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I square my shoulders. “Ready.”
Troy offers me his hand. Whether as a concession or a comfort, it feels nice as I take it. It’s not like running away will achieve anything. Plus, he has my bag. So we make for the steps.
At security, our appointment time is checked and our IDs scrutinized before we pass through the metal detector that leads to a beige hallway. We follow the sign for the reception, weaving in and out of the crowds. As I read on the internet, the place is pretty busy—a revolving door of matrimony. We pass women in formal wedding dresses and men in suits. Some couples look like they’ve escaped the office for five minutes, and others more like they’re rolling in after a night on the town.
Maybe the place is busy because it’s spring. It is the season of new beginnings, hope, and renewal. Or in my case, desperation.
“I meant to ask you how you got a slot so quickly,” I say, tugging a little on Troy’s hand.
“I came in yesterday and just asked.”
“You just asked?” I dodge left to avoid walking into a woman in a pink taffeta dress.
“There were no appointments online, so I thought I’d come in. I snagged a cancellation.”
By now, we’re at reception with just one couple up ahead dealing with a city employee. She looks to be unimpressed by all things spring wedding fever. In fact, by her expression, she might as well be working at the DMV.
“I can’t tell if she’s just bored or if she hates her job.” I angle my head Troy’s way. “You’d think this would be a happy career, right?”
“Maybe she’s happy on the inside.”
“Yeah.” I feel my mouth turn down. “I can see she’s just brimming with it.”
“Be nice,” he says with a curious-looking smile. But I’m not mean. Generally. People are just people, and I’m just making conversation. Creating a distraction for my brain as I curl and release my toes inside my Mary Jane shoes. I do a couple of belly breaths next, then give my hands by my sides a discreet shake.
“You good?”
“I’m getting there.” I suck in a sharp breath as his arm comes around my back, pulling me into his side. PDA before marriage. We didn’t discuss that.
“Good, because we’re up.”
The couple in front steps away, and the city employee just lights up. Literally—eyes wide, her weathered face is suddenly wreathed in a wide smile. “Well, hello there!”
Troy sets down my overnight bag. “Hey, Dolores.”
I am shook that Troy addresses the city employee by name, especially after what I just said. But it doesn’t take long for things to fall into place.
“And this must be your intended,” she trills.
“Hello.” I give a quick smile that feels over the top. I wasn’t talking about you being a sourpuss just a moment ago, promise!
“Yeah, this is my Clara,” he says, pulling me even closer and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
His Clara? And the PDA is just flowing today.
“I adore a good love story,” she says, as her gaze jumps between us. “And second chance is just the best!”
“I won’t disagree,” he says, beaming down at me and making my heart give a traitorous flip. “Miles and years mean nothing when it was meant to be, right, Tater Tot?”
Tater—what on earth has he told her? Is this about the flying canapés? His fingers tighten a touch against my shoulder, and I gush, “Absolutely!”
“The story behind your pet name just broke my heart,” she says, pressing her hand to her chest. No need to cry over spilled canapés, Dolores. “Lucky for you, Troy is such a gentleman.”
“Oh, yes. Lucky.” Did he tell her he picked them up? “I count those stars every day.”
“Modern doctors can do such wonders.” This she says as though I don’t have ears. “And not one acne scar!” Acne? “Now, IDs, please?”
Another beige-and-brown hallway. This time long green couches line one wall. People mill around, some obviously couples, others guests. People smile and hold hands, laugh, and whisper sweet nothings. The atmosphere is . . .
