He’s probably right. None of them would be against the union, but my mom would insist on having a wedding rather than waiting like we discussed.
“We’ll make a trip home after it happens.”
I hum in assent. “We’re telling them together.”
No way in hell am I facing the wrath of my mom on my own. I can already imagine the hysterics that are in my future.
“I figured,” he says in that gruff way of his that has me wanting to smack him upside the head.
Some things never change.
Once we’re parked outside the courthouse, Daire parks and hops out, waiting for me to join him. “Try to act like you like me.” He slips his sunglasses off. “Think you can manage that?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve faked a million orgasms. Pretending to like you is nothing.”
“Faked. Right.” He barks out a humorless laugh.
What would he think if I told him not a single guy has ever given me an orgasm? Not once. Not even with the ones who tried to get me there until I inevitably faked it just to get things over with. The only way I’ve ever gotten off is with the help of my trusty little toy. Maybe that’s what has kept me chasing guys. The hope that, eventually, I find one who can. After so many, though, I’m thinking it’s a me problem. I’ve tried and failed so many times that I get way too in my head about it, and that certainly doesn’t help.
I trail behind him into the building. While he navigates the way and talks to the woman behind the counter, I paste on a smile and only say a word or two here and there.
I pass over every item they ask for, batting my eyes at Daire like I’msoin love with this man that I can’t bear not being married to him for another minute. I put my hand on his arm and slide it down to entwine our fingers. His hand is stiff in mine, so I give it a squeeze, a silent reminder to play along. Who is he to tell me to act like I like him when he can’t do the same? If one of us is going to give away our secret, itwon’tbe me.
When we’re done, we leave with the license in hand and another ten pounds of weight pressing down on our shoulders.
“Listen,” I say once we’re in the car, “I’ve agreed to help you out, but it’s going to be a long… who knows exactly, if we don’t at least try to be friends. I’m here. I’ll do what needs to be done. But I don’t want to waste what could be years of my life tiptoeing around you.”
With a sigh, he starts the engine. “I know.”
“And don’t tell me to fake it when you’re the one who needs to work on his game face.”
His mouth drops open. “Are you fucking kidding me? I was fine in there.”
“Fine?Fine?” I drop my head back and cackle. “I’m pretty sure the clerk was concerned that I was holding you against your will.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, perhaps I could’ve been warmer, but?—”
“Perhaps,” I scoff.
He backs out of the parking space, grumbling under his breath. “If I take you to get ice cream, will that make you feel better?”
A sudden lump rises in my throat. When we were younger, we’d always get ice cream when one of us had a bad day. I once told him that I was certain ice cream could solve any problem.
“If you’re buying, then yes.”
He scoffs. “As if you don’t have a black AMEX in your purse right now.”
I shrug, smiling. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to turn down a treat on your dime.”
Ten minutes later, I’m licking fresh strawberry ice cream from a cone and feeling like I won something, even if I’m not sure what.
5
DAIRE
A week later,I’m dressed in a pair of dress pants and button-down shirt. I’m even wearing my good shoes. I had every intention of showing up at the courthouse in jeans and a sweatshirt, but Rosie reminded me that there’s a chance we’ll be asked for photos. How ironic that I have to jump through hoops in order to establish my parental rights. Samuel.Sammy. I finally know his name. It’s not one I would have chosen, but somehow, it feels perfect.
Danielle put her husband’s name on the birth certificate, which is complicating matters. He’s certainhe’sthe father, but IknowI am.