I have to remind myself that it’s fake, and I’m a harlot for enjoying such things from a man I don’t know.
“Ready?” he asks as he steps in front of me so I can see nothing but him.
“Yes,” I say with strength and resiliency. “Are you?”
“I am.” His smile seems real, but I’ve been fooled before.
His steps are determined and confident as he leads us inside, only pausing briefly to read a sign instructing us on where to go.
He releases my hand, urging me to walk through the door to the clerk’s office with a palm low on my back, and the intimacy of it makes me uncomfortable. I step away the second I can but smile at him when he looks down at me in confusion. My hands tremble as I think of the expectations that he’s going to have once the paperwork is done.
I’ll be his wife, and with that comes expectations. I hinted earlier that he should be discreet while pursuing women outside of our marriage, but he shut it down immediately.
He’s larger, a man where Cory was still a boy at seventeen. The sex I had with Cory was never enjoyable, and I swallow thinking of how terrible it could be with Nate. I take a deep breath, resigning myself to what’s to come and smile at the woman who steps up to the counter.
Nate steps forward and takes charge. “We’re here for a marriage license.”
He holds out his arm, and I step into his side like a loving fiancée excited to get married would. The woman smiles, like it makes her day to see people in love, and I know the smile I’ve mastered to cover my unhappiness is working.
Her smile falters when she looks in my direction. “I have to have ID first. Are those your parents? We have a form to complete if you’re under eighteen.”
“I’m eighteen,” I assure her as I pull my photo ID from my back pocket and place it in front of her on the counter. “I just look younger.”
“Well,” she says as she inspects it carefully. “Okay then. Sir?”
Nate pulls out his wallet and presents her with his own card. She takes both of them to get a photocopy and returns with some paperwork.
Nate fills out his part, pushing the paperwork to me for the second half, and I focus on the pen as it slides across the paper rather than looking up to see if she’s suspicious that he couldn’t do this because he doesn’t know a single thing about me. I shake the pen when my hand begins to tremble, pretending that it’s running out of ink.
Surprisingly, Cara hasn’t said a word since we arrived. I was certain she’d try to talk me out of it, or maybe she understands that I’ve had enough of people telling me what to do to last a lifetime. I know she feels the same way. She has to understand that our paths are different, despite them leading us to the same place.
“That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” the clerk says, and Nate opens his wallet, laying cash on the counter before I can speak up and tell him that I don’t have any money.
My grandparents were gracious enough to buy my bus ticket, booking it online and giving me a ride to the bus station, but that had more to do with making sure I actually left than generosity.
I have no money. No means to live.
It hits me like a freight train that I’m going to be completely reliant on this man.
No, I can’t do that. I vow to get a job the second we’re done. Maybe I can convince him to take me around to some of the grocery stores or fast-food places to put in applications before going back to the clubhouse for the ridiculous reception that woman wanted to throw.
The paperwork is returned, the receipt handed back to Nate.
“Where do we go now?” he asks.
“For what?” the clerk returns, looking genuinely confused.
“To get married.”
“Do you have an officiant?” she asks, and Nate shakes his head.
“Who do you recommend?”
She gives him a smile that makes me wonder if she’s thinking she’d like to marry him. I frown, causing her to clear her throat and look down at some paperwork.
“When were you planning the ceremony?”
“Today.”
“Today?” She laughs like he’s just told a funny joke. “You’re serious?”
“Of course. I’d never joke about something like this.”
“Well,” she looks down again, “we have the schedule for everyone legally able in San Juan County, and no one is available today.”
“Thank goodness,” my sister mutters from behind us.
Nate’s jaw ticks. “No one?”
She shakes her head. “It’s late afternoon on a Friday. The earliest you can get married here is looking like Wednesday of next week.”
My chin begins to quiver. That’s five days away. He’ll come to his senses before then.