Page 77 of The Marriage Game

“She had her breakdown,” Max supplies quietly, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment at the memory of that horrific display of weakness.

“Right.” Hannah nods. “That.” She pulls a hand through her hair, wincing when she hits a snag. “She had no choice but to accept some help. I remember thinking that maybe she’d finally realize that it’s okay to not be able to do everything all the time. To set limits for herself. But of course instead my mom told you that she never would, then recommended that you set them for her. So you did. You gave her no choice but to quit her demanding job, essentially giving her no choicebutto have limits.”

Max clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in place, obviously aware that I’m hearing some brand new, somewhat unsettling information. My mom is the one who told Max to force me to leave my job working for him?

I don’t know how I feel about this. I want to be annoyed at her interference, but the truth is: Max telling me I had to quit or he’d fire me was exactly what I needed to get out of bed. I couldn’t keep up with the demands of a 50+ hours/week job while also running our two-kid household. I resisted admitting that for a long time until my body eventually gave out on me, landing me in bed. Having Max eliminate the possibility of me having to go back to that, enabled me to get back to my life knowing that it was him saying I couldn’t, rather than me conceding defeat.

And apparently that’s exactly why he did it.

Only now the roles are reversed. Max is the one with too many demands on his time. Will he let me put the same limitations on him that he once put on me?

Can I admit that I need him around more? That I need him, period?

Furthermore, what do I do now with the grudge I’ve been nursing against him all of these years? Sure, I saw benefits from the way everything played out, but I still held onto resentment about him telling me to work less because the resentment gave me secret power in our relationship. The power of having a card to play to get my way: you did this, so now I’m owed that. But having power in a relationship only matters if you’re fighting against each other. If I want to be on the same team as Max, then I need to forget about my power and choose God’s power instead. A power that truly is limitless.

“Only then,” Hannah goes on, and I rein in my reeling thoughts so I can pay attention, “youwent ahead and started working more. It crept up slowly. A few hours here, a few hours there. I doubt you even noticed. But Jill noticed, and I don’t think she knew what to do about it. Sure, she mentioned to Brooke and I that she wished you weren’t working so many hours, but she also didn’t seem to want to actually talk to you about it. I think she thought doing so would make her seem like she couldn’t handle not having you around more.”

Again a flush darkens my cheeks. Are my insufficiencies that obvious to everyone? Poor Jill, can’t handle her husband’s work schedule. Wait,no. I shake my head, trying to rebuke this line of thought in the name of Jesus. I have to stop enabling the idea that the only way I canbeenough for other people is if I candoeverything for everyone.

So what if I need help from my husband? That is perfectly normal.Perfectly. And isn’t perfection what I’ve been after all along?

Look at me spinning again.

I really am good at it.

“Anyway, Brooke and I, we were at a loss about how to help you guys, and we really wanted to, because we love you both so much. You guys took me in at the lowest point in my life, supporting me without asking for anything in return. Yet here I was, watching the two of you struggle and unsure how to help two people so opposed to receiving help.” She sighs. “But then this amazing opportunity presented itself. Brooke and I finally got the two of you to agree to come on this marriage retreat. Even better, there was something special I had the power to do for you. You see at every marriage retreat she gives, Dorothy runs a lottery and the winning couple gets some extra attention and time from her over the course of the retreat. Essentially free marriage counseling—and you know how we Garzas feel about free stuff.”

Even though I can clearly hear everything she’s saying, I lean in closer, spurred by the anticipation of what she’s going to say next. I have a feeling I know, but even so I don’t want to miss hearing the actual admission.

“So I was so excited when Luke and I found out a few weeks ago that we had won,” Hannah goes on. “But then, when I found out about the whole attorney general situation, I knew what I had to do.”

“You transferred your winnings to us.” Max has drawn the same conclusion as me. Hannah nods. Irritation flares in my chest. Hannah gave us the thing she won! No, no, no. I don’t like that at all. It was their prize—they should get to enjoy their own prize. Now I have to find a way to pay them back. For a favor I didn’t even want in the first place.

“I asked Dorothy to work with you guys instead, but then explained that it would be better if you didn’t know exactly what was going on. You two get so prickly about help. Jill especially. Ifwe told you the truth Jill would have insisted on us keeping the prize for ourselves—she hates feeling indebted to people.”

Goodness, that’s the thing about sisters: they know you too well.

“So this whole thing with Dorothy putting us in a private cabin and treating us like a special case was because of you?”

Hannah performs a curtsy. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you wasn’t exactly what I was thinking.”

“Was it something more effusive, perhaps? Oh, how deeply we thank you for your unbidden yet nevertheless amazing gift.” She adopts a British accent for this last profession.

“She put us in a cabin with a double bed, Hannah. A double bed.”

Hannah looks as if she’s trying very hard not to laugh. “A double bed— I’m going to have to pass that plot device onto Belinda,” she mutters to herself, thinking of the librarian at Grace Canyon who recently published her third clean romance novel.

“It’s not funny, Hannah.”

“Not at all.” Hannah is still fighting laughter.

“I just don’t understand,” Max goes on, “how this all could’ve been your doing. I mean, Jill sat next to them on the plane.”

Hannah shrugs. “Coincidence, I guess. Or perhapsGod-incidence,” she amends with a smirk.

“And her seeing Jill and I fighting those two times?”

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