Page 34 of Playing Along

“Do you have the rings?” Judge Karplin asks.

“Rings?” Nora echoes, looking panicked.

“I have them,” I say, releasing her hand to reach inside my pocket. “Did you really think I’d forget rings?” I murmur so only she can hear. Twin spots of color bloom high on her cheekbones, begging me to press my lips along their curve.

But instead I pass the rings to the judge and await his instructions.

“Repeat after me,” he says, passing me back Nora’s ring. It’s not the ring I proposed to her with. I returned that ring after we broke up, desperate to rid myself of that painful reminder of what could’ve been, but that I thought was never going to be. No, this is my mother’s ring. It’s simple, a slim silver band set with small diamonds across the top. Its value is purely sentimental—or I probably would’ve already sold it to help with Joy’s expenses—so I’m not expecting much of a reaction when I slide it onto her finger.

“I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love,” I murmur the words the judge supplied for me, a shiver running down my spine as I move the ring slowly across her knuckle and into place.

“Oh, Em, look—now Nora’s crying. They’re just so cute,” Lucy’s soft whisper floats over, and my head jerks up to Nora’s face to see that she’s right. Nora is in fact crying.

Crap. That’s not good. Sure, Lucy thinks it’s sweet, but I know better. These are not happy, sentimental tears. They’re more like oh, crap I’m marrying a man I don’t love tears.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, taking my hand off hers and stepping back, giving her space to process. “Antigua is still an option,” I add, keeping my voice light.

“Antigua?” Lucy says to Emily. “Wait, are they seriously talking about a destination wedding? Because that’s going to need to take place asap or I’ll be too far along to go.”

“Seeing as they’re seconds away from being pronounced husband and wife, I’m thinking they’re talking about a honeymoon destination, Luce,” Emily replies.

“Nobody is going to Antigua,” Nora cuts in quickly, swiping a finger across her wet cheeks and setting her shoulders. “My turn for the ring, right?” She holds her hand out expectantly to Judge Karplin, who nods, unperturbed by the drama. Given that he marries people at a courthouse on a regular basis, he’s probably seen it all before. He passes her the ring. This one belonged to my dad. After he died my mom used to wear it on a chain around her neck. I got so used to seeing it there, that after she died the ring became an item that reminded me not just of my dad, but of her as well.

Judge Karplin feeds her the line and Nora begins to slide the ring onto my finger, her touch sending sparks through my body.

“I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love,” she repeats the same words I said to her, but unlike when I said them, there’s no tremor in her voice. Instead she says them with a sureness that unnerves me. Don’t read into it, I remind myself, wondering if this is my life now: constantly having to give myself pep talks so I don’t do something stupid like tell my wife I love her.

“By the power vested in me by the State of Michigan I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Judge Karplin looks my way as Lucy and Emily cheer. “You may kiss the bride,” he tells me.

Nora’s eyes pop wide as if—like me not too long ago—she’s just remembered this part of a wedding ceremony. I search her eyes for permission, jerking my head infinitesimally in the direction of Lucy and Emily. She nods, looking terrified. Not exactly encouraging, but since I can hear the two women squealing in anticipation I don’t have much choice but to go in for the requisite kiss.

I attempt one more quick pep talk as I close the distance between us, telling myself not to make this kiss into something that it’s not, but then my lips are on hers and my anxious thoughts go blissfully quiet as I lose myself in kissing her.

Muscle memory takes over and my arms lift to pull her closer to me, my hand sliding into her hair, my mouth moving against hers in an achingly familiar dance. When she wraps her arms around my neck and the tips of her fingers graze softly against my skin, heat blazes through my body. I’m on the edge of a precipice, ready to tumble down with her—and then someone shouts her name and we rip apart.

Chapter 13

Nora

IT’S IMPORTANT TO note that I am not a PDA person. I prefer my kisses be of the private variety. Luckily Jack was always the same way. When we were dating we’d be out in public or in the middle of a crowd and our eyes would meet—next thing I knew he’d be sweeping me away to some secluded corner or tugging me outside to steal a kiss. And if we couldn’t manage to sneak away, his foot would find mine, letting me know he was thinking about being alone with me later.

But when Jack kisses me again for the first time in three years, I forget all about the fact that we have an audience. Kissing Jack again is like coming home after too long away. My whole body sighs with the relief of it. It’s evocative and sweet and, okay—also leaves me wondering what the thermostat is set to because it is hot in this home.

“Nora! Nora!” Somewhere, distantly in the recesses of my brain I hear my name being shouted repeatedly, but I’m too busy kissing Jack to respond. But whoever it is keeps at it until the voice is only inches away and can no longer be ignored.

We spring apart, both breathing hard. I wonder if my face has the same stunned expression as the one on Jack’s face. The ‘what just happened?’ face that matches the question bouncing around in my head.

But the question vanishes when I turn to see Mel standing there, the clear owner of the voice yelling at us.

“Finally!” she cries, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. “I’ve been shouting at you for five minutes! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve all been about you? I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Five minutes?” I squeak in horror, bypassing the worried comment to focus on this blatant lie. Because there’s no way we were kissing for five whole minutes. I glance Emily and Lucy’s way for confirmation of this assertion.

“Well, maybe not five,” Emily says kindly. “But certainly at least two.”

“The judge said you may kiss the bride,” Lucy adds with a smirk, “not you may make out with the bride.” She looks insanely pleased by this new development; I’ve clearly made up for my lame we-reconnected-by-talking story.

Meanwhile I sort of want to die rather than having to face Jack. How could I have allowed myself to kiss my husband for TWO WHOLE MINUTES?

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