He dutifully types it in and then hands it over for me to read. “I added one last clause.”
“What is it?”
“Our marriage is over the day I get my inheritance. Not a second before.”
“What if it takes a year?”
“It won’t.”
“But what if?”
“Then,” he shrugs, “you’ll be stuck with me for a year.”
What the hell am I doing?
“Trust me, I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that too.”
I scan the document, my stomach rumbling with nerves.
I’ve come this far.
Might as well…
“Okay. Looks good.”
“We’ll sign this along with the marriage license.”
I nod nervously.
Brogan sends me another questioning look.
I swallow my panic and sink down into my seat.
It’ll all be fine. It’s fine. We’re fine.
My internal reassurances do little to ease the anxiety coursing through my veins. By the time we touch down and head to the Marriage License Bureau, I’m a puddle of nerves.
When we walk out of the building an hour later, I realize we’re one step closer to making things official.
Brogan squints, shading his eyes from the sun as we watch all the neon signs inviting us in.
“There are so many options,” I say, scanning the variety.
Do people really just fly here and get married in one day? It feels so… shallow.
Not that I’m one to judge.
Particularly since I’m here to do that very thing.
“Have any special requests?” Brogan asks.
His voice is quiet.
His eyes are searching mine.
I can tell that he’s trying to be as accommodating as possible, but I’m pretty sure it’s too little, too late. If he were all that worried about me, he wouldn’t have used mom’s phone call last night as leverage to get my name on that marriage license.
“No Elvis.”