"Is that a wedding ring on your hand?" she asked boldly.
I hadn't told Jessica. What if she overheard? She'd probably get angry and yell or make a scene. I said quietly, "Yes."
I felt her eyes raking over me, but I refused to glance at her. "Hmm. I suppose congratulations are in order."
Not what I'd expected. I smiled thinly, still worried what those around me might say if they heard our conversation. "Thank you."
"I don't remember seeing it on your hand last week."
I finished up the transaction and turned my attention fully her way. "No. It was recent."
Her grin was more seductive than I expected. "You realize, dear boy, that being married only makes you more appealing."
I drew in a long breath. "And on that note, here's the receipt for your deposit and transfer." I didn't need to fuel her interest any more than I was apparently already doing with my mere presence.
She chuckled deep in her cougar throat and walked away.
I breathed a sigh of relief and then turned around to find Jessica standing right there, glaring. "You're married? When were you going to tell me?"
"Um, now." She was upset, and I had a feeling it was because she saw us as friends and I had somehow betrayed her by not disclosing the information first thing. "I'm sorry, Jessica. It all happened really fast," I apologized. Whether or not it was my fault, I didn't want her to feel hurt. "I called the courthouse like you suggested, and there were only two times available. We got married this morning."
Jessica surveyed the lobby to make sure no one was waiting in line before commenting. "But is this what you want? Is this the dream wedding you planned your whole life? Is standing in front of a judge-"
"Clerk," I corrected.
"Whatever … the way you pictured it?"
"I haven't really pictured anything." Not exactly true, but I knew what I had dreamed about through the years was not the same as Jessica.
"Bullshit. I've been planning my wedding since I was five. I know what flowers I want and the kind of gown. Let me see your ring," she demanded. Reluctantly, I brought up my hand. She eyed it curiously and then figured out I had rotated the ring around to the inside of my hand. I rolled my eyes, huffed, and righted it. "Oh my God!" Jessica howled and grabbed my hand. "That's huge! How much money does Tristan have?"
I winced at her volume. "Shhh, I don't want to advertise my life in here."
She quieted. "I'm sorry." She held my hand and tilted the diamond in different directions like I had. "This is the prettiest ring I've ever seen. And you're going to stand there and tell me you've never dreamed about your wedding? A guy doesn't pick out a ring this ostentatious without thinking about it. If you didn't care about any of it, then you'd have been fine with just the one simple band. This ring screams ‘romantic.'"
She had me there. As soon as I had seen it, I had known I wanted so much more than a court clerk officiating our wedding with as much emotion as the chief justice swearing in the president. I did want romance. I did want flowers. I knew I had looked nice-so had Tristan-but wouldn't a white tux have been more grand? "We're planning the spring wedding thing. I told you. This is just so it's official and he can file for full custody and show how stable his home life is compared to his ex." I kept repeating the same reason, but it sounded less and less convincing each time.
"I hope it's worth it."
I assured her, "It is. This is sudden, but fine. Really." Jessica walked back to her cubicle when a customer walked up. As she helped him I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. Was I really fine? I told myself I was. Everything else had happened so suddenly, but if I thought about it, then yes, I wanted more. I was a romantic. I wanted music and laughter. The clerk had been kind and had told us afterward he was glad for the ruling in June for marriage equality nationwide. I appreciated the sentiment, but I felt the emptiness of our marriage without our loved ones as witnesses. The two employees who witnessed our wedding were strangers. I wanted my mother there. I'd texted, but she had been on another bus trip-two in one week! She'd texted back her apology and left me feeling cold. I felt gypped. So much of the morning seemed imaginary. It was like getting married in secret, which it kind of was.
AT LUNCH, I called Mel. He was upset, but ultimately understood. "Did you tell your mother?" he asked.
I muttered, "Yes. She was on a bus trip-again. She couldn't be bothered to cancel it last minute. It's as if she's glad I'm not coming to her with every concern, instead of getting upset I'd forgotten to call. I admit I've been caught up in the whirlwind of it all, but I also feel disappointed at how it's gone down." I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about my mother more. I used to think about her all the time, but lately she hadn't been in my thoughts at all. I felt guilty.
"I can't say I'm surprised. You're not a kid, and I think she'd agree with me your clinginess was becoming an issue."
"I'm not clingy!" I paused and thought about it. Arguing was pointless. "Fine, maybe I am," I amended. I sighed over the phone. "You're right. I've avoided being an adult for far too long. How'd you get so smart?"
Mel chuckled. "By doing all the wrong things too many times. When do I get to meet Mr. Carr? Or is he changing it to Mr. Adams? You could hyphenate it too. Were you thinking of hyphenating?"
Too many questions at once-I nearly choked on my water. I coughed to make sure I could breathe and then answered, "I haven't thought about it. But … Grant Carr has a pleasant ring to it, don't you think?"
Mel agreed, "Yeah. If you did Adams-Carr, then people might mistakenly hear ‘Adam's car' and be looking out the window for a Volkswagen or something."
I giggled. "That would be bad. I'll have to ask Tristan. This weekend is out, because his daughter visits every other weekend. I'm pretty sure Saturday is her visit."
"Are you nervous?"
"No, not really. I'm worried for Tristan because she's going to be upset. He told her last weekend she could come to the ceremony. Now it's done, and she's going to yell at him, I know it."
"You realize what this means, don't you?"
"What?"
"You're the stepdad. You have a kid, Grant, a teenaged kid. You need to make sure you always side with Tristan, or discuss things privately when you disagree. Maintaining a solid parental front is best when dealing with teenagers. My advice: never get in between Tristan and his daughter."
"Why?" I asked innocently, wondering how Mel had gotten so knowledgeable when he didn't have children.
"Because you'll alienate Tristan if you do, and give his daughter more power than she deserves as a child. She'll try to work you in order to get her way, thinking you're the weak one, but you should always talk things through with Tristan, especially if she tries manipulation. Never let her think she's in charge."
"Wise words from a single person," I said.
"Maybe-but I have two sisters, one brother, three half sisters, and two stepbrothers, don't forget. My gigantimous family has taught me a thing or two."
The truth dawned on me. "Oh, right. I'll listen to you from now on, Obi-Wan."
Mel laughed. "You better!"
"Listen, my break's over. I gotta go. I'll talk to Tristan and see if we can have you over for dinner next weekend or meet you at a restaurant."
"Okay, sounds good."
We both said good-bye, and I cleaned up my trash before heading back out to my station. Work picked up after lunch, so the rest of the day went by swiftly. One customer noticed my diamond ring and only said congratulations. It made me feel less nervous about wearing it facing front. I knew I shouldn't be embarrassed to show it off, but part of me was still tentative. I knew I'd feel more confident in time.
I LEFT my pinstriped shirt on, because I hadn't gotten it dirty, and leaving it on reminded me of our marriage that morning. Tristan arrived, and we were off to Olive Garden.
In the truck, he said, "I called Claire. She was upset at first, but after I explained why, she calmed down. I told her we'd promised to have something in the spring, and she was pleased."
"Yeah, I talked to Mel. I texted my mom and she was fine. Jessica was pissed she hadn't been there, so we definitely need to plan a spring wedding. I'd like to wear a white tux, if you don't mind."
He stopped the truck at a light and turned to regard me. He gave a slight grin. "A tux, eh?"