Chapter Two: The Courthouse Vows
The courthouse was empty that late afternoon.
Khloe wore her restaurant uniform under a worn coat. Jacob looked like he’d just survived an apocalypse. The woman at the front desk eyed them like a crooked painting.
“We’re here to get married,” Khloe said.
The woman raised an eyebrow. Then shrugged. “IDs and forms. We still have time today.”
Khloe filled everything out with trembling hands.
Jacob wrote with neat, elegant strokes. Handwriting that belonged on expensive letterhead. The receptionist stared at his signature.
“Everything alright?” Jacob asked.
“Fine.” She stamped the papers. “Judge’s office. Down the hall.”
The judge was an older man with white hair and thin glasses. He looked at Jacob. Then at Khloe.
“Are you sure you want to marry this man, miss?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.”
The judge shrugged. “Let’s make it official.”
The ceremony lasted four minutes.
Flat words. Formal glances. No rings. No flowers. No witnesses except a bored security guard and a janitor mopping the floor.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Jacob leaned in. Pressed his lips to hers. Quick. Gentle. Almost clinical.
But something flickered in his eyes when he pulled back.
Khloe felt it too.
She ignored it.
They walked out with a marriage certificate and a plan that made no sense.
“So now what?” she asked.
“Now you take me to your place. We need to show up clean and presentable at your grandmother’s house this weekend.”
She laughed nervously.
“I just married a stranger. Oh my God. I married a stranger.”
“I’m a polite stranger.” Jacob walked beside her like it was normal. “And I know how to do dishes.”
Her apartment was small but tidy.
A studio. Open kitchen. Sofa bed. Tiny bathroom.
She’d lived here for four years.
“The bathroom’s over there,” she said.
Jacob nodded. Took a clean towel. Closed the door.
Khloe sat on the couch and buried her face in her hands.
What am I doing with my life?
The shower turned on. Water hit tile. Then silence. Then the door opened.
Jacob stepped out wrapped in just a towel.
His hair was wet. Water dripped down his broad shoulders, his defined chest, his stomach muscles that looked carved from marble.
Khloe’s eyes widened.
“Wow,” she blurted.
Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just—” She stammered. “You don’t exactly look malnourished.”
He laughed softly. “I work out when I can. Pull-up bars in the park. Running after buses.”
She nodded. Tried not to stare. Failed.
That wasn’t the body of a homeless man. That was the body of someone who’d had personal trainers.
She looked away.
“Put on some clothes. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”
