By the time we were ready for the community barbecue, not only had we met a number of other people in the building, we’d acquired a hodge-podge of their unwanted belongings. So now we were the proud owners of: one small, wobbly table and three wooden chairs that all squeaked when you sat down; two completely mismatched night stands, one blue and one covered in mirrors; one floor lamp; four table lamps, none of which were the same; a desk chair; and best of all—a futon. A glorious metal futon that was going to mean I didn’t have to sleep on the floor that night.

I was feeling quite pleased with myself. Although I also felt quite grubby, since we’d spent hours carrying furniture and still didn’t have hooks to hang our shower curtain. I did my best, putting on clean clothes and washing my face, but I had definitely felt more presentable in my life.

Before we left, Beckett held out the little white box labeled Semi-Eternity. “Suit up,” he said. He had his own box in his other hand. We unwrapped them together and I held mine pinched between two fingers.

“Is this weird?” I asked. “It feels a little weird.”

“It’s weird.”

We looked at each other for a moment. I bit my lip, and then offered my ring to him. He gave a little nod and took it from me. I held out my left hand and he slid the ring onto my third finger, then gave me his ring. I put his on, feeling a strange electric shiver run through me. Somehow this felt more symbolic than the actual ceremony had been. Like we were actually officially married now.

“So, that’s it, then.”

“I guess so.” Beckett looked at his hand for a minute. “I hope this doesn’t turn my finger green.”

I gasped with fake shock. “How dare you insult my ring! This has been in my family for years!”

He grinned. “Uh huh.”

“All right, come on, hubs. Let’s go make like we like each other.”

We were among the last to arrive at the barbecue in the big grassy area behind the building. And as soon as we arrived, I could see that we were also probably the only people who didn’t bring a contribution to the feast.

“Oh god, we’re the tacky ones,” I said under my breath.

“It’s fine. We just got here, Em.”

“We should have at least brought beer.”

“Ugh. Beer.” Beckett slapped his forehead. “That should have been the first item on our list today. Fuck the hand soap.”

Ginny spotted us and waved from across the yard. There was a very tall man with her, with sandy blond hair and glasses.

“Hey you guys!” she called as we approached. “This is my husband, Tom.”

We did the introduction thing. Yes, we drove all the way from California. Yes, just got here today. Yes, that’s right, we didn’t have any furniture.

“So do you have a moving van on the way with the rest of your stuff?” Tom asked.

“No.” I shook my head, my cheeks growing warm. “We don’t have any.”

His eyes widened. “Oh. Wait—how long have you been married?”

We looked at each other, and Beckett answered. “Two days.”

That was all it took. Ginny and Tom could literally not believe it. They dragged us over to every other person they’d met in the building to tell them all that there were newlyweds among us. And the reaction was the same every time. They were all shocked that we’d come to Iowa, that we hadn’t had a honeymoon. That our wedding night had been spent in a cheap hotel in Colorado. That we’d only lived in a furnished college apartment before this.

Within a half hour, I’m pretty sure we were the unofficial mascots of Overlook. I showed my thirty-dollar wedding ring off time and again as they demanded to see it. Our neighbors were either all very polite, or the cheap jewelry was better looking than I thought, because everyone complimented it.

I apologized for not bringing anything to the barbecue, but the apology fell on deaf ears. The famous Midwestern niceness was almost overwhelming. They all wanted to do for us. Bring us food. Get us drinks. Offer to show us around town. And give us plenty of marriage advice.

When the clinking sound began, I didn’t know what to make of it, but it slowly got louder and louder until there was no ignoring it. I noticed everyone was looking at us with excitement in their eyes.

“Kiss her!” someone shouted, and the reality crashed home. It was the wedding reception thing. People were clinking their bottles of beer to get the bride and groom to kiss.

The bride and groom in this case just happened to be me and my fake husband.

“Kiss the bride!” someone else called out.

Beckett looked at me with the question all over his face, What do we do now?

I gave him a tiny shrug, but reached out my hand toward him. It’s okay, I wanted to say. We can do this.

He took my hand and stepped closer, bending to meet my lips with his. It was a dry, closed-lip kiss, just like the one at the chapel in Vegas.

“Boo! You call that a kiss?” a voice called.

Beckett released my hand to curve his arm around my waist and pull me close. He looked into my eyes for a second before leaning in for another kiss. This one wasn’t so chaste. His lips urged mine to part, and my pulse rushed as I felt the barest sweep of his tongue. If you’d asked me a week ago if I thought I’d ever have my friend Beckett's tongue in my mouth, the answer would have been a firm no. But to my shock, it wasn’t as weird as I would have thought.

I mean, it was weird. But it wasn’t gross, or bad. Just…new.

It was our first real kiss, but it wouldn’t be the last for the evening. The community of Overlook seemed galvanized by the idea of the newlyweds in the yard, and they seemed to all silently agree that this would be our ad hoc wedding reception. The glass clinking happened again just a few minutes later when we’d both drifted into separate conversations with our new neighbors.

“Go on!” the woman I was talking to urged, waving her hand in dismissal. “Give the people what they want.”

I found Beckett and kissed him, taking the lead this time, on tiptoe with my arms wrapped around his neck. I gave him a hard, cartoonish kiss that made everyone laugh, including us when I pulled back. Beckett rubbed his lips.

“Ow,” he said. “Ease up there, killer.”

“Sorry.” I sank back to my feet. “I’m just so hot for you.”

He laughed, unwinding my arms from his neck. “I mean, who can blame you?”

The same thing happened over and over. We’d drift apart, or he’d cross the yard to get a beer and suddenly someone would get the bright idea that it was time for another kiss from the newlyweds. The bottles clinked, and we’d drop what we were doing to meet in the middle of the yard for another kiss.

In a way, it was like jumping into the deep end of the pool. Nothing takes the awkwardness out of kissing your fake husband like having to do it ten times in the span of a couple hours.

Also, it turns out that kissing someone a lot breaks down other barriers. By the end of the party, I felt more comfortable when Beckett put his arm around my shoulders, or rested his hand on the small of my back. And it seemed natural that when I wanted to get his attention, I stroked my hand down his forearm.

We were going to be so great at this fake marriage thing. We definitely had everyone at the party fooled.

I wondered if I should feel bad for fooling them. They were all lovely people. Lots of students from other countries, and couples with new babies or little kids. We were young compared to a lot of them, but that didn’t seem to matter. I got invited to join a book club, go to a yoga class, and attend a leggings party—I wasn’t sure what that last one was. Part of me wanted to burst out with the truth. Just say, “Oh, and by the way, we only got married for the apartment. Just so you know.” But I didn’t.

As the sky darkened, the families with kids began to say their goodbyes. And it wasn’t too long before the gathering seemed to lose steam. Eventually we stood with Ginny and Tom, sipping our beers and slapping away mosquitos. Iowa had a lot of mosquitos. Who knew?

“You guys must be exhausted,” Ginny said.

“It’s been a long day,” I agreed.

“And tomorrow won’t be any shorter,” Beckett said. “We still have a lot to do.”

“Like get some of those things to hang the stupid shower curtain.” I made my thumb and ring finger into a circular shape.

“Like that.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, but my intermittent yawning seemed to be a sign to Ginny. “Come on, let’s get you guys inside.” She led the way into the building and up to the second floor. The apartment doors were staggered slightly, but ours was as close to directly across from theirs as it could be, so we were with Ginny and Tom until the last second.

“Well, good night. It was great meeting you,” I said.

“If there’s anything you need,” Tom said, “let us know.”

“I think we’ll be okay for the night, but thanks.” Beckett said, looking up after he unlocked the door. It was pitch dark inside. We hadn’t thought to leave any lights on.

“Enjoy your first night in the new place,” Ginny said, then her eyes widened. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to carry her across the threshold?”

“Uhh…” Beckett looked at me for help.

“Oh Gin, leave them alone,” Tom chided.

I flapped a dismissive hand. “We’ve been going in and out all day. I think the moment has passed.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re right. Sorry. I get a little excited.”

“Ginny loves weddings,” Tom said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and she blushed.

Beckett glanced at me, then Ginny and Tom, and back at me. “Come on, Emmy.” He beckoned me with both hands.

I stepped slowly closer and he suddenly scooped me off my feet into a cradle hold. I squealed in shock and wrapped my arms around his neck for safety. Beckett laughed and turned his body to angle my feet through the dark doorway.

Behind us, Ginny made a soft, approving noise and Tom laughed.

Beckett managed to get me through the door without smacking my head on the frame, which I appreciated a lot. Once inside, he turned quickly, making me squeal again and cling tighter to him.

“There,” he said, clearly for Ginny’s benefit. “Threshold crossed.”

“Yay!” Ginny golf clapped. “Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.”

“Good night,” Beckett said. “Em, grab the door.”

I cautiously released one hand from his shoulder and swung the door shut, calling, “Good night!”

When it clicked home, we were plunged into complete darkness. Beckett let me down to my feet slowly, but we stayed close together, clinging to each other until we each had a hold of our cell phones to use for light.

It was just enough illumination to avoid tripping over the stuff scattered on the floor until Beckett found one of the table lamps and cast a pale amber glow across the the living room. The bulb had come with the lamp, and it seemed to be a 15-watt at best. The light was barely enough to read by, but it kept me from tripping.

“I feel so gross,” I told Beckett. “I can’t believe I have to sleep like this.”

He thought for a moment. “I have an idea.” He disappeared into the bathroom and I heard the sound of vinyl crinkling. After a few minutes, he called, “I need something to hold this!”

In the bathroom, I found him holding the shower curtain over the rod like a towel hanging up to dry. It was uneven, with just a few inches bent over the rod, and the rest draped down to the top of the tub. He couldn’t let go or the whole thing would collapse.

“Ideas?” he said.

I racked my brain, dismissing a few bad ideas, like staples, and safety pins, before scurrying out to the living room and dredging up a roll of duct tape. When I returned, brandishing it like a prize, Beckett grinned.

“Ta da!”

“Brilliant.”

I pulled off strips of tape and together we got the temporary fix in place.

“Wow,” I said when we stepped back to admire our work. “That looks terrible.”

“Hey, do you want to shower or not?” Beckett asked.

“Shower.”

“Okay then. You can go first.”

It took a little searching by dim lamplight to find a towel and my shampoo, but it was worth it. That was one of the best damn showers of my life. I felt so much better by the time I got out, towel turban twisted around my hair and clean shorts and a t-shirt for sleeping on my ready-for-bed body.

Beckett was sitting in the lone desk chair, slowly spinning it while he looked at his phone.

“It’s all yours,” I said.

“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight,” he said without looking up.

“Huh?”

“You can have the futon. I’ll take the floor.”

“Beck…” My gut reaction was to protest, but at the same time, I really, really didn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He stilled the chair with his feet and looked up at me, blinking a few times as the lack of motion caught up with him.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I’m offering.”

“Okay, but tomorrow, you can have it.”

“Deal.” He stood and headed for the bathroom, not even breaking stride when he held up his hand for me to slap as he passed.

I found my pillow and a blanket, which I folded myself into taco style on the futon. I was too tired to find sheets, much less put them on. This would do for the night.

By the time Beckett got out of the bathroom, I was already asleep.