Page 13 of Ropers Can't Tie Knots
“Do I think he’d force me to get married, which I never wanted, because he thinks it will make me miserable just to receive the money? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“If you don’t get married, what happens to the trust?”
“Oh, get this…it goes to the Broken Rainbow.”
Jackson’s mouth drops open.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus, he was a real piece of work. Make you miserable being married or make all our lives miserable because he funds a bullshit straight-rights group.” Jackson’s hand curls into a fist. “That group isn’t a charity. They spread hate everywhere and are actively lobbying the government to repeal everything we fought for. Hunter, please tell me you won’t let that happen.”
Jackson didn’t have to point out everything my grandfather did. It kept me awake most of the night already. I thought of my friends here in Kissing Ridge, especially Riley and Jackson. Rileyplans same sex weddings, and that enriches his life in ways I can’t understand because romance was never my thing.
Weddings are enormous expenses just to say two words in front of hundreds of people you barely send Christmas greetings to, and it’s never appealed to me. But that sort of thing makes many people happy.
Including the two men or women who might be there, not just because they love each other, but because it was something we had to fight for. It’s a statement, and I could never live with myself if I was part of the reason the basic right was taken away.
“No, Jack. I don’t want that to happen. But I don’t know how to not have it happen. That’s why I called you.”
We sip our coffee in silence for a moment, and I don’t really know how the hell I can just marry someone and parade them around to have funds released.
“I have an idea,” Jackson says.
“Tell me.”
Jackson chews at his lip and leans forward, dropping his voice like we’re planning a bank robbery and not finding me a fake husband.
“Gabe. You should marry Gabe.” Jackson rushes on. “He already lives at your place. He’s a lawyer, and he’ll make sure you don’t break the rules of the will, and he’ll definitely support the reason for not forfeiting funds to Broken Rainbow.”
As far as ideas go, it’s not the worst one.
“You think he’d go for it?”
Jackson grins. “Only way to find out is to get a ring and ask.”
He chuckles a little, and I do, too, because me proposing is just ridiculous…but it makes sense. It also gives me hives, but it makes sense.
“I’ll talk to him tonight.”
After I left Jackson, I stopped at the jewellery store downtown.
Ring prices were…something. After trying to be polite by asking vague questions, I finally just asked the girl for the cheapest ring they had. A $149 thin gold band now sits in a box in my pocket in what possibly is the biggest twilight zone moment of my life.
If Jackson is right, Gabe will agree this is a great idea and we’ll arrange a date to get our marriage licence and walk over to the courthouse as soon as it’s in hand. We’ll submit the proof to the trustee for the clock to start and meet up again in three months.
I feel hopeful for the first time since the old bastard died. This battle with lawyers and wills might finally have an end in sight. Which, if I’m honest, has been more stress than I could handle. I was close to breaking a few times, and now, with some resolution, it’s like I can breathe again.
By the time I came home and fed the animals, it was late, but they didn’t give me too much shit for it. Even Lewis. He accepted the carrot I threw his way, and I lingered along the fence, watchinghim eat it with his little paws and chubby cheeks. Such a funny little animal.
The nerves don’t hit me until after I’ve showered and started dinner. I don’t even know Gabe’s schedule. We didn’t have time to talk about any of that, but he’s a lawyer in Kissing Ridge. He can’t work that late… can he?
The ring in my pocket feels like a bomb, and I just want this over and done with. I’m almost positive proposals shouldn’t make people feel like the world is about to end, but maybe if you’re in love, it’s completely different.
The front door opens while I’m chopping carrots for the steamer, and I hold my breath for Gabe to announce he’s home.
“It smells amazing in here. I should pay extra for you to be my chef,” he jokes as he loosens the tie at his neck.
My palms sweat, and I wipe them on my jeans and attempt a smile.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asks with a tilt to his head.
