Page 12 of Where Happiness Begins
Just as I feel that telltale tightening in my throat that precedes tears, I spot a figure walking my way, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. I blink up and cough once, hoping I can sound normal by the time I have to speak to him.
“Hey,” Carter says as he reaches me under the porch.
“Hey. Ready to get hitched?”
He doesn’t answer, his tight line of a mouth turning into a frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“We’re getting married in twenty minutes. I think it’s too late to bullshit me.”
My expression twists into the sad smile I was initially wearing. “I just wish my father were here. That’s all.”
There. Now he can’t fault me for being a liar.
His frown doesn’t go anywhere. “We can call him and wait if you want.”
Somehow, that’s the last thing I expected to hear from him, and that small gentleness is enough to make me feel slightly better about today.
“He’s not that kind of absent,” I say, my voice catching on the last word. “But thanks anyway.”
He seems to get it because he doesn’t insist, only nodding once.
Well, this day got strangely emotional. I inhale, then let my shoulders drop as I release the air. “Still not backing out?”
“I don’t know how many times you’re going to ask me this.”
I roll my eyes. “This one’s the last, I promise.” After that, it’ll be too late.
“I’m good,” he grunts. “You?”
“I’m good.” Now that my head’s clearer, I take the time to study him. He’s wearing a white dress shirt tucked into clean slacks, and his polished shoes look brand new. I won’t lie, I love that he made an effort. Even if this isn’t a real marriage, I couldn’timagine wearing casual clothes at the courthouse. Since we were on a very short deadline—getting a wedding permit and a courthouse appointment in Vermont could be done fast—I didn’t have time to go shop for a new outfit, but I still picked out a cream summer dress that is covered in pastel daffodils and that reaches all the way to my calves, paired with cream heels. I also wanted to do something cute with my hair, settling on curling it and tucking half of it up.
As I’m studying him, he’s definitely studying me, and while I don’t know how he feels about what he sees, I won’t bring myself to care. He doesn’t have to find me pretty or even okay. He just has to sign his name on the legal papers and share my life for two years.
Neither one of us moves for a couple of moments as if we’re both waiting for some sign to get going. I wonder if he’s also feeling like his body is being pulled in both directions, like he wants to do this as much as he wants to run away and never look back. Or maybe that’s just me.
“Well, then.” I extend a hand in the direction of the door, and he walks to it, holds it open for me, then follows me in.
The inside of the courthouse is pretty empty considering it’s a Tuesday afternoon, and we take a seat where the clerk tells us, the dated, itchy chairs facing a set of doors I think will lead us to the room where we’ll get married.
A painful silent minute passes before I exclaim, “We forgot to bring a witness.” Even if I’d wanted to, I don’t know who I would’ve asked. I haven’t told any of my friends what I’m doing, and I certainly wouldn’t have told Nana. I probably wouldn’t havebeen able to go through with it if I’d had to listen to her or Finn tell me all the reasons why I’m dumb to be doing this. Although right now, I’d give anything to have them with me.
“Pretty sure they can give us one.”
“Right.”
I wait another second before saying, “Did we need to bring a passport or something?”
“Relax, Fireball. We did what was asked of us. We’re good.”
I know he’s right. Still, I don’t like his casualness as if this is a walk in the park for him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous—not even before going in for my transplant. Then, I knew I was doing what was best for me. Now, I’m not so sure.
The grandfather clock standing three feet away from us ticks loudly, each sound making my legs bounce faster.
My movements stop when a warm hand lands on my knee, not clutching, only holding it in place. I might be annoyed if it didn’t feel so reassuring.
“You’re makingmenervous,” Carter says.
