Page 34

THIRTY-THREE

MARA

NOVEMBER

Jack helped me into the passenger seat of his SUV, and I saw something special waiting for me: a pearlized cane between my seat and the console.

“Jack, what is this?”

He looked anywhere but at my face. “I thought I’d keep the cane on theme if you needed one today. I wanted you to be stylish.”

“Jack.” I sandwiched his face between my hands, stroking my thumbs over his neatly trimmed beard. “Thank you. I love that.”

His cheeks went hot under my hands.

“Kiss you?” I asked.

With a nod, he leaned in for a peck, holding my waist as he still stood outside the car. He looked like he wanted to smile so hard but was scared. I pinched his cheek in my fingers.

“You’re allowed to smile today.”

His face fell. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

And just like that, the veneer shattered. My chest flushed hot and I didn’t feel like crying, more like I was going to get sick.

It was fake.

I knew that. He knew that. But he wanted to make sure I knew it, and for some reason, that hurt more than I expected.

I turned my legs in and Jack closed my door. Things were tense as he started the car. I watched out my window as we got going. He had a playlist on, different from his standard Nickelback/Creed standards. This one had more emo hits.

Appropriate, since Jack and I were riding along in a tense silence.

Until the signature opening piano notes of “Welcome to the Black Parade” came on. I’d learned that Jack has two car modes: extremely enthusiastic, almost voice- and definitely ear-grating singing, and half-present mumble singing.

This time, he was silent, but he draped his arm over the console. His fingers brushed over my forearm, the back of his knuckle wisping over my skin not that differently than he had when I was in the hospital and he was convincing me to do this very thing.

He was testing the waters, extending an olive branch after he knew he hurt me. When the screaming part of the song kicked in, he eyed me, daring us to go all in.

So we did. Jack Leroy, my husband-to-be, was apologizing to me through the very nerdy and very ridiculous vessel of a My Chemical Romance song.

Eighteen-year-old me would have been very pleased. Jack laced his fingers with mine, a genuine smile creeping over his face. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. He let me go, but instead of returning his hand to the steering wheel, he tapped a rhythm on my thigh.

As the song built, so did we. We were trying. I had more to give than he did, but I knew in his own way, he was giving everything he could.

The guy next to me was an asshole, sure. But he was a fun asshole. He was about to be my asshole.

We parked outside the Beverly Hills courthouse, but instead of getting out right away, we turned to each other and finished singing the song. It was stupid and cheesy, but we needed it. We were doing something most wouldn’t, and maybe we just needed to feel like we were in it together.

I took the longer notes while he did the layered verse, like we’d done this hundreds of times. We laughed, and I flicked my head toward the building. “Let’s go get hitched, Leroy.”

“Let’s fuckin’ go.”

He rushed to help me out of the car, even if I didn’t need it. Instead of taking it as some chivalrous or ableist bullshit, I knew it was one of the ways he felt comfortable showing he cared.

“Need your cane, baby?” he asked as I slid to the ground.

It wasn’t the question that suddenly made this real. It was the “baby” that set off my nerves. Tremors went through me.

I hardly knew this man.

He was calling me ‘baby.’

He was trying to care for all my needs.

He agreed to take care of my children if I died.

And even with all that, he was never going to love me.

My throat turned into a desert, and I croaked out a, “Sure, can’t hurt. But then I can’t carry my flowers.”

“I’ll get those,” he said.

Jack walked beside me, his hand resting on my outer hip, the other holding my flowers. We went through security, and as we stood by the elevator, he looked me over. I gestured to his hand on me. “You’re handsy today.”

Jack chewed his lower lip. “I feel calmer when I touch you.”

The elevator doors opened, and on jelly legs, I let him lead me inside. As they slid shut, Jack’s hand found mine. “You’re so beautiful, Mara.”

I wanted to cry. He was being so sweet, so earnest. This guarded asshole was being vulnerable for me. He was trying, putting himself out there.

But love was off the table.

“You look great too, Jackie baby.”

Woodenly, Jack led me to the registrar’s office. Everyone working there was so jolly, the people whose job it is to deal with happy people.

There was an undeniable undercurrent that made it hard for me to be fully happy.

We sat in the two seats in front of a desk cluttered with family pictures and fake flowers pinned up everywhere. I was zoned out before I realized Jack was pushing a clipboard my way. “My handwriting’s shit,” Jack said. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, sure.” I penned in our vital details, realizing I found out things like his birthday on the spot. “Leo baby,” I said with a laugh.

“You surprised?” he asked. “We’re the biggest assholes.”

The woman behind the desk was so tickled by him.

“Um, what’s your middle name?” I croaked.

Jack’s gentle hand met my knee. “Robert,” he said, pronouncing it the French way, then the English way. “I mean, like Robert.”

“I’ll start calling you Jackie Robbie,” I joked, and he chuckled. He had to be nervous too. This was, after all, absurd. Our little jokes were a Band-aid on a bullet wound.

I smiled like I was supposed to, but I guess it didn’t look authentic.

The woman working behind the desk cooed when Jack leaned in to kiss my temple. “You alright, Mar?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just nerves.”

“Alright, congratulations, you two,” the woman said after checking over our paperwork and handing us a stamped paper. “Go on and wait in the hallway and they’ll get you hitched.”

We stood to head for the chapel and my vision blacked out. Even with my cane, I reached for Jack to steady me.

“I got you. Take your time, baby.” Jack kissed my hair and latched his arms around me. “I’ll hold you up.”

I closed my eyes and sucked in one deep breath, then another.

“I got you, Mar,” he said again. His hand slipped under my hair to touch my clammy neck. I think he knew it wasn’t just POTS getting me.

“I’m good,” I said, and put my hand through his arm.

“Let’s go put on the ol’ ball and chain,” he said, his voice low like this was a private joke.

He opened the doors to the chapel, and I caught sight of the little archway they’d set up, draped in white fake flowers. My breath caught in my throat again.

“I can’t do this.”

Jack’s head snapped down to me, then up to the judge. “Um, ma’am, we need a minute. Mar, let’s talk.” He pulled me to the side of the door and I rested against the cool marble wall. He lifted my hair away from my neck again, fanning behind me. “What’s up?”

My thoughts raced and I pinched my eyes shut. “What’s our deal?” I opened to gaze up into his concerned brown eyes. “Are we just a business arrangement or are we going to be something?”

Jack’s eyes softened. He licked his lower lip and pulled it into his teeth. “Let’s just be married on paper and see what happens with the other stuff.”

“That’s not good enough,” I said, my voice quivering. If I was ever going to stand up for myself, I needed to do it now. “I like you, Jack. And you’re messing with my head. I don’t want to be teenagers giving each other jobs—hand jobs, blow jobs, whatever. If you don’t think you can love me, we can’t do that stuff anymore. And if you can be discreet, you can go do that stuff with other people.” I sniffed and ran my finger under my nose, then under my lashes.

Jack pulled a black pocket square out of his breast pocket, and I laughed a little too hard, emotionally spent after spilling out how I really felt.

“Mara, I still won’t run around on you, no matter if we’re physical or not. My commitment to you is still the same. Even if I can’t give you love, I won’t hurt you.”

“It hurts me that you won’t even try,” I whispered, tears breaking my speech.

He nodded, his thumb stroking my palm. “I just don’t know, Mara, so I don’t want to promise something that’s not for sure. But I can give you what you need.”

“What I need is love.” I swallowed hard and my lip trembled.

The chapel door creaked open again, a hearty metal click from the handle. “Jacques Leroy?”

“It’s for the kids, Mara. For your health. We’re stronger together than we are apart.”

The woman in the doorway cleared her throat.

“Coming,” Jack said, extending his hand to me. “Marry me?”

He was right. This was for our kids. Jack was a good man. He’d be a good stepdad, and I’d be honored to be Harper and Jace’s stepmom.

I nodded, looking down at his shoes. “Yeah.” I ran my finger under each eye and sniffed, putting on a smile. “Let’s get married.”

Jack and I walked into the chapel, arm in arm. He handed his phone to the witness, a woman seated in the front row. “Can you take some pictures for us?”

“Of course.”

“Do you want to keep your cane or go without?” he asked me under his breath.

“You’ll hold me up?” I asked.

Jack’s expression held none of his usual sarcasm. “Always, Mara.”

I let him pass my cane off to the witness, and he gave my flowers back. The judge, a short Latina woman with a killer curly bob and pink glasses, had a broad smile and shot me a wink. “Little bit of cold feet never hurt anybody.”

My wet laugh rang out and Jack’s thumb reached to swipe a tear from my cheek.

“Aw, see? He’s a good one,” she said, then elbowed my side. “But last chance to back out, hon.”

I pulled in a deep breath and this time, my smile was genuine. “No, I’m ready.”

“Will you be repeating your vows or do you want me to do all the talking?”

Jack’s gaze didn’t leave my face. “I want to say them.”

A chill spread from my spine down my arms. “Alright. Let’s say them.”

“Then we’ll begin,” the judge said. “The step each of you are about to undergo is one of the most important events in life that any two people can undertake. It is entering into a union, a union between two people founded upon mutual respect and affection. Because of this unique relationship that you are both voluntarily partaking in, your individual lives will change. Resulting from this change, your responsibilities will intensify significantly, but your joy will also intensify significantly if you are sincere with your pledge that you are about to make to one another today. Are you both here freely and giving yourself at will?”

“Yes,” Jack and I said together. Whenever Jack talked, I liked to watch how his throat moved, moving the ink that crept above his collar.

“Jacques, do you take Mara to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

The edge of Jack’s lips curled up, but it wasn’t his usual snarky smirk. His eyes were earnest, but would his words be? He was promising to love me, the one thing he said he couldn’t give.

“I do.”

The judge moved along, just another day at the office for her. “And Mara, do you take Jacques to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

There was no way those words didn’t stick out to him. Love was in the vows.

“I do.”

“Please join hands and repeat after me. I, Jacques . . .” The judge baited him and he repeated her words.

“I, Jacques, take you, Mara, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer or poorer—” his eyes became more determined, and I knew he wanted to mean this part. Jack knew what my sickness could entail, and he was still saying the words. This time, the vows meant more because I knew what it was like to have the vows trampled on. “In sickness and in health . . .”

Jack’s breath hitched and his grip on my hands tightened for the next line, “to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

“Breathe out. You did it,” the judge whispered and we both laughed. “Now for you, Mara. Repeat after me.”

“I, Mara, take you, Jacques, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health,” and at this point, Jack’s breaths were growing ragged. His eyes were red and wet and he pinched his lips into a line, sniffling.

He knew what was coming.

It wasn’t that Jack couldn’t love me. It was that Jack was scared to be loved again.

And he needed to hear loud and clear that I vowed to love him.

“To love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

And there was big tough guy, Jack Leroy, who beat people up for a living, who only grunted words if he absolutely had to, crying at our courthouse wedding—all because he was afraid to get his heart broken again.

I wouldn’t drop that fragile heart. I’d treat it with all the love it needed. I lifted my hand and wiped his tears from his face.

The judge beamed. “Who has the rings?”

Jack snapped out of it. “I do.” He patted his breast pocket, then reached inside for a small cloth bag with our rings inside.

“I’ll hold them,” the judge said. “Jacques, you go first again. Take the ring.”

He picked up his own ring and we all laughed. “Oh, shit. Yours. Not mine. My bad.”

“That’s okay,” she pushed us on with a good-natured laugh. “Jacques, please place the ring on Mara’s finger and say, ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’”

His hands had been shaking, but at this moment, he steadied. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

The subtle crystal black and white spikes slipped onto my finger with the perfect fit.

“My queen,” he whispered, shooting me the most genuine smile. My throat tightened and my stomach felt all wobbly and goddammit, who was this man? It was stupid and absolutely corny but it was his way to show how much I meant to him. If it was all I ever got, I’d have to accept it.

The woman in the front row swooned, trying not to interrupt.

“Now, Mara,” the judge prompted.

I took the ring out of her hand and wiggled it onto Jack’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“In as much as Mara and Jacques have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company and pledged their vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss.”

This was my moment: maybe the most important kiss we’d shared to this point. I needed to convince Jack to keep his heart open, to leave the door open for us to love. This wasn’t the time for messing around.

I needed to mean it.

I rested my arms on top of his as his circled my waist, and I let him have it.

I kissed him so he wouldn’t have any doubt. I kissed him so he could not only give me love, which he already tried in his way, but so he could receive it too. I had to show him he was worthy of love.

So the best way I knew how, I did.