Page 48 of Misery In Me

I glance at the clock on Romano’s wall and realize just how much time has passed. My heart races as the thought of getting to the courthouse sets in. “I need to go. I told her we’re getting married this afternoon.”

Romano stands up as I make to leave, but he stops me with one last piece of advice. “Gage, I know you’ve been through hell, but if you’re doing this, you better be all in. No half-assing it. Don’t let her down. I’ll call you to talk about what’s going on with where you’ll be on Monday.”

“I won’t,” I promise.

I turn to leave, my hand on the doorknob, and Romano calls after me.

“Oh, and Gage?”

I glance over my shoulder.

“Don’t fuck it up,” he repeats, and this time, there’s a hint of a grin on his face.

I smirk back, nodding once before stepping out of his office. The burden of everything sits in my chest, but this time, it feels different. This time, I feel like I’m doing something right. Something real.

I’m walking into a new chapter of my life, and there’s no going back now.

The courthouse is sterile.Cold, almost clinical. Very much like the medical facility, and I hate it. There’s a stillness in the air that makes me feel like I’m not supposed to be here. But here we are. Alejandra stands beside me, and Zoe, in her arms, her tiny hand wrapped around Alejandra’s finger, stares up at me with wide, very awake eyes. She’s wearing a little dress, the one Alejandra picked out, and a pair of tiny white shoes that seem a little too big for her feet. I can’t stop staring at her, at my daughter, and the pressure of the moment presses on me like a vise.

This wasn’t how I envisioned my life going. Hell, I don’t think anyone does. But this—this feels right.

I kind of did everything ass-backwards. I had a kid and now I’m getting married.

And it’s not even to her mother.

The clerk calls us up, her voice almost muffled behind the thick glass that separates us from the rest of the courthouse. Alejandra squeezes my hand, the pressure of her touch grounding me. Her warmth is the only thing that keeps me steady, because, deep down, my mind is a mess of chaos. I know I’m ready for this, but my head keeps fucking with me. What if I’m not a good enough husband? What if I’m a shitty father?

I haven’t been ready for anything in a long time. But, somehow, Alejandra makes me feel like I’m capable of something more.

Of being someone better.

Zoe groans in Alejandra's arms and I look down at her, speaking in a gentle voice. “What do you think, baby girl? Are you ready for Daddy to make it official?”

The little whimper she makes brings a smile to my face. I’m going to take that as a yes. I didn’t think I could ever have a moment like this. A family. A life that felt real. But here we are, standing at the edge of something that could be beautiful if I don’t fuck it up.

“Are you ready?” Alejandra whispers to me as she stands again, her eyes searching mine. I can’t tell her how much I’m freaking out. How much I’m terrified that maybe I’m not good enough for her. For either of them. Maybe I’m asking too much of her, of us, of this entire thing. But when I look at her—when I look at Zoe—I know I need to remind myself that it’s all for them.

“Yeah,” I answer, my voice thick. “I’m ready.”

She smiles softly, and it feels like everything is falling into place. Even though the courthouse is cold and impersonal, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is right here, right now, in this little bubble we’ve created together.

The clerk calls us forward, and we walk to the counter, where a woman at a computer is waiting for us. She doesn’t look up when we approach. It’s all business for her.

But for me, this moment is anything but business.

“You both need to sign here, please,” the clerk says, sliding the paperwork across the counter.

I glance at Alejandra, and she’s already reaching for the pen. Her hand shakes slightly, and I can see the nerves in her eyes. But she doesn’t let them show. Not for me. Not for Zoe.

I place my hand over hers before she can sign. She looks up at me, eyes wide, searching my face for something.

“I don’t want to just sign the paper,” I say, my voice low, my heart pounding. “I want this to be real, Alejandra. I need you to know that. I need you to know I’m all in and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath catches in her throat, and she slowly nods. “I know,” she whispers, and it’s the softest sound I’ve ever heard, but the words carry more weight than anything I’ve ever said.

She signs the paper, and I follow suit, my hands shaking as I write my name next to hers. This isn’t some casual gesture. It’s not a formality. This is my life. This is us. And when I sign my name, I’m giving everything I have to her and Zoe.

The woman behind the counter checks our IDs and stamps the paperwork with a finality that makes my chest tighten.

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