Page 15 of The Marriage Sham
“Oh!” She scrambles to pick them up off the floor, her face on fire. I stay where I am, too shocked to move. She could have destroyed my glasses and I wouldn’t have cared. All I want is another kiss, another moment of her and me together for real. The marriage may be fake, but that kiss was all too real.
The judge’s secretary, an older woman I’ve only seen around town in passing, steps up with forms to sign as I take my glasses from Frances’ outstretched hand, noticing her eyes aren’t meeting mine. I wish I could clear the room and go back to that kiss. At the very least, force her to look me in the eye and deny that kiss wasn’t meaningful. We were friendly in high school, but I think that kiss proves we’re more than that now.
“Okay, you need to sign here, Mr. Whittington.” The secretary stiffly taps me on the chest with her pen. She wants me to sign the marriage license and get out of here so they can move on with their day. She pushes her glasses up her nose and stares at me, her eyes abnormally enlarged behind the lenses.
I take the pen and sign without comment, handing it off to Frances, who signs her new name a bit awkwardly. Seeing her hand write out my last name strikes some primitive chord in me. Reminding myself for the hundredth time that this marriage isn’t supposed to last, I put my hand on her low back as she hands the pen to the secretary.
Frances looks up at me, her eyes still unfocused, leading me to think that if I were to kiss her again right now, she wouldn’t protest. I go to do just that, not caring that the older lady is still there sorting our paperwork, or that I can hear another party in the hall, waiting to use the room.
I’m only an inch or two away from continued paradise when a hand slaps my chest, halting my lean into Frances’ body. Startled, I look down and see a veined hand holding a thumb drive.
“Got everything on film. Congratulations.” The secretary’s tone is less congratulatory and more hurried, like she has better things to be doing, and I’m standing in her way of doing them. Those bugged out eyes are staring me down again.
I grimace. The moment is shattered, and Frances pulls away, tugging at her dress and gathering her handbag by the exit door.
“Thank you so much.” I smile a sickly sweet smile at the old lady. She scrunches her nose at me and waves me off, like I’m an annoying bug on a lazy afternoon. Apparently, this is why real marriages are planned for months in advance. So you don’t end up with a grumpy ol’ lady carrying out the proceedings.
Frances has already made her way to my car by the time I catch up with her. She’s surprisingly fast in those heels. I’d be annoyed except I thoroughly enjoyed the view from behind. I get the car door open for her and she slides in, a flash of leg making me grit my teeth.
This is a fake marriage.
This is a fake marriage.
With enough repetition, I should be able to remember.
“Back home, Mrs. Whittington?” It’s quiet in the car, just her and me finally. My brain is scrambling for how to bridge the gap from fake marriage to friends to more than friends. I don’t know exactly what I want, but I know I don’t want to be strangers just acting to make an old man happy. I was willing to settle for that before, but after that kiss?
I want more.
She smiles at me after a moment, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “That would be great, yes.” She pauses and simply looks at me for a minute, like she’s processing something in that head of hers. “I didn’t even think about rings.”
“I figured since we agreed to this marriage for family’s sake, we should make them part of the ceremony. Earl agreed to let me use his band when I asked last night. And you have my grandmother’s diamond ring.” I’m suddenly nervous, realizing I should have asked her about all that before just springing it on her.
“Thank you. It’s perfect. The dress, the rings, the pictures, the nurse you arranged for Granddaddy. Everything. Thank you.”
I nod quickly. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve known you a long time, Francie. I’ve been given a chance to treat you how I should have all those years ago.”
Her eyes fill with tears before she turns away and stares out the windshield.
I clear my throat and start the car, taking us back home.
