His eyebrows knit together, then shoot up toward his hairline.
“What do you mean? We’re what?” he practically shouts.
There’s a long pause as he listens, his eyes growing wider by the second. He looks at me, then quickly away, then back at me.
“That can’t be right. We just met. Well, reconnected. We knew each other in college, but?—”
Another pause.
“Digital signatures are legally binding? But we didn’t—I mean, clicking ‘agree’ could leave some room for interpretation ...”
There’s an unpleasant churning inside. Whatever the lawyer is saying, it can’t be good.
“Okay. Yeah. Send me the documents. Thanks.” Fletch ends the call and stares at his phone as if it’s a lump of coal.
Trepidation curls inside like a ribbon. “What did he say?”
Fletch takes a deep breath, then meets my eyes. “My lawyer said this was the most interesting case he’d taken in a while and that includes the karaoke thing. Anyway, he looked into it further, and the contract we signed with the Heartland Happily Ever After service isn’t just an agreement to date. It’s ... a bit more binding than that.”
“How much more binding?” My voice rises an octave.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Apparently, the fine print states that by accepting the match and meeting in person, we’ve entered into a ...”
“Contract. Yes, that was established.”
“Yes, but there is more.”
I lean in, unsure if “by more” he means they’ve arranged dates for us like on a reality TV show or if we have to face a Christmas-themed, game-show-like challenge.
“Bree, we’ve entered into amaritalcontract.”
I stare at him, blinking as if the concept does not compute.
“We’re legally married.” He says it so matter-of-factly that for a moment I think he’s joking.
I shake my head. “That’s not possible. People can’t just get married by clicking ‘I agree’ on a website.”
“Within the Cobbiton jurisdiction and per the Heartland Happily Ever After policy, they, er, we can. According to my lawyer, about twenty years ago, the county pushed through a local ordinance to ‘revitalize traditional values through modernmeans’ or something. The matchmaking service operates under that law.”
“That can’t be legal.”
He shrugs. “The lawyer confirmed that it is.”
“State law supersedes local ordinances.”
This time, he shakes his head. “I’m afraid not in this instance.”
I say, “We can make Mayor Nishimura undo it.”
He nods as if that’s a lofty idea. “But in the meantime ...”
Sipping air as if through a straw, I finish his thought, “In the meantime, as far as Cobbiton is concerned, we’re married.”
The fact hangs between us like a mountain covered in snow, immovable and unscalable.
“So now what?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.
I expect him to look as horrified as I feel. Instead, a slow, lopsided smile spreads across his face—the same cocky and confident one I remember from college.
