He finally picked up the last one. His voice came through sharp, hostile, dripping with impatience.
"Stop hounding me! What's the rush? One more day, one more hour, what difference does it make? I already said I'd do it. You think I'm going to run?"
"If you're that desperate to get married, grab some random guy off the street."
He hung up.
The pain hit before I could stop it. A sharp, involuntary sting behind my sternum.
When I was twenty, he'd announced to the whole world that I was his future wife. And back then, what he'd said was—
"None of you are allowed to go after her or give her a hard time."
And yet, the person who hurt me over and over again was him.
Twenty minutes later, his assistant arrived with his ID.
The man greeted us with polite detachment.
"Mr. Swanson is unavailable. It's no longer required for both parties to be present in person to register the marriage, so he asks that Mrs. Swanson and Miss Farley find a way to handle it on their own."
No longer required to be present in person, perhaps, but the photo for the certificate still needed to be taken with the actual registrant there.
I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted me to be humiliated in front of everyone.