The judge who married them was a young, gym-bodied Chinese-American gay guy in jeans and a T-shirt who’d come in to his office during his vacation to “help people make history,” he told them. Would Clark have changed his mind, would Tanner have come to his senses, if they’d had to wait around all day to see a judge? As it was, they’d barely known Tess and Cecilia an hour when they stood beside them as their Best Men, and their engagement spanned all of about fifteen minutes.
“Do you, Tanner Wojciech Bradac—”
“How do you know how to say that?” Tanner interrupted, unused to hearing his middle name unmangled.
The judge laughed. “My ex was Polish.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. He was a disaster. Anyway, do you, Tanner Wojciech Bradac, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”
“You
