She smiled.
“You’re acting like this is an actual wedding.”
For a moment, Larry had gone quiet.
Then he smiled.
“First marriage. Let me be nervous.”
I laughed then.
Sitting in that courthouse, I couldn’t.
Margaret took the chair beside me.
“Did Larry tell you why he wanted to marry you?”
“He gave me a reason.”
I explained the letter.
The story about burial arrangements.
His confession that he had made the situation sound more desperate because he knew I would help if there was a problem to solve.
Margaret listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she didn’t defend him.
“That wasn’t fair to you.”
I looked at her.
“He knew you would say yes to a problem,” she continued. “Larry was always much better at asking someone for practical help than asking someone to choose him.”
I looked down at his signature.
“What was I actually saying yes to?”
