The emphasis on anything wasn’t completely true, we still hadn’t discussed the fact that we’d slept together. Although, that was more something I wanted to do, not something I didn’t want to do. So, it wasn’t exactly the same.
I was scared to hear what he had to say if I did bring it up, mainly that he regretted it. That was my greatest fear. So I hadn’t said anything, but Ireallywanted to know. Did he think about it? Did it change his feelings for me? Did he want to do it again?
I guess I had the answers to all those questions. His silence on the matter said it all. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t promised me anything. Just because I thought it was the best sex of my life, clearly, his perspective was different. He’d gotten whatever he wanted out of his system. I just needed to stopthinking about it. It was sex, one night, and now we were getting married, for ninety days. No. Big. Deal.
So why did I feel like I was about to have a panic attack?
My anxiety was through the roof for absolutely no reason, just like it had been at the church. We’d had a fake wedding, and now we were getting legally married. Talk about doing things backwards. It was sort of funny when you thought about it.
When we finally reached the counter, the woman behind it looked up with an arch of penciled-in brow so severe it could have cut glass. Her snow-white hair made her appear in her seventies. She wore her polyester suit with the pride of a four-star general. Her nametag read “Ida.” She eyed us as if we had asked to buy a kilo of heroin.
“Marriage license?” she droned.
Adam replied, “Yes.”
“We have an appointment,” I explained.
“Names?”
“Adam Knight and Billie Bliss,” Adam told her.
Hearing Adam say our names for our wedding license caused my heart to do a full Scarlett O’Hara swoon.
She typed on her computer. “Forms?”
I slid her the envelope with the forms that we’d been requested to bring, and she slapped down two clipboards. “Fill these out. Blue or black ink. Don’t cross out or white-out mistakes, that voids the form, and then you have to start over. If you’re undocumented or have pending legal issues, check the appropriate box. I won’t ask and I don’t care, but the state does.” She slid two pens to us as if dealing sophisticated narcotics.
I looked and saw that these were the same forms we’d had to fill out online, in hardcopy. I hadn’t expected to be offended by bureaucracy, but as I filled in the forms—legal name, date of birth, social security number, prior marriages: zero—I felt a weird pang of disappointment. Was this the moment that wassupposed to feel like a milestone? It’s not like I had ever wanted to get married, so why did it matter?
Adam’s handwriting was painstaking, each letter was blocky and deliberate. He chewed the tip of his tongue as he wrote, which made me want to reach over and kiss his forehead. It was his tell that he was nervous, which made me feel infinitesimally less alone in my ridiculous jitters.
We finished the paperwork and slid it to Ida. She scrutinized it, lips pursed, then nodded and printed out our certificate. She returned our documents with our license and gestured towards the left. “Hall C for the ceremony. You’re in the one-thirty group. Congratulations and good luck.” Her well wishes were dripping with sarcasm.
As someone in the bridal business, I was aware ofmyshortcomings in customer service and knew that the least amount of interface I had with brides and grooms, the better. “How long have you worked here, Ida?” I asked.
She blinked, perhaps surprised by my inquiry. “Forty-two years.”
“And have you always been such a ray of sunshine?”
She glared over her glasses.
“Okay, thank you for your help, Ida.” Adam ushered me away before I could get blacklisted from the county clerk’s office.
We walked down the corridor towards Hall C, where our ceremony was set to take place in an hour, and Adam still hadn’t dropped his hand from my lower back. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I was enjoying having it there.
“It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed.” He spoke in a low voice, only I could hear.
I sighed and shook my head, assuming he was being sarcastic.
“I’m serious. I haven’t seen that Billie, I was wondering where she was.”
“What Billie?” I spun towards him.
“The one who has no filter. If you think it, you say it.”
“I always do that.”
“Not since I’ve been back you haven’t. I have a feeling a lot of things have been on your mind you haven’t been sharing with anyone.”
