Chapter 4: Mr. and Mrs.

The Mecklenburg County register of deeds had a line of nine couples at two in the afternoon.

I stood in it with a man I had known for twenty hours and filled out a form in blue pen.

Under Occupation, Ford wrote: Boat builder.

Under Occupation, I wrote: Pediatric nurse.

The clerk looked at the two forms and then at us.

"North Carolina has no waiting period," she said. "Cash or card for the license?"

"Card," I said.

"I'll get it," Ford said.

"Terms," I said. "Our own money."

He put his wallet away and let me pay.

My phone had been buzzing in my bag since the hotel.

I took it out once and saw a screen full of texts from Preston and his mother, and a voicemail from Kendra that I deleted without playing.

I blocked all three.

I kept my mother's number open.

She picked up on the first ring.

"Dessa Marie, where are you? Preston's mother called me crying."

"I'm at the courthouse, Mama."

"Honey, what is going on?"

"I'm getting married."

There was a long silence on the line.

"To Preston," she said carefully.

"To someone else."

"Do I know him?"

"No."

"Is he nice?"

I looked across the hall at Ford.

He was reading a notice on the wall about marriage license fees, all the way through.

"He's quiet," I said.

"Quiet's better than the other kind," my mother said, and for a moment neither of us said anything, because we were both thinking of my father.

"I'll call you tonight," I said.

"You'd better."

The magistrate's office was a plain room with a flag and a box of tissues.