The judge is all smiles, with ruddy cheeks and thick white hair. “Marcy,” he says, speaking to the clerk. “I think these two are the youngest I’ve had this month.”
She doesn’t look up from her desk but smiles all the same. “I think you’re right, Judge Morris.”
We turn to face each other, like two kids playing pretend, and it reminds me too much of when we were little and imagining scenarios that we were much too young for.
“I’ll just go through the vows with you,” Judge Morris says. “Then if you’re planning on it, you’ll exchange rings, and Mateo, our courthouse photographer—”
“Rings!” I gasp.
“Don’t worry, baby.” The pet name rolls off his tongue and the arch of his brow is entirely too smug. “I remembered them both.”
“Oh.” I turn to the judge. “Okay, sorry.”
Judge Morris chuckles. “Just goes to show what a good match you both are. My Delilah was always trailing behind me, remembering all the things that would fall out of my head.”
As the judge reminisces, the silence between us grows deep enough to fill a chasm.
With glasses sitting on the tip of his nose, Judge Morris begins. “People of the court, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of two souls in the bonds of matrimony. Bennett Andrew Graves—” He glances down at Bennett. “OftheGraves family?”
“That’s the one,” Bennett says.
The judge chuckles again and winks at me. “Lucky girl.”
Bennett’s dimples deepen as he takes my hands in his. “Oh, sir, it’smewho’s the lucky one.”
“Of course, of course,” Judge Morris says with a grin. “Let’s see here… ah, yes. Bennett Andrew Graves and Clover Rowan Walsh.Marriage is a serious, honorable matter. It should not be entered into lightly.” He peers down at the two of us standing as far apart as possible while still holding hands. “I trust the two of you have taken the time to determine what marriage means to you, and that you stand before this court ready to offer each other a lifelong commitment based on love, trust, and respect?”
Bennett’s throat works up and down as he gives one assured nod.
“Yes,” I whisper, despite the distinct feeling that I am in danger of being sent to the principal’s office or combusting into flames from lying in a courtroom.
What the hell are we even doing? I’m eighteen years old. Bennett is nineteen, turning twenty in just a few weeks. We have no business getting married. I don’t even know what all the dials on the washing machine do. I count two Uncrustables as a balanced meal. I get nervous walking into a bank by myself.
I hardly comprehend the rest of the brief ceremony.
Faintly, I hear Bennett clear his throat and say, “I do.”
“Clo?” he asks.
Then Marianne chimes in. “Clover? Sweetie?”
I blink. Once. Twice. And then look up from my black patent- leather platform Mary Janes and the sheer white socks I paired them with.
“Your turn,” Bennett says with an unsteady smile.
“Right.” A nervous laugh bubbles up like a spate of hiccups. “I do.”
“And the rings?” Judge Morris asks.
Why do I feel like I’m lying to my sweet old grandpa right now? I don’t even have a sweet old grandpa. Mom’s dad is dead, and my dad’s… well, he’s even more of a mystery than my father himself.
From his slacks pocket, Bennett takes a smooth gold ring that isas thick as the band on a cigar. I can hear myself saying the words, repeating after Judge Morris. My hands holding Bennett’s, his long fingers smooth and manicured, the wedding ring on his left and his family ring on his right, a G in an ornate script intertwined with a smaller B and A.
Then, he pulls my left hand closer and slides a slightly too-big ring on my finger, but that’s not what I’m concerned with. What concerns me is the oval diamond framed in gold on a thin, delicate band.
Instinctively, I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned, but Bennett doesn’t give me any space and instead leans toward me and whispers into my ear, “Calm down. It isn’t real.”
I nod and give him a weary smile. It’s fake. Just like this whole marriage, but that’s fine because this unholy union is about to provide me with some very real on-campus housing.
