Fear.
And I can’t afford that right now.
Because if she hesitates—if she pulls away—fuck.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to let her go again.
Scratch that. I definitely won’t let her go.
So, I can’t give her the option.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
I open the door.
And I lead her inside.
“Welcome to the Little Rock Chapel!”
The woman behind the counter is impossible to miss—bright orange hair piled high, lipstick to match, eyes sharp and knowing like she’s seen every version of love walk through these doors.
“Benji,” Esme hisses softly, her fingers tightening in mine.
I ignore her.
Because if I stop now—if I think—I might second-guess.
And I don’t want to think.
I want to do.
“We’ll take the Get Wed Quick package,” I tell the woman.
Her grin widens.
“Oh, honey,” she says, clapping her hands once, “you are in for a treat! Come on then, let’s see those IDs and sign some papers—as long as you’re quick with the words and longer in the sheets, am I right, honey?”
Esme lets out a weak laugh beside me.
I don’t.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out my ID without hesitation.
My other hand moves automatically—finding her purse, opening it, retrieving hers like I’ve done it a hundred times before.
Because I have.
Because that’s what we were.
A unit.
A team.
A married couple.
Whether the law recognized it or not.
