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“Madison, stop,” he said softly, looking at her. “I have no intention of taking someone I barely know to bed, because it would end badly for both of us. I want our friendship, would like someone that’s on my side, someone who shares my name – and my home, even though it’s yours. I’m not about to ruin that by forcing myself on you, if that is what you are nervous about.”
“I am.”
“It’s on paper,” he reassured her quietly, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t want either of us to regret this, but I do want us to try to pretend or give it everything in our friendship… okay?”
She nodded silently.
“Thank you.”
“What are friends for?”
As they walked inside, they signed their names in the logbook and on the marriage license… realizing they were next. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her hands were clammy, resisting the urge to dry them on his nice uniform jacket. A moment later, he leaned towards her, whispering in her ear.
“Are you nervous too?”
Madison choked out a small laugh and looked at him.
“I’m shaking in my boots.”
“Me too,” she admitted softly in a hushed whisper… and marveled at the soft smile on his lips, catching her breath. “You have the prettiest hazel eyes.”
… Only to see his eyes crease at the corners as his smile deepened slightly where it was hidden under his moustache.
“Thank you,” he replied quietly, “I think yours are quite lovely too.”
“Keene and Morrison?” a voice called out and they jumped, before chuckling nervously and glancing at each other shyly, taking their positions in front of the magistrate.
“You are both here of your own free will?” the magistrate began from the bench coolly, just reading off yet another couple arriving to get married. She could almost tell that he was bored, doing a perfunctory duty, and it was a little unnerving.
“Yes sir.”
“Do you, Madison Anne Engle Keene, take you, Eric Richard Morrison, for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Madison said, hating the nervous tremor in her voice, and unable to look at Eric in that moment.
“And do you, Eric Richard Morrison, take you, Madison Anne Engle Keene, for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Eric’s voice didn’t waver, and she finally chanced a look at him, only to find him watching her. His throat worked several times as their eyes held, and her mouth opened slightly in awareness that there might be more to this after all.
“I do,” he repeated softly. “I’m marrying my best friend.”
“Do you have the rings?” the magistrate asked, and Madison hesitated, realizing she hadn’t thought that far into this. Just as she was about to reply, she caught something out of the corner of her eye and hesitated… as Eric took her hand in his.
Disbelieving, she looked down to see him slipping a pale-yellow oval stone on her finger… and met his eyes. He didn’t look away as he stared at her, swallowing nervously once more, before putting a single gold band near her knuckle and pausing.
“With this ring, I thee wed…” he whispered softly, and slid it into place.
“Eric…”
“Later…” he promised softly – and handed her a thin gold band.
She nodded tearfully, unable to stop looking at the ring on her finger or the man that had surprised her in so many ways. She started to slide the band on his finger and looked up at him.
“With this ring, I thee wed…” she breathed, not looking away from him.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears and full of hopeful emotion, unable to hide it. “Don’t be scared of me. I’ll never hurt you. I promise.”
“I’m not,” she uttered under her breath. “I trust you.”
