Hope was such a sticky thing. And it was sneaky too. Always showing up in the moments it was least welcome.
Noah parked in an underground garage. Without looking at me, he asked, “You’re sure you want to do this?”
What the hell am I doing? Why the hell am I doing this?“Are you?”
He closed his fingers around the keys, nodded. “Fair enough.”
We walked out of the garage and up to the street where the sun was blinding, and thick, oppressive heat seemed trapped between the buildings without anywhere to go. Thank god I’d opted for a short romper with an air vent. I would’ve wilted otherwise.
Noah brought his hand to my back, steering me away from the curb. “It’s up here,” he said, the words tight. He must’ve been sweltering in that suit.
He led me down the street, that hand never far from my back, and into an old building with a gray granite façade. It was blessedly cool in here, and quiet too. As if we were the only people in the world who could think of marriage on a day like today. He pointed me toward a door at the end of a long hallway and my sandals snapped against the stone floors, fracturing the air-conditioned stillness.
Noah held the door open for me, saying, “Last chance to change your mind.”
“Hardly. There are at least ten more opportunities to run out of here like my pants are on fire. This is just the first of the final chances.”
“Not sure if that’s supposed to reassure me”—he shifted his hand to the exposed skin where the romper cut out, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric—“or make me hold on tighter.”
This guy really needed to stop with all these comments. I was not built to withstand such things, especially not while our marriage was very fake and my attraction to him was becoming very real. Not that I would ever act on that attraction. There was no way we could complicate our lives any further.
“Reassure.” I said this but I didn’t step away from his touch. “I swear, I won’t run off. First, it’s too hot to run and I wouldn’t get far in these shoes, but also, I’d never do that to someone. I don’t believe in walking away and leaving without an explanation. I’d have the most awful, uncomfortable conversation of my life before doing that.”
“Good to know.” He glanced inside the office. “Shall we?”
The paperwork was quick. Noah insisted on paying the license fee. We waited, glancing between an old painting of Providence and notices about upcoming election deadlines.
Since I had no idea what to say, I asked, “Is it blueberry season now? Or has that passed?”
At the same moment, Noah asked, “How long will it take to get the classroom ready?”
We forced brittle laughs and motioned at each other to go ahead, which resulted in another forced laugh.
“Your classroom,” he said, ending this standoff.
“I’ll be busy for a few days,” I said. “But it will be okay. I’ll get it done.”
“I’d offer to send Gennie to help but I’m not sure I could talk her into going to school when it’s not required. Even if it means spending time with you.”
“Let’s not subject her to that.” I clasped my hands in front of me. “So, those blueberries?”
“Blueberry season is over for the year. We’re doing peaches, melons, and early season apples. And quince. Quince is big.”
“What…is quince, exactly?”
He dipped a hand into his pocket and gave a bashful grin. “It looks like a pear. Green skin, golden-yellow fruit, seeds on the inside. Tart. Super tart. No one eats it raw. Great for jams though. Exceptional for balancing sweetness and adding dimension.”
“Quince.” I said it slowly. “Sounds like a jam good time.”
Noah’s eyes creased as he chuckled. “Still want to marry me now that I’ve outed myself as a quince enthusiast?”
“Still want to marry me now that I’ve started with jam puns?”
Noah began to respond but a door opened, our names called. He gave me half a smile. “Another last chance.”
I didn’t have a single good reason as to why I was doing this. Loads of mediocre reasons, a few flat-out bad ones. Several unreasonable ones too. But I shook my head and motioned for him to follow me.
The ceremony was remarkably fast. Without the bells and whistles of a full wedding production, there wasn’t much to it. Flash some identification, answer some questions, say “I do” a few times, and that was it. That was the whole thing.
