Chapter 45 "That's Where We'll Be Buried Together"
Nathan gazed down at the porcelain portrait on the headstone. In the hazy midday light, the old man’s weathered face almost seemed to be smiling back at him.
After saying a final, agonizing goodbye to Alvin and Carol, Chloe followed Nathan across the sprawling, rolling hills of the cemetery to visit his parents.
Truthfully, Chloe hadn't spent much time with Nathan's family when they were alive. When they first got engaged, she had felt a deep, intimidating resistance radiating from Samantha.
Samantha Archer had been a fiercely pragmatic, aristocratic woman. She hadn't been particularly fond of her son’s fiery, stubborn college girlfriend, and she hadn't bothered to hide it.
"You can date my son to pass the time," Samantha had told her coldly over tea. "But if you expect a ring, you should wait until you’re at least thirty, finish a Ph.D., and establish a respectable career."
At the time, Chloe had just barely graduated. Young and fiercely independent, she hadn't even wanted to get married so soon. It was Nathan who had aggressively pushed for a wedding the second they had their diplomas in hand, yet Samantha made it seem like Chloe was the desperate gold digger sinking her claws in.
Deeply offended, twenty-two-year-old Chloe had snapped back, "You know what? You're absolutely right. I feel the exact same way. Nathan, you'd better listen to your mother."
But Nathan hadn't backed down. He had reached out, his large hand wrapping around Chloe’s with bruising, possessive strength. He had stared his mother down with terrifying, absolute authority.
"Mom, she isn't the one pushing for a ring. I am," Nathan had declared, his voice hard as iron. "I cannot wait that long. Once people leave college, their environments change. The people they meet change. Slowly, they drift apart."
He had pulled Chloe closer to his side, effectively shielding her from his mother’s icy judgment. "I refuse to take that gamble. I am completely in love with her. I want to marry her right now, while I love her most, to forge this certainty into iron so neither of us can ever escape it."
Samantha had frowned, her perfectly manicured brows pinching in disapproval. "You're young and running on pure adrenaline. What happens when the lust fades and you regret tying yourself down?"
"Why the hell would I sacrifice my absolute obsession right now for some hypothetical future?" Nathan had demanded, squeezing Chloe's hand so tightly it ached. He had looked down at Chloe, his dark eyes blazing with a clear, feral devotion that took her breath away. "I want to claim her right now. For the rest of my life, she is the only one I want in my bed and in my home."
Seeing the raw, desperate length Nathan was willing to go to protect her, every ounce of Chloe's stubborn pride had instantly evaporated.
Even if Samantha never fully accepted her, Chloe had been willing to endure the icy matriarch just for him. She had squeezed his hand back, looking Samantha dead in the eye, and swore: "I truly want to marry your son. I will fiercely protect him. You have my word."
Ultimately, Samantha had conceded. After the wedding, she never interfered in their domestic life. They only ever saw her for stiff, flawlessly catered Thanksgiving dinners. The relationship was transactional—when Chloe bought her a lavish gift, Samantha immediately wired the exact dollar amount back to her bank account.
Yet, that cold, heavily guarded boundary had actually given Chloe an immense sense of freedom. Samantha never crossed the line, never criticized her housekeeping, and never stirred up soap-opera drama.
Now, decades later, Chloe knelt respectfully before the imposing black marble of Samantha’s headstone.
She pressed her palms together, bowing her head deeply. Samantha, she whispered silently into the quiet air. I promise to take perfect care of him from now on. I won't let him bleed anymore. You can finally rest.
Nathan knelt beside her, his broad shoulders bowed in quiet, heavy tribute.
After a long moment, he stood up. He walked over to a communal washhouse nearby, returning with a galvanized bucket of fresh water and a clean rag. He rolled up the sleeves of his tailored black suit, revealing his corded forearms, and crouched down in the grass.
Chloe sat back on her heels, quietly pulling weeds from the base of the stone as she watched him work.
Nathan’s movements were agonizingly methodical. He wrung out the cloth and carefully, reverently wiped away the accumulated dust and bird droppings from the granite. He fetched a second bucket of clear water and meticulously polished the stone until it gleamed like a dark mirror under the Minnesota sun.
The cemetery was profoundly still. Only the biting wind and the distant cry of a crow broke the heavy silence.
Watching the fluid, practiced rhythm of his hands, a devastating realization suddenly hit Chloe.
He had done this alone.
For twenty-three years, as all four of their parents died one by one, Nathan had been the one to arrange the funerals. He had bought the caskets. He had stood over the open graves entirely by himself. He had come here, year after year, scrubbing the dirt from their names in suffocating, utter isolation.
A fresh, violent wave of pain crashed against Chloe’s ribs.
She watched in silence as the man she loved calmly arranged the fresh flowers in the bronze vases.
Finally, Nathan stood up, wiping the water from his hands and brushing the grass clippings from his suit trousers. He looked down at her. "Shall we go?"
"Yes. Let's go," Chloe murmured, letting him pull her to her feet.
As they turned to leave, Nathan casually pointed to a completely empty, perfectly leveled patch of manicured grass situated exactly halfway between the Archer family plot and her parents' graves.
"Oh. That one is ours," he stated simply.
Chloe froze. "What?"
She hurried over to the empty patch. There was no headstone, only an uncarved concrete foundation block embedded in the earth, clearly proportioned for a massive double burial plot.
"Ours?" she breathed, her eyes widening.
"When I was arranging the plots for the elders, I bought this dirt, too," Nathan said, walking up behind her, his gaze fixed on the empty grass. "The county allowed advance legacy purchases back then. The zoning rules have changed now—you couldn't buy a spot like this today."
Chloe stared blankly at the earth. The plot was nestled perfectly between Alvin and Carol on the left, and Brandon and Samantha on the right. It was anchored. Protected. As if the family would be tethered together for eternity.
Suddenly, a profound, overwhelming warmth flooded her chest. A brilliant smile broke across her face.
The morbid thought of rotting in the ground didn't scare her at all. Knowing exactly where she would rest, surrounded by the bones of everyone who had ever loved her, gave her an incredible, anchoring sense of belonging. She was a tree that had finally, violently taken root.
The terrifying decades stretching ahead of her suddenly didn't look so daunting anymore.
Chloe turned, a wicked, triumphant smile playing on her lips, and patted Nathan’s solid chest. "It's absolutely perfect. You did incredibly well, Professor. Families belong together."
Nathan looked down at her, his dark eyes crinkling with quiet amusement, though he didn't say a word.
He knew her completely. Years ago, when the cemetery director had shown him the map, Nathan had stood in the freezing rain and thought: If my Chloe were here, she’d want to be planted right in this exact spot. She would want to be near her mother. He had signed the exorbitant check without a second thought.
"But..." Chloe purred, stepping directly into his personal space and brazenly hooking her arm through his. She looked up at him through her lashes. "Since we already legally own the dirt we'll be buried in together... don't you think we need to restore our marriage above ground? Otherwise, how will they know to put us in the same box? We need the paperwork, Nathan."
Nathan violently flinched as if she had just pressed a branding iron to his skin.
He snatched his arm free, completely unraveling. "We are not discussing this right now," he rasped, grabbing the empty woven basket from the grass and practically fleeing down the slope, refusing to look at her.
"Fine! We can have a proper, thorough discussion about my marital status back at the hotel room!" Chloe called out after him, her voice dripping with deliberate, teasing provocation.
"Show some goddamn respect, Chloe, we are in a cemetery," Nathan barked back over his shoulder, his stride quickening.
Chloe clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle a laugh, mimicking a dramatic 'yes, sir' salute at his broad back.
He ignored her, his head down as he marched toward the parking lot. But even from a distance, Chloe could clearly see the dark, traitorous flush of red burning the tips of his ears.
She let out a soft, immensely satisfied chuckle. She turned back, casting one final, peaceful glance at her parents' headstones, before breaking into a jog to catch up to her husband.
The suffocating grief she had carried into the graveyard had entirely evaporated.
She still had Nathan. He belonged to her. And even if his damaged body gave out and he had to leave this earth before her, she wasn't afraid anymore.
After all, she knew exactly where to find him. Not even death could keep them apart now.