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Hell, Mr. Ricardo Ricci himself is currently turning Snooki into a couture fairy tale fever dream. And as much as I’d love to ask if there’s any chance I can replace my sunglasses, I will not interrupt this moment.

She’s in a one-of-a-kind pink princess dress she will absolutely destroy in under two weeks.

I’m only sad I won’t get to see it.

Harrison and his insufferable glare snaps back to the call. “First things first,” he says. “Is this marriage legal?”

We both hold our breath.

“We’re still confirming,” the attorney says. “Making sure every i is dotted and every t is crossed. The priest appears bona fide. Your photographer, if I can call him that, served as your witness. You were in a registered church. Vows and rings were exchanged.”

“They’re silicone,” Harrison says quickly. “He had a whole box.”

“That’s irrelevant,” the attorney replies. “Did you exchange them?”

Harrison looks at me and wiggles his fingers in the air. “Yup.”

“Perhaps,” the attorney says carefully, “we should take this off speaker. If I could speak to Mr. Evans alone. Without Mrs. Evans.”

Mrs. Evans.

The words hit me like a brick.

Without batting an eye, Harrison sets the phone squarely between us and crosses his arms.

“Anything you can say to me, you can say to Mrs. Evans.”

A small, deeply satisfied smirk curves his mouth.

Really?

We wait. The pause stretches.

“Very well,” the attorney says at last, taking a bizarrely long time before continuing.

“Hear that, Henry?” Harrison cuts in. “That’s the sound of us aging while we wait. Ask your question.”

Mr. Bloom clears his throat.

“Did the two of you consummate the marriage?”

The world tilts.

Harrison looks at me.

I look at him.

And I know he’s mentally counting how many times we consummated the marriage last night. And in how many different ways.

So much so, I feel my body clench, remembering it all.

Silence stretches.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the attorney says calmly.

Harrison swallows hard. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

“Then congratulations, kids. From what I can tell,” Mr. Bloom finishes, “you are, in fact, married.”