0927 Was Her Birthday, Not Ours Chapter 02
Dylan started the car.
His phone sat on the center console.
The screen lit up.
A text from Paige.
[Dylan, come to my place tomorrow after you finish the act.]
[I’ll give you a reward.]
He fumbled and swiped it away. “Client.”
I nodded. “Client sure knows how to reward people.”
Dylan’s face went stiff.
The car got quiet.
He pulled up to the apartment gate but didn’t get out right away.
His hand rested on the wheel, knuckles tapping twice.
Five years ago: company bankruptcy.
Two years ago: creditors blocking the door.
One year ago: he swore he’d pay back my parents’ old house.
Now he said, “Sienna, if something weird happens tomorrow, don’t overthink it.”
“Dylan.”
His throat moved. “Yeah?”
“If you ever stop loving me, will you just say it straight?”
He pulled me into a hug, chin pressing into my shoulder. “Don’t do this. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you.”
I looked at the red string bracelet on his wrist.
Same one Paige had shown off in her birthday post this year.
We got out. He followed me inside.
On the table were the documents I’d laid out.
My driver’s license, the engagement photo, the pre-marital health report, and the receipt copy from the day my parents sold their house.
Dylan’s face twitched when he saw the last one. “Why’d you bring that?”
“After we get the license tomorrow, we’ll swing by the bank.”
“For what?”
“To check on that money.”
His voice jumped. “Sienna, you don’t trust me?”
He’d used this trick for five years.
Every time I asked about money, he threw out “don’t trust me.”
And I’d shut up. Apologize. Be scared of making him uncomfortable.
Tonight, I pulled the engagement photo out of my bag and said, in a raspy voice, “Of course I do.”
He saw the picture and his shoulders relaxed. “That’s my good girl.”
Good girl.
He’d said that the night I lost the baby.
I was lying on a cot in the hospital hallway, my abdomen in knots.
He put his jacket over me. “Sienna, be good. I’ll go pay.”
Then he walked out the door.
Thirty minutes later, Paige’s feed updated.
Cake. Candles. A man’s wrist, a mole, and a watch.
That watch cost me three months of skipped lunches.
…
8:30 the next morning.
The County Clerk’s Office had a decent line.
Dylan looked at the line and sweat broke out on his temples.
His phone rang. Caller ID: Todd.
I knew that name. Todd was the friend who’d made the fake page.
“Dylan, system’s down! The appointment number won’t pull up. Can’t do it today!”
Dylan put it on speaker — like he wanted to make sure I heard.
He hung up, grabbed my shoulders. “Sienna, system crash.”
I looked up at the Clerk’s Office lobby.
A couple walked out holding their marriage certificate. The girl was stomping her feet laughing.
Dylan followed my gaze, his face freezing.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the Clerk’s Office number.
He slapped his hand over my screen. “What are you doing?”
I shook him off. The line connected.
“Hi, is the marriage license system working today?”
A keyboard clicked in the background. “Yes, it’s fine. Do you have an appointment number?”
The color drained from Dylan’s face.
I read out the number from the fake text.
The clerk said, “That number isn’t in our system. I’d recommend booking through the official portal.”
Dylan grabbed the phone and hung up. “Enough!”
His voice dropped. “Sienna, do you really have to make a scene here?”
“Why?”
“Then we’ll just walk in and take a number.”
He froze. “What?”
I pointed at the lobby. “You don’t need an appointment to get a walk-in ticket.”
Dylan stood there, face dark. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t move.
“Sienna, today’s not good.”
“What’s not good?”
“My mom just texted. She said today’s a bad astrological day for me.”
I started dialing his mom right there. Dylan lunged and grabbed my hand. “Don’t call!”
I looked at him. He gritted his teeth. “Can you not be so aggressive?”
A woman waiting in line couldn’t help herself. “Kid, if you don’t want to do it, just say so. Don’t waste her time.”
