Page 28 of The Contract Marriage

She’s all I’ve ever dreamed of, walking up in a sleeveless white silk dress that reaches her ankles. The top of her cleavage peeks out above a square neckline trimmed with some bridal-looking floral lace. She’s pulled back a section of hair from each temple and braided them, with little tendrils framing her face. The rest cascades down her back like spun night sky. A wide smile splits her stunning face, a rose blush in her cheeks and a hint of shyness in her eyes glimmering underneath her calm façade.

In her hand is a bouquet of pink and orange roses. They don’t really seem to suit her, but maybe she likes those colors. I glance down at the superfluous white flowers I brought. Sorry, guys. Guess there’s no place for you at the ceremony. Maybe I should’ve texted first to see what her plans were.

“Hi, Liam,” she says, her voice slightly breathless.

“Hello, beautiful. You look…” I can’t think of a better word. “…beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The flush in her cheeks deepens. “When you stare at me like that, I feel like a bride.”

Not just any bride, but the most adored bride in the world. I swallow the words because she won’t want them. At least not right now. It’s too soon.

“You’re so fancy in your tux.” Olivia glances down. “Do you think I look okay like this?”

“Not okay. Perfect.” She could show up wearing a trash bag and still be perfect.

Her eyes drop to the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Yeah. For the ceremony.” I clear my throat awkwardly. “I wasn’t sure if you were bringing your own.”

She takes the white dahlias, studying the fresh blossoms as pleasure unfurls in her eyes. “They’re stunning, absolutely gorgeous.” She exhales as she narrows her gaze at the roses. “I don’t want to throw these away since Simon had to rush to grab them, but I can only have one bouquet…” She pulls her lips in, as though greatly conflicted.

I make a show of thinking to try to hide my satisfaction. Don’t want her to get the impression that I’m being unkind to that officious waste of space. “Hmm… Why don’t we give the roses to the clerk who processes our marriage license?”

She brightens immediately. “Great idea!”

We head to the clerk’s section. Janice, the name reads. She has the forlorn appearance of a basset hound who’s been neglected for too long. Her dull dark eyes say she isn’t having a great day, and not even Friday afternoon can cheer her up.

“Hi, Janice. These are for you,” Olivia says, presenting her with the flowers.

She blinks and presses a hand with short unpainted nails to her chest. “For me?” More blinking. “Because…why?”

“Because you’re processing our marriage license,” Olivia says.

“Everyone deserves to have a great day,” I add, especially on a day like today, when even the sun is shining brighter.

“Well, thank you! These are lovely!” She buries her face in the roses, then lifts her head. A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. I blink, surprised at how she transforms from sad basset hound into perky border collie in an instant. “Let me just take your information.”

Janice clacks away, chatting amicably about what a crappy day it’s been until now. Apparently, her boyfriend forgot her birthday. “It’s not like this is the first year we’ve been dating.”

“Happy birthday. I would’ve never forgotten,” I say with all the sympathy in the world. Being overlooked by people is something I’m familiar with. “Your boyfriend doesn’t deserve you.”

“Right? Didn’t even bother to text. Who does that? It’s like love is over.”

“Maybe he’s planning a surprise,” Olivia says.

Janice snorts. “He isn’t that devious. Just senile before his time. Forgot his suit for a friend’s wedding, and he was the best man.” She shakes her head, then indicates me with a tilt of her chin. “Not like this one. Shows up in a tux just for the marriage license.”

“We’re having the ceremony right after this,” I clarify with a grin.

“Well, congratulations. Have a happy marriage. You make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you,” I say. Olivia smiles, her blushing face half-hidden in the dahlias.

With the freshly printed marriage license in my breast pocket, I turn to Olivia. “We now have everything, except for one thing.”

“What?”

“A ring.” I glance down at her finger, where the ugly solitaire still occupies the space it doesn’t deserve. “That’s just so pathetic,” I mutter.