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“What?” I’m so utterly happy, but also confused.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a man dressed in all black approaching us.
“Let’s get married right now,” he says.
Even though there’s a grin on his face, I know he’s absolutely serious.
“Right now, Ford?”
He nods. “Yes, Ivy. Right now. We can have a big Hollywood wedding later, but right now I want you to become my wife.”
My makeup is fucked as tears stream down my cheeks.
“Okay,” I whisper through a blubber of emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you right now.”
He slips the ring over my finger, takes my hand, and then turns to the mystery guest, who is a justice of the peace.
“Let’s do it.”
The ceremony is simple and lasts only about ten minutes, but it’s binding. There isn’t a single doubt that I made the correct decision. This is the perfect way to marry a man who shunned the public eye for so long.
We sign the necessary documents, and when I drop the pen, I look up at him. I’m married to Ford Harmon, no longer Hollywood’s perennial bachelor.
“Are you ready, Mrs. Harmon?” He extends his arm toward me.
Mrs. Harmon. I like the sound of that. It sounds like a role I was born to play.
* * *
