Chapter 4: Married on Paper, Strangers at Heart

The next morning, we visited Nathan’s grandfather at Northwestern Memorial’s cardiac suite. He teased me about my hair, and I spun to show off the sunset streaks, making the old man laugh until the heart monitor beeped. He joked about dyeing Nathan’s hair, too—'Make him less of an insurance adjuster!'

Nathan just stared at the ceiling, pretending not to hear. Playing deaf—classic Nathan, even with scrambled brains.

Afterward, I dragged Nathan to my Tesla in long-term parking. He clung to the door, resisting. 'Don’t go!'

I leaned in, catching the gold flecks in his eyes. 'We’re getting the marriage license. You want to break your grandpa’s heart?'

He stopped struggling, slid inside, and fiddled with his seatbelt, eyes downcast. Aunt Rachel had told me last night there’d be no wedding, no party—just a marriage certificate to satisfy the old man. 'No mess, no fuss.'

Nathan seemed as distant now as he had then—present but unreachable.

At the clerk’s office, it took less than ten minutes. We walked out, paperwork in hand, rings on our fingers. I’d bought simple platinum bands that morning, sliding one onto Nathan’s warm hand, then my own.

Nathan stared at his ring, lost in thought. I snapped my fingers. He blinked, and I stuffed the paperwork into his hands. Then I looped an arm around his neck, lifted my phone, and snapped a selfie.

Nathan’s expression was wooden—like I’d threatened him. I tugged his cheek. 'Smile, husband. Once for the ‘gram.'

He cycled through shock, confusion, and embarrassment, finally glancing at me with downcast lashes. I hit the shutter.

I posted it to Instagram with just ring emojis. Old Mr. Miller liked it instantly. The comments blew up: 'WHAT??' 'Since when??' 'Bro what happened to Barcelona??'

I pocketed my phone and grabbed Nathan’s tie. 'Let’s go.'

He blinked, lost. 'Where to?'

I grinned wickedly. 'Home. Wedding night, honeymoon suite.'