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“I won’t claim anything. As long as you don’t claim spousal support.”
Everett’s mouth quirks up in the corner and I respond with a shy laugh.I know if it was anyone else, yes wouldn’t even be an option. I need someone in my corner on this thing Dad has given me to do and it’s way too much to hide from him.
“And we keep it a secret?”
“Yes,” he says, and he squeezes my hand. My frazzled, weary heart skips a beat.
With a nod, I exhale. “Yes.”
His shoulders drop away from his ears in relief but he keeps my hand in his. In all the times he’s been up in my personal space in large crowds or in mobs of photographers, I’ve never been able to savor his touch the way I do now. I can feel every curve and callous of his palm and fingers. His hand is just large enough to make mine feel small and protected. My heart races and I try to give it a stern talking to, telling it to calm down.
“We should go to the clerk’s office now,” Everett says, all business. “There may be a bit of a line.”
I pull myself together and remember the reality of my publicly recognizable face.
“Just meet me back here in five,” I say, “I need some sunglasses, maybe a hat.”
I go in my room and shut the door behind me, sagging back against it as I try to hold on to the feeling of Everett’s hand around mine and the way he said my name in that low, rough voice.
Everett loudly clears his throat as he heads down the hall and it snaps my heart back into place. He is protecting me. There are no feelings here. I would hate to embarrass myself by letting feelings get away from me. He is doing his job. This is a job. It’s all just work.
I duck into my closet and root through it to find the most inconspicuous downtown outfit I can. Jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a black baseball cap should work. Black Chelsea boots and a military green parka will complete the look. I dress quickly and check my reflection in my full-length mirror, flipping on a pair of aviators and pulling the hat down low.
“Keep yourself safe by keeping this secret,” Dad said. Well, I’m about to fail, but it’s a necessary fail. I need help keeping myself safe and I need to marry to do that. Deep breath. Get to the door, open the door.
Everett’s already standing there waiting and I have to laugh at what he’s changed into: dark jeans, an olive parka, and a black ball cap. In our quest for discreetness, we’re basically matching. What is happening?
He doesn’t say anything, just looks me over head to toe, smiles, then turns and walks ahead of me down the hall. Our usual routine, like nothing’s changed. My gaze drifts down his arm and I catch how his fingers tap against his thumb, from pointer to pinky, counting up and down - one, two, three, four, four, three, two, one. His tell-tale sign of high anxiety. He looks down at me, a question in his eyes, and I nod to him. We’re doing the right thing. He stands straighter, squares his shoulders, and opens the back door.
CHAPTER 6
There are a few couples ahead of us at the clerk’s office. I pray, hope, and wish for an invisibility cloak. All we need is a tabloid writer to spot us or the wrong person to post to social media and it’s game over. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to look anyone in the face, carrying around everything that’s supposed to be kept a secret.
“We need to get the license now and then we’ll do the marriage tomorrow,” Everett explains.
“Got it,” I say, keeping my head down. Deep breath. “Thank you, for organizing this.”
He nods to me.
Our number is called for the license and we get it no problem. I learn that Everett’s never been married before, his formal state of residency is Maryland, and his middle name is Jae-won.
“Are you full Korean?” I ask. He nods without offering any further explanation. His family is…his parents are…shockingly I’m drawing a blank. Have we never talked about his family?
On the drive home, the marriage license sits on the console between us and the silence is thundering. What am I supposed to say? I can’t think of anything that would be appropriate. And my empty stomach isn’t making it any easier to focus.
“I’ll make us food when we get home,” says Everett. The way he just knows makes me want to hug him, but instead I turn my head to look out the window and shove my cheek against my fist, willing myself to keep it together. I can do this. This isn’t going to be a marriage, it’s simply an alliance.
As soon as we get home, fading adrenaline and rising jet lag crash over me like a tidal wave. Exhaustion has me sleep-walking down the hall with Everett’s hand gently pushing against my shoulders, propelling me towards my room.
“Go, fall into bed.”
I’m not going to start the steps of Dad’s mission until I have Everett legally in my corner, so I can’t do anything until tomorrow anyways. Bed sounds good.
“I’ll bring you food when you wake up. I’ll be here.”
I sleep-walk into my room, toe my shoes off, and climb under the covers. Something about being home in my own bed, so fluffy, so cocooning, with my bodyguard-fiancé outside to protect me is cozy and comforting. No one is expecting me to be home yet, so no one is expecting me to work. Is this the sense of relief I was supposed to have my entire time away?
I drop off to sleep in no time.
