Chapter 15
Lydia
Finding a witness has proven harder than I thought, namely because I haven’t told anyone besides Jamie about my pregnancy and subsequent plans to get married, and Jamie has informed me that she can’t just leave her fourth hour students unattended to come be a witness at my courthouse wedding. Lame.
“Why can’t you wait until the weekend?” she asks. “What’s the rush?” I haven’t told her about Cole’s mayoral campaign. She already has a low opinion of him on account of him having gotten me pregnant. I don’t want her to realize he’s only marrying me because he doesn’t want to lose an election. This is actually something I try not to think about myself. I mean, it’s not as if I have a whole lot of other options. It’s Cole or a life of single parenthood. Sure, maybe in a few years I could see if there are any guys out there willing to date a single mother, but let’s be realistic. If I’m a twenty-something guy who’s a good catch, why would I choose a single mother over all the other non-mother dating candidates? That’s right, I wouldn’t. So, at the very least I’d have to wait until I’m thirty, since at that point the dating pool will have thinned out a little, before I could even dream of finding someone.
Panic is rising up in my chest, and I shove it back down. I haven’t been able to get control of my racing thoughts since I saw the plus sign on that test. I just need to focus on the task at hand. Finding a witness. Preferably one that will annoy Cole. Bonus points if it annoys Tom too. That’s when it hits me. I smile to myself as I pull out my phone.
Cole
Tom and I are standing at the top of the front steps of the courthouse when I see her. It’s a warm day, so she doesn’t have a coat over her dress. It’s the blush-colored one she wore to the rehearsal dinner, and while you’d think having already seen her in it would’ve dimmed the effect, she still takes my breath away. Her head is thrown back in a laugh, and I trace the curve of her neck with my eyes before I realize what I’m doing and quickly shift my gaze away. I wouldn’t want to be caught ogling my soon-to-be wife now, would I?
I look over to the person who presumably made her laugh and see a woman who looks to be in her forties striding alongside her. Her roommate? I’m musing about how she’s way older than I would’ve expected, when I see it. Her name tag. Hilda.She brought the cashier from her grocery store to be her witness.
Crap. Tom is not going to be happy. He was so worried about being discreet that he wanted me to call and tell her that I’d bring both witnesses, but I knew she’d never go for that. Plus I’d assumed she’d bring her roommate, and she’d already told her everything anyway. It’s only when Lydia’s gaze meets mine and she smirks that I realize she planned this. She knew bringing Hilda would upset Tom. I repress a scowl. She won’t win this one.
I paste a bright smile on my face and aim it right at her, then turn to Tom, ready to perform damage control. I once watched my dad spin one of his candidates’ illegal hunting excursions into a narrative on the need to control deer populations in suburban communities. The guy had been hunting for elk. Needless to say, I learned from the best.
To my irritation, Tom is already peering at Hilda with a puzzled expression.
“Is that a Meijer name tag?” he asks, his voice dripping with displeasure. “Cole, what is going on here? I thought you said she was bringing her roommate.”
“Tom, Tom, Tom,” I begin in my most placating voice. I have to work quickly as the two of them are now at the bottom of the steps. “Didn’t I tell you about Lydia’s friendship with Hilda?”
“No,” he says flatly.
“Well, Lydia has a friend named Hilda who, yes, works as a cashier at Meijer, but is also the definition of discreet.” As I speak, I pray I’m right about this.
Tom’s face is red. “She bought a cashier as her witness! Do you know how many people cashiers see and speak with on a daily basis, Cole?” He doesn’t wait for my response, just barrels on, “Everyone! They see everyone Cole! It’s like you want this scandal to come out!”
“Tom, Tom, Tom,” I repeat, “don’t you see the potential here? This is the perfect photo op. Let me paint you a picture.” I lift my hand up and move it across the air as I dictate the potential newspaper headline, “Mayoral Candidate Cares About Blue Collar Workers,” he looks unmoved so I go on, moving my hand to a new line, “Subheading, Facing the Issues Together.”
Tom’s face remains stony, but he has no time to reply because Lydia and Hilda have now reached the top step.
“Hi, future husband.” Lydia grins wickedly at me, then looks at Tom, innocent doe eyes replacing her conniving ones. “Tom, nice to see you again.”
“Lydia,” his tone is clipped, “and who do you have here?”
“Oh, this is my friend Hilda,” she says brightly. “She’s here to be a witness.”
“Ah,” Tom brushes the already immaculate lapels of his suit coat, eyeing Hilda’s blue polo shirt with evident disdain.
“Hilda,” I say hastily, “so nice to meet you.” I offer her my hand, because I honestly don’t know what else to do. All I really know is that I want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off Lydia’s face.
“Nice to meet you too.” Hilda accepts my hand, appraising me in a way that lets me know she doesn’t trust me. It’s weird having her look at me that way while wearing a Meijer uniform, I feel a bit like she’s about to check my pockets for stolen merchandise.
“Let’s get inside.” Tom indicates the doors, eager to get this over with.
“Right. After you ladies.” I pull the door open and allow Hilda, then Lydia to file in.
“I’m marrying such a gentleman,” Lydia coos at me, then raises an eyebrow as she touches her still flat stomach. “On second thought, maybe not.”
I don’t even flinch at her insinuation, just smile down at her as my mind flits back to that day in her parent’s kitchen and the discarded romance novel with the guy in the breeches and a waistcoat on the cover. “Gosh, I’d be offended if I didn’t know what sort of books you like to read.” I bend down, so my lips are close to her ear. “Pretty sure you’re more into rakish scoundrel types like me anyway.”
Everything from her forehead to her neck to her exposed shoulders flushes red, and though I’d been intending to make her feel embarrassed for her book choices, I find I suddenly need to step away from her as heat washes over me. What is wrong with me? You’d think I was marrying this woman because I’m attracted to her or something.
I’ve obviously flustered Lydia too, though, since instead of answering me, she just keeps walking. I search out Tom and Hilda to distract myself from her and see that they’ve already reached the door marked City Clerk . Hilda is standing there admiring her long red fingernails, and Tom is studiously looking anywhere but her.
I hope Tom is wrong about Hilda blabbing to all her customers about me and Lydia. Sure, I said yesterday that I thought telling the voters outright what had happened between Lydia and I might be the way to go, but now that Hilda is here, and the threat of being exposed is all the more real, I’m having second thoughts. Maybe Tom is right, and we need to do our best to make it look like our marriage happened before our pregnancy. I’m sure my dad would agree with him. Will agree with him when he finds out.
“Wow,” Lydia, having recovered her regularly-colored complexion, speaks. “Our very own wedding chapel.”
Tom’s mouth forms a line, but he remains silent and simply pushes the door open. Fifteen minutes later the four of us are gathered around the city clerk, and I’m being asked to say, “I do”. My eyes meet Lydia’s, and I temporarily forget all of the drama that brought us here as I get lost in their depths.
“I do,” I utter the words as I slip the ring on her finger, and I’m surprised when my voice doesn’t shake one bit. I’m even more surprised when it’s her turn, and her lips curve up into a smile as she says the words. Of course, it’s there and gone so fast I wonder if I imagined it.
The clerk tells me I can kiss the bride. I look down at Lydia with a question in my eye. She shrugs, indicating her assent, so I pull her close and kiss her softly. It’s nothing overly passionate and yet, as we pull apart, it’s my turn to wipe a smile off my own face.