“Okay.” He holds his palms up, projecting peace. “I’m sorry I said that. I just think finding a good partner, getting married, and starting a family is the best thing a person can do with their life.”
Oh, boy. He’s one ofthosekinds of men.
Why did Sam have to find me a doe-eyed guy for this arrangement?
At least he referred to both genders. I might’ve called the whole thing off if he’d said, ‘Getting married and starting a family is the best thing awomancan do with their life.’
“So is that why you agreed to this arrangement?” I ask. “You believe that getting married is the best thing you can do at twenty-one?”
“I’m twenty-two and no.” His glare flattens. “I’m just saying I disagree about how you paint marriage. To me, it’s a meaningful partnership that, when done right, can bring us our greatest joy in life.”
“Listen, if you think this little arrangement will bring you joy?—”
“No.” He holds up his hands again, stopping me. “What we’re doing today is strictly business. But someday, I want the real thing. I want a happy marriage and children. It’s my biggest goal in life. Just not right now. So you don’t have to worry. I’m not ready to get married for real anytime soon. I can make the six years without needing to get married to someone else.”
“Good.” I sit up taller. “Then we’re on the same page.”
“Not exactly, but close enough for today.”
“We should go.” I tap my phone to check the time. “We need to meet the pastor at the church in thirty minutes.”
“Why a church? Shouldn’t we do a courthouse instead? It’s less personal.”
“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is my curiosity over who I’m marrying bothering you?”
I heave out a breath. “I chose a church over the courthouse because I thought a real church with a real pastor would be more believable to my father.”
“Makes sense, I guess. Let’s go, then.” Harrison scoots out of the booth. “We wouldn’t want to miss our own wedding.”
No, we would not.
I have too much riding on this.
I should have saidyes when the pastor’s wife asked if I wanted to hold a bouquet of flowers as I walked down the aisle. Iloveflowers. In any other situation, I’d never turn them down, but I was cocky, thinking I didn’t need the traditional wedding symbol—it’s enough that I’m wearing a white dress. But now I have nothing to do with my hands. They swing aimlessly at my sides as I speed-walk down the aisle to “Canon in D” piping through the speakers. None of this ‘step together, step’ crap. I’m making good time.
Sam points a phone at me as I pass. He’s not just our witness. He’s our videographer and photographer in case Glen wants more proof than just the wedding certificate.
I stop at Harrison’s side and face the pastor. He’s an older man with graying hair and kind eyes. I bet you couldn’t find a man of God who didn’t have kind eyes.
He steps in front of us on a dais about five feet away and looks out to the crowd, which only consists of his wife and Sam. I’m sure if the church were a full house, his position on the step above us would be perfect. But today, in the empty chapel, the pastor seems miles away.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the presence of these witnesses, to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a sacred covenant given by God for the blessing and support of husband and wife, and for the joy and stability of family life.” I refrain from rolling my eyes. Nothing in my life makes marriage seem sacred. “It is to be entered into reverently, thoughtfully, and in the fear of God.”
Oh geez. I’m totally going to Hell for this.
“Mawwage,” Harrison whispers beside me with a perfect lisp. “Mawwage is wot bwings us togeder today.”
I side-eye him, trying to make it seem like I’m still paying attention to the pastor’s blessing. “Are you quotingThe Princess Bride?”
Harrison’s face stays even, and his focus remains forward. “Mawwage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam. And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva.”
I roll my lips together, desperately trying to hide my smile, though the pastor seems oblivious. But also, I’m grateful for the comic relief. There are a lot of competing emotions swirling around in my chest that I’d love to ignore right now. His distraction is everything.
The pastor bows his head. “Amen.”
“Amen,” we say in reverent unison, even though we’re being anything but reverent.
