“To City Hall,” Andrew says. “We need to get a marriage license first. Why do you look so surprised to hear me say that? I thought we had an agreement.”
“It just seems a little sudden, doesn’t it?” Andrea says, fighting an intense wave of nausea.
“At least I’m dressed for the occasion,” Andrew says, looking at her white tracksuit out of the corner of his eye.
“The outfit doesn’t matter,” Andrea says, desperately trying to think of an excuse. “The problem is the date. Today is a bad day for marriage—I’ve checked the horoscopes and everything.”
“Really?” Andrew asks with a smirk. “I didn’t know you believed in fortune telling.”
“Sure,” Andrea says. “And I’m telling you this date is bad. Anyone who gets married today will probably have a divorce. And if there isn’t a divorce, the wife wi
