help personally."
He refused.
My separate assets?
"No."
Dad’s money?
"Never."
Yet he used Dad’s money covertly.
Why?
May you like
Because secret dependency hurt his pride less than acknowledged help.
That contradiction destroyed our marriage faster than the accounting did.
