Tara
Finn shows up at my cottage around seven. He knocks a few times but I call out and tell him to wait. I’m wearing an ivory dress with a lacy top and a sheer layered skirt, something I bought years ago and never wore because who the hell can pull off white without a wedding. It’s a little small, and the skirt’s a little short, but pink colors my cheeks as I think about how Kellen likes my legs. I finish the ensemble with white sneakers and white socks, refusing to get too dressed up.
Even if this is my wedding, it’s not a real wedding.
It’s just paperwork with a ceremony attached.
I’m not going to treat it like this is my forever. One day, I can have a real ceremony, with the church and the party afterward, and I can get my night where I’m the center of attention.
Today is just an interlude to my real life.
Finn looks annoyed when I finally emerge. He gives me a once-over and nods. “Come on then. We’re late.”
“What’s the deal, anyway? How did Kellen get an appointment already?”
“We happen to know the judge that does these and he’s letting us in first before the doors officially open. Obviously, money is involved, and a fair number of favors. And now we’re running late.”
“You can drive fast.”
Finn grunts and doesn’t argue as we hurry through the garden. I worry about getting dust and dirt on my clothes but whatever. This isn’t real. This isn’t forever. That’s my mantra for today.
Kellen’s waiting outside of his Range Rover in a slick black suit and he grins when he spots me. His eyes roam down my body and linger on my thighs and I feel myself blushing again and already regretting this decision. This isn’t real, this isn’t forever. He knows I know how he feels about my legs and now I’ve made it obvious that I like the attention and he’ll never let me forget it. But instead of making a cocky comment, he takes my hand, pulls me against him, and hugs me softly, hands on my lower back.
It’s strangely… normal. Coming from him at least.
“You look perfect,” he whispers in my ear.
“Thanks,” I say, blushing even deeper, because somehow that relatively benign hug and compliment feel even more intense and suggestive coming from him.
Finn does, in fact, drive very fast. He heads to the local county courthouse and a security guard opens the front door when we pull up to the curb. “You’re late,” the guy says, a buzz-cut white man with a deep scowl.
“Is Judge Almeda ready?” Finn asks.
“In his chambers. Better hurry.”
Kellen slips the security guard a rolled-up hundred which seems to smooth things over and we’re escorted inside. The courthouse has the feel of most government buildings: tile floor, big windows, lots of arches and lighting, and metal detectors everywhere. Everything is twenty years too old, right on the edge of being clean, and worn down by time and lack of updating. We go through more security before the security guard escorts us down a series of side hallways, past more nondescript wooden doors, bathrooms, offices, chambers, administrative wings, and finally into the judge’s chambers toward the back of the building.
An older white man in a suit is waiting outside of the chamber entrance, looking nervous. “Almeda is annoyed,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. He has the aura of a man that’s always on the edge of anxiety.
Kellen shakes his hand. “Don’t worry, Albert. We’ll be fine. Did you bring the contract?”
Albert scowls and glances at me. “It’s as you requested, although I’m not sure about the legality here. I had two interns up all night drafting it and now they’re demanding overtime pay, so thanks for that. You know you’re offering to give her something you don’t have a claim on, right?”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
Albert sighs and shakes his head. “We’d better go in then. Ready?”
“Ready,” Kellen says and reaches out. He takes my hand and pulls me against him, and I’m suddenly nervous for the first time all morning, but his arm across my shoulder hugs me against his body like he’s not going to let me escape, and we’re ushered into the chambers. Finn, Albert, and the security guard all follow.
Judge Almeda is a black man in his fifties with a tired frown and a big, steaming cup of coffee on his desk. The carpet is thick and studded with blue and red flowers, and I stare at the pattern as we approach my doom—the stems, the petals, the stigma, pistil and sepal, all the various parts of a saguaro blossom, the Arizona state flower stylized into a thousand twisting shapes. We’re suddenly before the judge and he’s looking at us with that big annoyed frown. “Are you two ready?” he asks, checking his watch. “You’re late.”
“Sorry, your honor, but we’re good to go.” Kellen’s smile is a spotlight. I can focus on that smile and his arm across my shoulders. I can focus on Kellen, this man I’m marrying, because if I take the time to think about what I’m actually doing then I just might start screaming.
The judge talks about love and marriage and all that, and Kellen’s nodding along and grinning, and I remember to smile too because this is my wedding day and I need to act like I want to be here, and when the judge finishes his speech he nods to Kellen, who turns to me, tilts my chin toward him, and lands a chaste, boring, almost disappointing kiss on my lips.
“Now go sign the paperwork and have a happy life,” Judge Almeda says. “And please never wake me up early just to be late again.”
“Thank you, your honor,” Kellen says and Finn plops a fat white envelope on the judge’s desk which immediately disappears into a drawer.