“Got it! Bravo, you two! Quite a kiss!”
We break apart, gasping, our wild eyes meeting each other as we come to the simultaneous realization that we did not just kiss like a fake husband and wife should.
But I’m probably the only one of the two of us who doesn’t regret it. Trying not to reveal my reluctance, I allow Luna to slide down my body until her heels settle on the floor. She takes a step or two back, movements steady, even as her eyes display a lack of balance.
“Here you go. You have a good one there.” Margaret hands Luna’s phone back to her and grins over at me.
“Thank you.” I smile at the two women.
Then, taking a chance, I scoop up Luna’s hand and pull her to the side, where we can act as witnesses for our new friends. Not that either of us can pay attention to the ceremony.
I don’t know what thoughts are cycling through Luna’s head, but from the way she stares at the ceiling, I know her brain is busy at work.
“Can I see the picture?” I whisper to her.
Luna starts, and then she swipes through her phone, tilting the screen so we both can see.
Hell, it’s glorious.
Margaret got us when I lifted Luna. One of her legs bends slightly, giving the lift a whimsical air. And with the way our eyes are closed, we both seem completely lost in the passion of the moment.
I know I was.
“Lawyer can’t complain about this,” she murmurs.
My happy excitement dims at her words. Of course. Naive of me to read more into the exchange than there was.
Luna was acting the part. Just like she said she’d do.
This is fake. This is all fake, I remind myself.
I turn my attention back to the couple in this room who are actually in love. The way Margaret and Tiffany gaze into each other’s eyes is something from a romance novel. Pure and inspiring to observe.
My chest aches from watching it. From wanting it.
Could Luna ever look at me that way? Am I being unfair for hoping?
Maybe I should give up the fanciful notions I have about the two of us. Just fulfill the task of being her fake husband, like I agreed to, and not strive for anything more. That would be the honest approach.
But can I give up hope that her kiss—that amazing, ground-rattling kiss—meant something?
I don’t know what to do with all these feelings that keep growing. The woman beside me is sun, dirt, and water for these emotions, and the roots are spreading deep into my chest, finding cracks and crevices in which to tether until I’m not sure I’ll be able to uproot this longing.
“You are now wife and wife,” the judge declares.
Tiffany gives a whoop before planting her own passionate kiss on her partner.
Neither of them asks for a picture because their relationship is not for show. There’s no ulterior motive.
Their connection blooms from pure love.
Just as I feel a dip in my lips, the despondence in my chest dragging away my joy, there’s a sudden pressure against my palm.
And that’s when I realize Luna has slid her hand into mine.
As we watch the two women celebrate their love, I give Luna’s fingers a gentle squeeze, and she offers a firm press back.
CHAPTER 23
