Page 44 of Only You and Me

“Joe might help.”

I lift my brow and cock my head, waiting for her to say more.

“What? He said if Guy gave me any trouble to reach out. Joe knows his dad. I could get you his number from his card on the corkboard at the station, and you can call him. Or I can.”

“No. I will.” My words come out more clipped than I intend. My jaw clenches at the thought of her talking to the attractive man who interrupted our dance on Valentine’s Day.

Trina smiles. “You sound like a jealous husband, and we don’t even know if we’re really married,” she jests.

I peer down at the tablet and try not to let the frown threatening to make an appearance do so. “I guess now is as good a time as any to find out. You ready?”

* * *

TRINA

Ben and I both fix our gazes on the spinning circle on his tablet. It takes forever as it attempts to pull up the search for our names on the vital statistics website for the county we may have gotten married in.

“So, are you going to Annie’s bridal shower this afternoon?” Ben asks, clearly trying to fill the awkward silence.

“Yep.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there. I’m picking up my dad and brothers-in-law to take them to O’Riley’s for a guy’s afternoon.”

I’m too stressed to even respond to him, and I don’t take my eyes off the tablet.

Come on. How long does it take to load?

As if it heard my thought, our “case” pops up on the screen.

I turn to Ben. “Ready?” My voice cracks and he simply nods in response.

After I press the screen to open the case, we both watch as the display changes. And when I narrow my eyes on the spot I’ve looked at a million times over the last few weeks, my heart pounds in my rib cage as I see there is now a filed date under the marriage license category that used to say “pending.”

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

“D-does that mean we’re really married?”

I turn to look at Ben. “I think it does.” As I watch his face for a few seconds, searching for panic or regret, I see none. “I need something to drink.” I practically leap out of my chair and head to the kitchen.

After grabbing a clean glass, I fill it with tap water and guzzle half of it down. My mouth and throat are as dry as the Sahara Desert. After topping it off again, I can’t bring myself to go back to the table yet. Instead, I head out to the back porch and climb onto the glider, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging myself.

About five minutes later, the creaking of the screen door alerts me that Ben is coming out to the porch. He sits down on the opposite end of the glider, careful to give me physical space.

“Are you okay?” The kindness and concern in his voice are almost overwhelming.

“I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t believe it really happened. But it did.”

Ben clears his throat. “What do you want to do?” Ben’s voice trembles and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it do that before.

I turn my gaze upon him. “What do you mean? What choice do we have? I think we have to get a … I think we have to fix it.”

I watch as hurt flashes over his face, and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his eyes are misty. “Would it be so bad?” he whispers.

“What?”

“Would it be so bad if we gave it time… if we tried to make it work?”

My jaw drops open, and I’m sure my eyes are going to pop out of my head.

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