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Jim came back into the room, clearing his throat.
I pulled away from Trace, blushing, which was silly. It wasn’t like we were doing anything inappropriate. But the look on Jim’s face suggested that he thought otherwise.
“I have some papers for you to sign,” he muttered gruffly, settling behind his desk once more. The wheels on his chair squeaked shrilly. “Sit,” he pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.
My eyes widened and Trace coughed to stifle his chuckle.
“Here,” Jim slid a stack of papers to Trace. “You fill this part out and she fills this out,” he handed him a pen. “Sign down there,” he pointed to the bottom of the page.
Trace filled the information out quickly and pushed the documents my way. I signed my name beside his and stared in awe at my name for a moment. This was the last time I would be signing my name as Olivia Owens. From this moment on I was going to be Olivia Wentworth. That knowledge filled me with a giddy warmth.
Jim stood and puttered around his office. Minutes later he returned and said, “This is your copy. Show this to whoever is administering your wedding and you’re good to go.”
“Thanks,” Trace took the papers from him and shook his hand.
“Good luck to you,” Jim muttered.
Trace stood, smiling down at me. “Ready?”
“You know it,” I answered immediately.
He chuckled. “Glad to know you’re ready.”
“I’m more than ready,” I smiled, following him out of the building.
“Oh, really?” He raised a brow.
I nodded. “Marriage is just another adventure.”
“That it is,” he grabbed me by the waist, kissing me. “Last one before we’re married,” he winked. “I hope that will hold you over.”
“I think I’ll live,” I giggled.
“Good, ‘cause I’m not into necrophilia.”
“Ew, Trace,” I wrinkled my nose.
“What?” He grinned, unlocking the car. “Shouldn’t you be glad I’m not into that?”
I gagged. “Stop talking.”
He chuckled as he slid in the driver’s seat. “We haven’t even said ‘I do’ and you’re already telling me to shut up,” he shook his head. “Should I run now?”
“Stop it,” I fought a smile, pushing his shoulder. “Oh no!” I exclaimed suddenly.
“What?” Trace responded, looking wildly around him to locate whatever had caused my outburst.
“We don’t have wedding rings!”
He chuckled. “Dang, woman. I thought something bad happened.”
“Sorry,” I muttered with a frown.
“I actually have your ring,” he admitted.
“What? Let me see it,” I grabbed his arm.
“No way,” he shook his head, fighting a smile. “You’re not seeing it until it goes on your finger.” He frowned. “I don’t have it with me, anyway. It’s at home in my sock drawer.”
