"I always have one with me."
He nods like he understands, though I'm not sure he does.
How could someone whose life is all boardrooms and balance sheets understand the need for something tactile and creative to anchor yourself when everything feels like it's spinning out of control?
We stand in awkward silence for a moment. The judge is shuffling papers at the front of the room, organizing for the next ceremony.
Tessa hovers nearby, giving us space but ready to step in if needed.
The first couple is called. I recognize the woman as a famous singer. Up close, the couple looks less polished and more human.
“Please join hands.”
They hesitate.
Just a second.
Then their fingers touch.
Not intertwined. Just barely connected.
Seamus leans over to me. "Are you nervous?"
I look at him sharply. "Are you?"
"Yes." The admission surprises me. "This is... not what I expected my wedding day to look like."
"Conference Room B. Very romantic."
That almost gets me to smile. "I don't think romance is part of our contract."
"No. Just mutual benefit and clear boundaries." I cross my arms, suddenly feeling defensive. "Which is fine. Better, actually. Romance complicates things."
"It can."
At the front of the room, the judge pauses.
“I do,” the man says, steady and immediate.
The judge shifts to the woman, repeating her question.
The singer swallows. Then: “I do.”
Her voice shakes.
But Seamus isn't watching the couple.
Seamus is watching me with that intense, unreadable expression I remember from our first meeting. "For what it's worth, I meant what I said. About the protections. About respecting your autonomy. I won't—"
"Take advantage of me. I know." I cut him off, not unkindly. "You put it in writing. Multiple times. I believe you."
He looks almost relieved. "Good."
The next couple is called forward. The woman with the rhinestone purse and the fiancé who keeps checking his watch like this is running long.
The judge starts her process again.
Seamus leans over again. "I'm glad you came."
