Not mine.
Not yet.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
The woman reached up, tucking some of her red hair behind her ear, likely not liking the look on my face.
But she made her smile stretch wider, even though it was no longer meeting her eyes.
“Are you here to pick up your package?”
“My… package?”
“Why, yes, Mr. Valentine splurged for our super deluxe package.”
“Super deluxe package?”
“Yes, of course!” God, how was she so chipper? “It included witnesses, a bouquet—though, you didn’t need that, not with that gorgeous one you brought with you!”
We brought flowers with us?
That was very premeditated, wasn’t it?
But, then again, so were the rings, if we’d gotten them before, not after, like I’d assumed.
I was hoping it had been a literal spur-of-the-moment thing, not something we’d discussed beforehand.
“And there was the videography and ten candid ceremony photos!”
Geez.
There was actualfootageof this crime?
“You two were just in such a hurry to, well, anyone could guess,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eye. “And you forgot to look at the footage.”
“Oh, right. Actually, I need to speak to a manager. Or supervisor. Or… someone in charge. Immediately.”
“Oh,” she said, mouth going into a pout. Like maybe she knew what this was about. Like maybe this happened often. “Okay, well, Johnny isn’t in yet. But he will be soon. I could set you up to check out your footage while you wait, if you want. You two were so sweet.”
Her eyes actually went dreamy.
Had we been that cute?
Or was this woman just delusional about the ‘love stories’ that walked through her doors?
Either way, my curiosity was a little piqued. If I saw the footage, maybe it would knock some more memories free of the night before.
“Alright,” I agreed, sounding about as enthusiastic as I’d be about a root canal.
“Okay, come on, right this way. Oh! I remember that ring!” she said, coming out from behind the desk. “It’s even prettier than I remembered.”
She snatched up my hand to look at the ring for a moment before bustling forward toward the hall.
I followed, glancing at all the canvas prints on the walls, wondering how many of these supposedly happy couples were still married.
“Here we are,” the lady said, opening the door to an office and ushering me inside.
It was a small, tidy space with a desk empty save for the desktop computer.
