Page 16 of Saint

“When do you intend for us to do this?” Finally, she asked the question that would lead us to progress.

“Tomorrow. We can go to the courthouse as soon as I get an officiator on the line.”

Panic obliterated her features. Already, her mind was racing to remedy the bomb I’d dropped on her. The woman was a damn busy beaver. She shifted around on the bed with a glazed-over countenance before those chocolate rounds met me again. “I need a dress. My hair isn’t done. My makeup…” she fussed.

Uncontrolled, my eyes orbited their sockets. “It’s not a real marriage. You can wear those fucking pajamas for all I care,” I clipped, motioning to what she was wearing. She reeled her head back, and it was then that I realized my mistake.

“I know it’s not real, Saint!” She fussed, scowling her disdain. “But I’m a fashion designer. People Google me. Soon, this will be public information, and I’ve never been married. I need pictures for my memory and to share online. You need a proper tux or suit. Don’t you dare think you’re wearing that,” she motioned with a disgusted grimace to my shorts and tee shirt. “Eventually, this will be in social media news! Wear pajamas? Seriously? Have you lost your rabid-assed mind?”

Instinctively, my toes curled as her voice elevated.

“Aight. Okay,” I furnished, easing out of the room with my hands raised in surrender. I didn’t do confrontation or… whatever the hell this was. It triggered my sensory overload. Exiting before I found myself the target of a full-blown explosion, I backed out until I was in the hallway.

“Write out a list, and I’ll have someone grab everything.”

Victoria spent the entire morning being tended to. A stylist was summoned to do her hair. She’d ordered several dresses to be delivered from her warehouse – all white in color. Her birth certificate and other documents were retrieved from her home in South Pointe to obtain a new license bearing my last name. By the time she was finished with everything, it was much later than I cared to be leaving the house, but whatever.

We headed downtown, warring against the lunchtime traffic to reach the courthouse. Once inside, we exchanged weightless vows in front of a reverend.

To have and to hold.

In sickness and in health.

Till a million do us part…

With a flourish, we signed the marriage certificate, and it was finished. She was Victoria Miller. Void of deep feelings, it was all very surgical. Inwardly, I vowed never to repeat such a farce.

It’s done.

I typed out the text and sent it to my father before hastily shoving my phone into my pocket. At his age, he wasn’t a big texter, preferring to hold conversations in person or over the phone. The lack of a response was expected.

“Can we go to the library?” Victoria asked, breaking me away from my thoughts and pointing across the street to the massive historical building. It was misty and overcast outside, giving the spring air a deeper than usual chill. This was the perfect time to crawl under a blanket and sleep. Home was where my heart rested, not amongst stuffy old books.

“I’m tired, Beauty.”

I was. It had been a long ass three days. Most of it was spent scoping out the beach on Komodo Island and waiting for Javier to make his appearance. My family needed me to come through with my unique set of skills to ensure the success of the mission, and I did. Now, all I craved was to make love to my bed and give my head to the pillows.

“We won’t be long. I promise.”

Like an eager toddler, she grabbed my hand and tugged, sending a shock of energy through me.

“The library? For what?” Mildly annoyed and confused, I questioned if I’d made a mistake. She’d only been my wife for five minutes and was already latching on to my nerves.

“Pictures. They have a nice, antique-looking seating area. I think it will look good as a backdrop.”

“Oka–”

Before that word was out of my mouth, Victoria was rushing across the street, one hand clasped over the red beret she wore and another hand gripping the eucalyptus bouquet she’d brought along.

Swiftly, I marched behind her, kissing my teeth and shaking my head. When we made it inside, she froze, taking in the surroundings and securing her target.

“It’s much darker in here than I expected. You’ll need to use your flash,” she instructed, walking over to an empty window near a red accent chair. She positioned herself against the wall at an angle and motioned me to stand where she wanted me. Lifting the phone to capture the photo, I hastened my thumb over the capture button.

“Wait! Is the flash on? It’s dark in here.”

“Victoria.” My inflection made my annoyance clear as I blinked slowly.

“Okay. One serious and one smiling. With the flash, Saint!”

---