Our signatures sit side by side. That’s all it took.
We stand there for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to do next.
Tessa hands us a folder.
“We recommend establishing residence quickly.”
That’s a clinical way to say Rosanna is moving in with me.
"We'll schedule your first public appearance for next weekend."
Public appearance. The reality of what I've agreed to settles heavier with each detail.
Tessa smiles. "Wonderful. I'll leave you both to coordinate. Congratulations again."
She leaves, taking the judge and the other staff with her, and suddenly Rosanna and I are alone in the conference room.
She's shoves the folder into the pages of her sketchbook. I'm standing three feet away, hands in my pockets, trying to look more composed than I feel.
We're married. We're alone. And neither of us knows what to say.
"So," Rosanna finally breaks the silence. "I guess... I should give you my phone number? Since we're married and all."
The absurdity of it hits me. We're legally bound to each other and we don't even have each other's phone number.
"Yes. That would be a good first step."
We exchange phones, and I type in my cell and work numbers and my email.
When she hands my phone back, I see she's listed herself asRosanna - wife.I almost smile.
I hand her phone back. She glances at the screen and something flickers across her face.
I listed myself asSeamus - husband.
"I should go," she says quietly. "Luna is waiting outside. I need to... process. And pack. And figure out how to explain this to people who aren't ERS staff."
"When should I expect you?" The question comes out more formal than I intended. Like I'm scheduling a business meeting instead of asking when my wife plans to move in.
"Is tomorrow too soon?"
"Tomorrow is fine." I pause. "I'll send you my address. And the building access codes. And... anything else you need."
She nods, clutching the sketchbook to her chest like a shield. "Okay. Tomorrow then."
She turns to leave, and I watch her walk toward the door. She's almost gone when I hear myself speak. "Rosanna."
She stops, turning back. "Yes?"
I should say something reassuring. Something that acknowledges the enormity of what we just did. Something that makes this feel less like a business transaction and more like... I don't know. Something human.
Instead, what comes out is: "I'll make sure your suite is ready."
Something flickers in her eyes.
"Thank you." Then she's gone, the door closing softly behind her.
I stand alone in Conference Room B, married and wearing a ring that still feels foreign on my finger.
