• When?—May 15. Yes, in a little over six weeks. Jim and I are getting married in six weeks.
• Where?—Jim’s backyard. (I have become obsessive about checking his trees for budding leaves. C’mon spring, please get green already.)
• Who is marrying us?—Our bishop. He was around during the whole affair and divorce stuff and he and his adorable wife couldn’t have been more supportive and available and wonderful. It means a lot to Jim and me that he will be the one to sign our merger.
• Will I change my last name to Elliker?—Nope. I’m Megan Romo. However, I’m not uptight about the whole thing. I believe that being Jim’s wife makes me Mrs. Elliker or Sister Elliker, and I’m not going to correct anyone. I’ll informally hyphenate here and there for the sake of clarity regarding who my husband is, but I don’t intend to change my legal name.
• Where will we live?—I’m moving into Jim’s house. Which means a lot of work for my sweetheart to morph the space into something that works for us, and I’m terribly grateful to him for getting that stuff done, like, very overwhelmed type of grateful. He’s blowing me away again and again with how he's so on top of all the changes we agreed on. At the very top of my list of what needs doing is having the interior painted. The ex-Mrs. Elliker, whoever she was, painted the entire inside of that house a color that I keep saying I’m fairly certain must have been entitled Decomposing Small Intestine. Think brownish mauve. Gotsta change that stat.
• Wait, Megan, wait just a second here—you’re moving into the house that used to be occupied by the woman who had an affair with your husband!!!?—Oh yes, yes I am. Admittedly, at times it’s hard for me, but I keep reminding myself that I’m tougher than other people and Jim is awesomer than everyone else combined, so we can work through this. We agreed (and my shrink too) that keeping the kids in the house where they can stay in the same school and same ward at church was the best thing, despite how hard it might be for me sometimes. So suck it up, little Romo, ‘cause you’ve got this.
• What will we do with my house?—Rent it out.
• Prenup?—Absolutely, but not for why you may think. Jim’s kids saw their dad get utterly screwed financially in his divorce, and they don’t ever want that to happen to him again. We constantly hear observers say, “Geez, if I was the one that had an affair like Carrie did, I sure wouldn’t have gone after Jim’s money. Have some decency!” Decency was absent. Jim had to fork over much dough. Thus I personally was adamant about a prenup so that Jim’s kids could see that I’m not in this for their dad’s money. (And I can support myself anyhow, thank you very much.) One of Dustin’s first questions when we told him that we were getting married was, “Are you guys signing a prenup?” I was happy to be able to say yes. In fact, because of him very specifically, that was the first thing we got started when we decided to get married. Long before the ring or the cake or the date or anything.
• Six weeks isn’t very much time, how’s your stress level, Megan?—Eh, it ebbs and flows. But were Jim not super duper terrific, I’d be a basket case 24/7. My head is a minefield of wedding and fusion realities, details, and to-dos, and that means that other stuff is falling by the wayside pretty regularly. Put plainly, my wits aren’t so much about me at present. I am, shall we say, distracted. But I’m distracted for the best of reasons—I have fallen unexpectedly, helplessly, and so happily in love with a man who gets a kick out of surprising me, does everything he can to make me happy, reassures me when I struggle, picks me up and puts me on the counter so I’m at a better height for kissing, values my input, listens when I speak, remembers the important stuff, and instead of ever fretting, he just follows through and gets things done. If I have to deal with a little uncharacteristic distracted brain in order to marry this man, no problemo. He's worth that and so much more.
|At Evandrewline's wedding back in September.|