"Seamus O'Malley, do you take Rosanna Lopez to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
The judge is waiting. Rosanna is watching me with wide eyes, her hands still trembling slightly at her sides.
I think about the contract—the protections, the boundaries, the clear terms that make this bearable for both of us.
"I do," I say.
Judge Whitmore turns to Rosanna, and I watch her face as she hears the same impossible question.
"Rosanna Lopez, do you take Seamus O'Malley to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
There's a pause. Brief, but noticeable. I see her swallow hard, see the war happening behind her eyes.
She could still say no.
Could still walk out.
The contract protects her even if she changes her mind right now. But then her chin lifts slightly and I see that same determination I saw at the community meeting.
"I do." Her voice is quiet but clear.
"The rings, please," Judge Whitmore says.
Tessa steps forward with a small velvet box. Inside are two simple platinum bands. They are nothing elaborate, nothing personal. Standard ERS provision, probably. They look expensive but impersonal, like everything else about this ceremony.
I take Rosanna's ring first. She shifts her bag with her sketchbook and extends her left hand.
I take her hand gently, carefully, acutely aware of how small it feels in mine. Her skin is warm and soft. When my fingers close around hers to steady them, there is that jolt again. That spark of electricity I felt the first time we touched.
I slide the ring onto her finger slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to.
She watches the band settle into place like she's witnessing something surreal and slightly terrifying. The ring fits perfectly.
Then it's her turn. She takes my ring with unsteady hands and reaches for me. I offer my left hand, and when she takes it, her touch is feather-light.
She slides the band onto my finger, and I feel the cool metal settle against my skin.
The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh, but I keep my expression neutral.
Rosanna's hands are still shaky as she pulls back. I catch her eye, and for just a second, I see past the fear to something else.
Judge Whitmore smiles at us both. "By the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Husband and wife. The words settle over the room like a weight. I'm married. Officially and legally married to Rosanna Lopez. The woman who stood up at a community meeting and challenged everything my company was doing.
The woman I can't stop thinking about.
"Congratulations," Judge Whitmore says warmly, as if we're a real couple starting a real life together. "Please sign here."
We move to the table where the marriage certificate is laid out. She sets the sketchbook down beside it, but keeps one hand resting on top. I pick up the pen and sign my name in the designated space.
Rosanna does the same.
Tessa and another ERS staff member step forward to sign as witnesses. Their signatures are quick and practiced. They've done this before, probably dozens of times. To them, this is just another contract. Another couple navigating an unconventional arrangement. They have no idea what this cost us to get here.
Judge Whitmore adds her signature last, then looks up with that same warm smile. "All set. You're officially married."
Married.
