Despite the harried situation, despite the cramped room and sterile atmosphere, butterflies attacked the lining of my stomach, and my heart doubled in size as I looked at Reyes.

I was marrying him.

Him.

The man of my dreams was about to be mine, forever and ever, amen.

The words spoken by the judge slipped in and out of my consciousness, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute. I was about to be a married woman with a baby on the way. And I’d never been happier. Domestic bliss had never been part of my plan, but apparently someone had other ideas. If, that was, we survived the Twelve.

“May I have the rings?” Judge Quimby asked, and Garrett presented rings we’d each secretly given him.

Mine for Reyes was a simple band with both gold and silver woven together. In my mind it represented the two of us and how our lives had been woven together since birth. I went first, speaking the traditional vows that for the first time in my life really meant something. They were no longer just words, but a true testament to the commitment I was making to the man I loved.

He stood straight and proud, but when I went to slip the ring on his finger, I felt the smallest tremble, as though he was just as stunned as I. And hopefully just as honored.

Then it was his turn. He took the ring he’d been saving and slipped it partway on my finger, holding it there while he repeated his vows. I was so busy staring at him, waiting for those two words that would make him mine, that I didn’t notice the ring until he said, “I do,” and finished sliding it onto my finger. Then I gasped. I looked up at him, then back down at the gorgeous work of art that rested on my hand.

“Reyes,” I whispered, “it’s gorgeous.”

Two perfectly matched dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. “It matches your eyes.”

The amber gem that sat in a flurry of gold waves looked like fire, and indeed, the gem was the color of my irises. “What is it?” I asked him.

“It’s called an orange diamond.”

I looked up. “Where did you get it?”

He leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “From hell.”

I stilled, completely taken aback.

“It’s from where I was born, deep in the hottest part of what you call Hades. Not many people know this, but we have the best diamonds there. Lots of heat. Lots of pressure. Perfect conditions.”

The judge spoke about commitment and not allowing men to put us under – under what, I had no idea – while we spoke softly. “Why would you do that? Why would you risk a trip back there, Reyes?”

“I got in and out with no one the wiser. And the look on your face was worth it.”

I wiped all expression from my face, then examined the ring again. I didn’t know what to say. Before I could say anything, Reyes pulled me into his arms and kissed me, his lips scalding against mine. A thrill ran from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. We were no longer affianced. We were the real deal, baby, in a state of wedded bliss. I was so putting this on Friendbook.

Amber sighed aloud and the room erupted in laughter and applause. But only for a minute before the charge nurse shushed us with a stellar death glare. Then she smiled brightly and I wondered if she was normally on medication.

“We bought a cake,” she said, bringing in an ice cream cake that was clearly meant for a child’s birthday party. It was beyond perfect.

We stood around eating frozen cake and drinking ginger ale from cone-shaped cups as Uncle Bob told stories from my childhood, doing his darnedest to embarrass me. We didn’t have much time before we had to get home and pack. Apparently, Osh had a place set up, an abandoned convent in the Jemez Mountains that had been built on Native American sacred ground: double whammy.

I gazed lovingly at my ring again. “A diamond from hell. Who would have guessed?”

“I helped pick out the setting,” Gemma said, clearly missing what I’d said, as she spoke from a few feet away.

“Me, too!” The corners of Amber’s smile almost reached her ears.

“The gold is very special, too.” I looked back at Reyes.

“And where is it from? The gates of heaven?”

He grinned. “Yes, but I’m not allowed in. I had to have it sent over by courier.”

I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. About any of it. But I didn’t care. I was married.

No.

I looked up at him. We were married. And knocked up. Did life get any better?

I grabbed the gift bag – aka a Walmart shopping bag – I’d brought from home and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, squinting in suspicion at me.

“It’s your wedding present.” I grew excited as he opened the bag and took out the T-shirt I’d bought him.

He read it aloud: “‘I don’t need Google. My wife knows everything.’”

I giggled like a mental patient as Reyes bent to plant a kiss just below my ear.

“I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“And I can’t believe I don’t get to call you my affianced anymore. I really like that word.”

He laughed softly, then scanned the room. But the longer we stood there, the more distant he became. He put the T-shirt back in the bag, pretending to be happy, and my heart lurched in alarm. Was he regretting marrying me already? It’d been only ten minutes. If so, we were in a lot of trouble.

I took him aside as Ubie told the story of how I got the scar along my hairline – which was totally his fault for leaving a chain saw next to a stuffed raccoon in the first place. What child wouldn’t want a piece of that?