“Don’t you dare tell her Phoebe said that,” Chloe says.
“Scouts honor.” I grin.
I glance at her, and it hits me—my life shifted on a dime. The Department of Revenue upended it; Chloe transformed it again. It feels both exhilarating and terrifying.
“I feel really underdressed,” I say, gesturing at my clothes. “Are you sure this is alright? I couldn’t find a suit in the closet.”
She laughs. “You’re not a suit-and-tie type.”
Definitely true.
This sports coat and jeans are more formal than I’ve gone in years. My go-to is usually a dark knit sweater over plaid, sleeves rolled, best jeans, and snow boots.
Farmer formal, I guess.
But I can’t stop sneaking glances at Chloe. Everything about her is a level-up from how she looks every day, like someone waved a wand and enhanced her natural beauty: darker lashes, brighter eyes, glossy, berry-colored lips.
She was beautiful then; she’s devastating now.
“I didn’t ask before, but are we… taking pictures? Do they need them for the license? Or do we need them for some proof?”
She flips down the visor, fingers combing her hair.
“No, nothing like that. It’s not a green-card thing,” I joke, touching her forearm. The contact zings. “I thought some pictures around the house would help. Phoebe thinks this is real. Shouldn’t we encourage that?”
She stills, blush blooming. “You thought about that?”
I pull my hand back to the wheel. “You’re a photographer. It makes sense to document something like this…right?”
Now I’m concerned I misread the situation. I saw all the photos around her apartment. If we weretrulyin love and having a winter elopement—that’s what Abby called it—we’d have pictures.
“It does.” A small smile. “Honestly, I hadn’t even thought of photos. And that’s not like me at all. It’s usually the first thing I’d think of.”
“Is that why your gear’s in the back seat?” I nod toward it.
“Laugh all you want. I was going to offer new pictures of Harper’s shop. I update small-business photos a lot—it’s a barter thing. She’s doing us a favor by doing this on a holiday. And I don’t believe in getting anything for free, so I offer what I have: talent.”
Of course, she would.
Part of me aches at the way she can’t seem to just…exist. Someone could hand her the keys to a castle, and she’d ask what she needs to do to keep it. I wish I could shoulder her burdens for her, just for a moment, to let her breathe.
The other part wishes this were real, so it would never occur to her to barter in the first place.
“I’ll make sure there’s time,” I say. “But don’t treat our wedding like work.”
She goes quiet for a minute, plucking at the fabric of her dress.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” I nod. “And Harper doesn’t know this is fake, right?”
She shakes her head.
“What if we reframe this for a second?”
Her eyes flick to me, and I glance over at her, noting the uncertainty swirling in them. “What do you mean?”
“This is for the lawyers, right? Other people who don’t even know us.”
