dress.
When my bride-to-be finally reached me at the altar, I took her hands and we both turned toward the officiant, the increasingly senile older gent with thinning gray hair, and dull blue eyes he had to narrow in order to focus on the text.
Chloe was unusually quiet, nodding in all the appropriate places but not offering anything more. A part of me was beginning to worry that this amounted to more than just a case of pre-wedding nerves. I’d just made the decision to take her aside as soon as we’d finished when the Honorable James Marsters said, “And then I will pronounce you man and wife, and then Bennett . . .”
I watched Chloe’s head snap up, her brows drawn together as if she had to have misheard.
“What did you just say?” she asked, waiting intently, and for a moment I thought, Yes, there’s the fire, there’s the woman Max was talking about this morning.
And then I realized what the judge had actually said that got her riled up. Oh no.
“Which part, young lady?” he asked, finger moving back over the worn words in his book, attempting to track down a phrase he could have skipped or mispronounced, something to have caused such a quick response.
“Did you say man and wife?” she clarified. “Man. And wife. As in, he remains a man but I will now only be referred to as something that belongs to him—no longer able to have my own identity and existing solely as someone’s wife?”
I heard Max’s voice rise above the din of confused murmurs. “Does anyone smell rain?”
James reached forward and patted Chloe’s arm above where I held her hands, wearing a fatherly smile. “I understand, sweetheart . . .” he said, turning his eyes to me for help. “Isn’t this the version of the ceremony you requested, Bennett?”
Her head whipped to me, eyes blazing. “What?”
“Chloe,” I said, and tightened my grip on her hands. “I understand what you’re saying and we’ll make the adjustment. They asked me if I had any ceremony preferences and I only—”
She took a step back, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You?!” she shouted in the world’s most enormous overreaction, and I was actually a little impressed by how much anger and contempt she was able to form into a single word. “You gave him that? Those are the vows you chose?”
“I didn’t choose those lines specifically,” I said, horrified, albeit admittedly a little turned on by the furious rise and fall of her chest. “But that section was in the—”
“I don’t need you to explain anything to me. He’s reading from some ancient text that promotes the bullshit idea of patriarchal ownership. A version you picked out. I’ve been to church, Bennett. ‘Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands?’ Fuck. That. I didn’t put myself through college, and grad school, and an internship all while putting up with your condescending ass just so I could lose my identity and be known only as the little wife. And another thing,” she said, taking a much-needed breath and turning toward Kristin, who, could only stand there, frozen, lips parted in concern as if she were worried moving could trigger more Chloe rage. “What the fuck kind of mom-and-pop cleaners drops off thousands of dollars’ worth of dresses and tuxedos looking like they just came out of some frat boy’s duffel bag?”
Excitement, lust, and the thrill of anger blurred the edges of my vision. “What the fuck do you mean by my condescending ass? Maybe if you’d put as much effort into your personality as you did into behaving like a raging bitch all the time, I would have been a little more pleasant to be around!”
“Ha! And by pleasant, do you mean bringing you your coffee and stupid little chocolate Danishes and pretending not to notice the way you were staring at my tits?”