Work Text:
List of things that Shaak needs to do today:
- Grocery shopping
- Figure out why the internet isn’t turned on in her apartment yet
- Laundromat
She knows, logically, that the grocery shopping should be saved until the very end, since she’s going to be getting perishables and doesn’t want to leave those in the car while she’s doing all the other stuff she has to do (God only knows how long those other things are going to take her), but she’s also aware of the odds that all three of the things are going to get done today are astronomically low, and she absolutely cannot skip the grocery shopping part of this trip. So, she goes to the grocery store first.
One of the reasons she’d chosen to move here, to this town, is because there’s a moderately sized bulk-ingredient co-op in place of some massive chain grocery store, and farmer’s markets more days of the week than not. Unfortunately, today’s one of the not days, but the co-op’s still there, and Shaak will take it.
She gathers her jars and bottles for her pantry staples, stored neatly in a crate she’d made in high school specifically for this purpose (never mind that such stores didn’t exist where she’d lived in high school), and her canvas shopping bags, and makes her way inside.
She spends a lot of time going back and forth and up and down the aisles, hunting the items of her list one-by-one even if it would be easier to go aisle-by-aisle and figure out what on the list she can find in each one. She’s less likely to skip things, this way, and the last thing that she wants is to get home and realize that she’d forgotten to by something like garlic powder.
She gets distracted in the chip aisle. And the sweets. And the soft drinks, with its fancy, organic, craft sodas.
“You know, honey, I don’t think you should go grocery shopping alone, anymore,” her father had told her when she was sixteen, the first time she'd been able to drive herself anywhere and had eagerly offered to help her dads with errands.
“Nonsense!” her other dad had argued. “She’s doing a great job!”
“There’s a reason I don’t let you do the grocery shopping alone, either.”
Cart increasingly full and still missing dairy and meat products, Shaak crosses the last of the shelf-stable items off her list. Milk and cheese, at least, are easy. Meat is…less so.
She’s pretty sure she’s drooling.
She doesn’t think that she’s ever seen steaks so red, before, and certainly not nearly so many options available at a store. Standard, traditional beef steaks, but bison and venison and—
“And those four deer steaks, please.”
Strike the venison, then. Shaak’s not even upset, even if she’d been really, really excited about being able to sink her teeth into one of them. There’s plenty of other options for her, and she’s sure that won’t be the last time that they have those deer steaks here.
“Alright, thank you so much!”
“No problem, Lu.” The worker at the counter smiles at the woman in a hijab in front of Shaak, the one who’d taken the last of the venison, and Shaak steps aside so that she’s not in her way as she tries to turn around.
Means to, anyway.
She can’t help but stare at the cart, piled high with all of Shaak’s favorite things from what she can see—favorite flavor of ice cream and favorite brand of cookies and the only leafy greens that her dads had been able to get her to eat when she was a kid, perfectly ripe strawberries and blood oranges and blackberries and mangoes.
Tearing her eyes away from the cart leads to looking up at the face of its shopper, shutting Shaak’s brain down of any thought more complex than gay, gay, gay, gay.
“Hello,” she says, smiling politely at Shaak the way that people in small towns tend to do when they find somebody waiting in line behind them. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before?”
Gay, gay, gay, gay.
“Marry me?”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before?”
Luminara almost facepalms; she’s turning into her mother, and she’s barely old enough to drink. Sure, the woman in line behind her is obviously new—to town, probably, not just the co-op—but that doesn’t mean that she needs to comment on it in the most obviously I’m not asking if you’re new but are you kind of way. And she’s so cute, too, dark skin with lighter vitiligo patches over her eyes and her hair in two thick braids over her shoulders, and Luminara has just broadcasted that she’s basically a middle-aged PTA mom in a twenty-one-year-old lesbian’s body.
“Marry me?”
The thing is, the woman doesn’t look like she was expecting to say the words any more than Luminara was expecting to hear them. And that would ( should ) make it easy to just brush it off, laugh and make some sort of quip about dinner or maybe next time, maybe exchange numbers and start with a date, at least, or even just make a new friend, and she means to, but…
“Sure, I don’t have any other big plans tonight.”
Technically true; it’s Ramadan, which means that she doesn’t actually have to be home for what most people would consider family dinner until sundown, hours and hours away. All she really has to do is take the groceries home real quick, but she can just set them inside and make her brother put them away.
The woman (her fiancee?) stares at her with wide eyes. “Yeah, cool, me neither. Nothing super pressing, anyway. Just, uh, gotta take this stuff home. You know?”
Luminara nods, as though she’s following this whole conversation and that this isn’t the most insane thing she’s ever done. “Yeah, me too. Meet you at the courthouse in an hour?”
What are you doing? Stop!
“We each bring a witness and use standard vows?”
“Sounds like a plan!”
So much for laundry and internet, Shaak muses, tossing the cold stuff into the fridge and freezer haphazardly. She can arrange them properly later.
Unless she gets to the courthouse and finds out that this whole thing was a joke. But better to at least learn where the courthouse even is and find out that her maybe-fiancee was actually just under the impression they were doing a bit then assume that they were doing a bit and accidentally leave the most gorgeous woman Shaak’s ever had the pleasure of meeting at the altar.
More distressingly, somehow, is the fact that she’d offered to bring a witness of her own, despite the fact that she’s only lived in this town for three days and doesn’t know anybody.
Except…
Last night, her neighbor had knocked on her door with a covered casserole dish with chicken and rice because he’d noticed that she’d just moved in and he wasn’t sure if she’d had the chance to do any grocery shopping, and Shaak had eaten dinner with him because she wasn’t going to just take the food and kick him out, that would have been rude.
She goes across the hall and knocks on the door he’d said was his now, and hopes that he’s not at work, even though it’s midday on a Tuesday.
She’s about to throw in the towel and try her luck with something else when the door opens.
“Everything okay?” Cody asks, leaning against the doorframe and giving Shaak a once-over like he’s trying to find any injuries. He’d mentioned last night that he’s the oldest of six boys, she’s not surprised he’s in crisis-management mode just because she visited when he wasn’t counting on it.
“This is going to sound crazy,” Shaak begins, “but I might be getting married in forty minutes and I’m supposed to bring a witness but I don’t actually know anybody because I just moved here. Are you busy right now?”
Cody blinks at her. Stares at her for so long that Shaak wonders if she should maybe find a better way to explain (really though, she’s covered all the basics).
“So you’re that kind of lesbian.”
More than just the basics, it would seem.
“Yeah, I know.”
This is stupid. This is so stupid. Luminara bangs her head on the steering wheel a couple times, and only jumps a little bit when there’s a tap on the passenger side window.
It’s only Ben.
“Am I going to regret asking you what it is that we’re doing here?” he asks, as Luminara unlocks the door so that he can climb into the car himself. “Because you don’t seem to type to be here for a speeding ticket, and you don’t exactly need me here for that, anyway.”
Right. She’s been trying to figure out how to explain this one to him, and she still has no idea.
Best just get it over with, she supposes.
“Um, well. I met this girl at the co-op, and—”
Ben holds up a hand. This might actually have been much easier than Luminara had expected.
“Lu. My very best friend. My favorite person in this whole state. Please, please, tell me that you’re simply helping this new friend with her own speeding ticket.”
She bangs her head on the steering wheel again.
Ben doesn’t say anything else for a long while. Luminara feels like it’s worse than if he’d told her outright that this is ridiculous.
Finally, “Have you at least told your parents that you’re apparently getting married this afternoon?”
Luminara has not. She’s still not entirely certain that she is getting married.
“Well, I mean…”
Ben sighs. It’s surprisingly judgemental. “So you’re just going to show up to iftar with a wife and hope that your parents don’t disown you because you married somebody you only just met. While shopping for the food to be consumed during iftar.”
“That is the plan, yes.” It is not the best plan.
She’s waiting for Ben to point out that it probably wasn’t actually that serious and that she’s probably not actually going to show up when another car pulls up beside them, and Luminara’s new apparent bride-to-be climbs out of the passenger side.
“Ah, yes,” Ben says, following her gaze and seeing her for the first time. “I see what’s happened, here.”
Luminara turns to swat him, but Ben suddenly ducks down, as though he’s trying to hide from somebody. Ridiculous, since he can’t possibly know her, because she’s new.
“This cannot possibly be happening,” he grumbles.
Luminara looks back out the window. The other witness has gotten out of the car, and he seems to be sending Ben into his own gay crisis mode.
“Oh, please tell me you know him.” Every good wedding should have a layer of drama, after all, and it would be a shame if hers doesn’t.
“I will leave,” Ben warns. “You need me, I can just fucking leave.”
“I’m sure we can ask somebody else very nicely to stand in,” Luminara points out. “Who is he?”
Ben groans, instead of answering.
Perfect.
Luminara opens the car door and climbs out, greeting the other two and introducing herself to the man—apparently called Cody, very friendly, very Ben’s type.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Cody says, holding a hand out for Luminara to shake. “Gotta say, love a good wedding. I’m assuming we’ll be postponing the reception a couple extra weeks?”
Luminara shrugs. “Or just a couple hours. Once the sun goes down, I can do whatever I want, although I do still have to break the fast with my family.”
Cody nods. “Shaak will keep me posted with whichever once you decide.” He peers around her, like he’s trying to see inside her car. “Is your friend okay?”
“He’s having a gay crisis.” May as well be up front. “He’ll be fine.”
The ceremony, as it were, is uneventful. The biggest problem—or, rather, the closest thing to a problem—is that they don’t actually have rings, on account of the fact that neither of them had a plan to get married more than an hour ago.
Luckily, Luminara’s friend, Ben, has some plastic vending machine rings in his car that another friend of his had bullied him into getting at the mall last month, and they actually fit on their fingers well enough to do the job.
Shaak’s dads are going to think this entire thing is so funny.
Cody had given Shaak a ride to the courthouse, explaining the offer by pointing out that she’d probably want to ride off into the afternoon sun with her new wife, instead of getting into her own car and following her to wherever they’re going next.
(Where are they going next? Oh, God, is Shaak’s immediate next thing after getting married going to be going to the laundromat? Why didn’t she think that through?)
(Why didn’t she think any of this through?)
The magistrate looks between the four of them, the marriage license and the rings that obviously came from the pizza place in the mall, and asks them if they’re absolutely certain.
What a wonderful out that they’re being given. Shaak’s not even wearing sleeves, and the holes in her jeans are not artful.
“Absolutely!” she says with a grin.
Not even ten minutes later, Shaak’s being told that she can kiss her brand new wife. An offer which she accepts with gusto, which is met with enthusiasm.
Less than an hour after arriving at the courthouse, Shaak climbs into the passenger seat of Luminara’s car, cheap plastic ring on her left hand and a marriage certificate in a legal folder stored carefully in the trunk.
“We should go to Michael’s to get that framed,” Shaak suggests.
“We should try one of the thrift stores first,” Luminara counters. “Find the ugliest, gaudiest frame we can find.”
“I love you.”
They end up going to four thrift stores before finding an incredibly ornate fake-gilded frame that looks like it should hold something in some high end art gallery. It costs them four dollars and is three times bigger than they need it to be.
“So, anything else you wanna do before iftar?” Luminara asks, as they load both the frame and also an ugly table lamp that Shaak had found and bought because she needs a lamp into the car. “I don’t think we should start the honeymoon until I’m allowed to properly hydrate for it, you know?”
Shaak drops the ugly lamp. Luckily, it just lands on a couple blankets, and it only falls about seven inches. “I—what?”
Luminara shrugs. “Ramadan. Can’t drink water.” No, Shaak knew that. “Also, technically my thoughts are supposed to stay pure, but I’m not super sure if the definition of purity changes now that I’m married. But mostly it’s the water thing.”
Right. Of course. Shaak supposes she can’t fault her that logic.
“Well, I did kind of need to do a couple other things today,” she admits. “I was just going to save them for tomorrow, but…”
“No, we can do them today!” Luminara closes the trunk of the car. “Domestic bliss, or whatever.”
They spend their time at the laundromat telling each other about their families and where they grew up. Or, well, Shaak tells Luminara about where she grew up. Luminara grew up in the same house she lives in now, same town and same people. Not a whole lot to tell Shaak that she’s not going to find out for herself. But Shaak grew up in New England, and she feels like it couldn’t be more different.
“So, what brings you all the way out here?”
Shaak shrugs, watching her clothes spin in the dryer. “Seemed as good a place as any, I guess. Rent’s relatively cheap. Lot of good locally sourced food.”
Some would call that fate. Luminara’s more than happy to be one of them.
“The locally sourced food is nice,” she agrees, instead of being weird. Technically, she’s allowed to be weird and sappy now, since Shaak’s her wife, but she’s only known the other woman for about an hour longer than she’s been married. “And I suppose I should be grateful for the low rent now.”
They haven’t actually talked about that; Shaak presumably has a one-bedroom apartment because she hadn’t been planning on getting married immediately after arriving in town, and Luminara still lives with her family. It’s more likely (and also more reasonable) that she’ll move in with Shaak in her apartment than the two of them living in Luminara’s childhood room. The good news, she supposes, is that Shaak had found that apartment with the expectation that she’d need to pay the rent all on her own, and so that means that they’ll have plenty of money left after bills.
Shaak grins, like it hadn’t occurred to her yet that she’d basically gotten a roommate without doing the work of trying to find a roommate.
“Yeah, I guess so!”
They finish the wait in comfortable silence—something Luminuara hadn’t thought possible with a near total stranger—and then it’s time, as Shaak proclaims with false enthusiasm, “to waste the rest of our natural lives with the internet company!”
Luminara would think this particular declaration dramatic if she hadn’t been along with her parents when they attempted to shut off their cable a few years ago. Sure enough, Shaak spends so long arguing with the employees that she starts to wonder if they’ll manage to make it out in time for iftar in the first place. Impressive, since sundown comes two and a half hours after the office closes.
“No, I don’t want to bundle it with phone service,” Shaak says, face covered by her hands. She’s trying very hard not to be outright rude to them, and that, in turn, is making it exceptionally difficult for Luminara to keep her thoughts pure. “This is not the ‘90s, I do not need dial-up. I want internet, and only internet, and I want to know why this is the second time I’ve had to come out here when I’ve only lived in town for a week.”
“You know, honey,” Luminara offers, setting a hand on Shaak’s shoulder the way she’s seen her mother do for her father when he gets too heated, “Ben says T-Mobile’s internet is pretty good. Maybe it’d just be easier for everyone if we tried them. Since they never got our internet turned on, it’s not like they have to turn it off.”
She doesn’t even know if Shaak has T-Mobile. But it spurns the employees here into action, and they’re out within twenty minutes (with, to Shaak’s surprise, a price-lock clause in their new contract).
“Glad that worked," Shaak admits, climbing into the car and scrubbing her hands over her face. “I don’t have T-Mobile, and I’m really not looking to get off my dads’ phone plan anytime soon.”
“You know who else doesn’t have T-Mobile?” Luminara grins as she starts the car up. “Ben.”
Shaak lets herself be dragged around town after her errands are done and the groceries form the morning’s shopping trip are more properly put away then haphazardly strewn about the floor. Luminara, having grown up here, knows all the best places to kill time.
“My parents used to bring me and my brother here every week during the summers,” Luminara admits, stepping into the cool air of the first arcade Shaak’s been in since she was seventeen. “The games were cheap and the food’s halal since the owner’s Muslim.”
Shaak’s going to have to learn all the intricacies of halal, now that she’s married to someone who keeps the diet. Luckily, she’s pretty sure the co-op meat counter must be safe, since Luminara was in line with her today.
What she isn’t sure about, unfortunately, is whether it’d be rude to eat something in front of her new wife while her wife is fasting. But she hadn’t eaten lunch today, and it’s close to her normal dinnertime. She’s afraid to ask.
In the end, she doesn’t have to.
Luminara hears the rumble of her stomach over the cheerful sound of the skeeball machine celebrating Shaak’s nearly perfect score. Shaak’s only a little mortified—the skeeball machine is not quiet. “You can eat something if you want,” she says, not unkindly. “The cheese fries here are fantastic, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
They’d certainly looked fantastic, when Shaak had seen a basket in a little boy’s hand twenty minutes ago. But it still feels intrinsically wrong to be going over to the snack bar and not even offer to grab something for Luminara—who is not only her wife but also technically her date. But offering to get something for somebody who can’t have anything at all definitely is rude, so she’s not going to do that.
“You’re sure?”
Luminara gets something of a glint in her eye. “Hey, if you weren’t so hungry, I bet you’d have gotten a higher score.”
Shaak knows a challenge when she hears one. “You bet your ass I would have.”
Luminara’s family lives towards the setting sun. Shaak grumbles endearingly at the sun shining directly into her eyes, which is why Luminara drives past the first two gas stations before taking pity and pulling into the third for a pair of sunglasses. “Good practice to have a pair for each car,” she explains. Shaak chooses a pair of reflective knock-off Aviators, and Luminara has to stare resolutely ahead to keep from the temptation to pull over and be a bit late to the family meal.
How important is breaking the day’s fast with her parents and brother, really?
Shaak’s looking out the window, at least, which makes it a little easier for Luminara to focus. She’s pretty sure that if she’d been looking at her that it’d be all over. “It’s so pretty out here,” she mumbles, gesturing at all the mountains visible from all angles. “I think I’ll really like living here.”
“Imagine it’s a real nice change of scenery,” Luminara muses. “You said you were from the coast?”
Shaak nods. “Not like, a beachy kind of coast, though. The rocky kind. Different kind of pretty. Easy to get desensitized to it.”
Luminara can kind of relate. Most days, the mountains are just that—mountains. But some days, they’re the most beautiful thing that Luminara’s ever seen. Today, with the setting sun bathing her brand new wife in golden light, the mountains don’t even register.
Straight ahead, she reminds herself. At this point, she’s not even sure that she’d be willing to wait long enough to pull over.
Luckily, her home isn’t that far away. Before she can do something stupid, she’s already pulling into the driveway.
Shaak lets out a low whistle. “Nice house,” she says, which seems like it doesn’t quite articulate what she actually thinks.
“They bought it before the housing market crashed,” Luminara explains, feeling for the first time all day like the way she spent the day was maybe not the best idea. She doesn’t regret it, per se, but she definitely is not looking forward to explaining to her parents that she married a woman that she only just met.
Not to mention the way that her brother will make fun of her relentlessly for having an overdue rebellious phase and deciding that this was what to do with it.
“We’re here!” she calls, opening the front door and letting Shaak go in first. “Amir did tell you I was bringing a guest, right?”
“Of course,” her mother says, stepping into the living room but stopping short upon seeing Shaak. “We did, however, assume that you meant Ben.”
“That’s cuz it’s always Ben,” Amir adds helpfully, poking his head out from the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me it was someone we’ve never met!”
Luminara feels only a little bad; her mother’s already removed her headscarf. She removes her own; figures it’s a good place to start. “Mom, Dad. Amir. This is Shaak Ti. We got married this afternoon.”
Shaak catches very little of her introduction, caught up in the fact that Luminara had removed her hijab with absolutely no hesitation. She’s familiar enough with hijabi customs to know that this counts as a Big Deal.
She catches the part where Luminara tells her family that they’re married, and she catches the stunned silence of her mother, the mumbled oh shit of her brother, and the sound of cutlery clattering to the kitchen floor.
She gives a wave with her left hand, figuring the sight of the ring would probably help.
“Luminara,” Shaak’s new father-in-law says with a stunning amount of calm, “would you please help me in the kitchen?”
“Of course.” Luminara slides her hand into Shaak’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze before joining her father in the other room.
Her mother gives Shaak a hostess’ smile. “Would you like a glass of water, Shaak?”
Shaak nods, because a glass of water will give her literally anything to do that isn’t just sit in the living room awkwardly.
She takes the seat on the couch that she’s directed to, and Amir leans over the back of the couch beside her. “You really my new sister-in-law?” he asks, sounding exactly like the nineteen-year-old he is.
“Sure am.” Any sign of hesitation will doubtless be spotted like sharks with blood in the water. “Lovely courthouse ceremony.”
“And how long have you and Luminara known each other?” her mother asks, coming back into the living room and handing Shaak a glass of ice water. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I met her this morning,” Shaak admits. “At the co-op.”
Amir snorts, right in her ear. “At the co-op!” he croons. “What, did you take the last of the kebabs or something?”
“She was in front of me. She took the last of the deer steaks.” And also is the most beautiful woman that Shaak has ever had the pleasure of seeing in her life. “The proposal just sort of slipped out.”
“Well, I suppose it counts for something that you didn’t change your mind when she agreed,” her mother concedes, settling down in one of the armchairs. “Welcome to the family, Shaak.”
It’s a much warmer welcome than Shaak had been expecting.
He’s not angry, at least, Luminara thinks, watching her father pile serving plates high with different foods. Not thrilled, obviously, not that she can fault him that, but he’s certainly not about to do something drastic. Like disown her.
“Do you know what my first thought was, when your mother and I found out that we would be having a baby girl?” he asks her, handing her the bowl of chaat.
“I always assumed it was something along the lines of, Allah help me when this girl gets her first period.” He had not handled it particularly well. Luminara hadn’t exactly panicked, when she saw the blood, because her mother had been sure to teach her what to expect, but her mother had also been away on a business trip when it happened and Luminara had been afraid to tell her father. He had panicked when he saw the bloodstained sheets.
“No, Lulu.” He has not called her Lulu since she was twelve. This is not a particularly good sign. “It was more to the tune of I cannot wait to walk my baby girl down the aisle.”
Oh. Well. Luminara hadn’t expected that.
“And I know,” he continues, “that you are an grown woman, and you can make your own choices. And if those choices are eloping with another woman you only just met, then far be it from me to try and convince you that it’s not too late to change your mind.”
It’s not, technically. Shaak probably wouldn’t even be upset.
“If this does all work out,” Luminara offers, because she may have been trying hard not to think about it but there is a very good chance that it won’t, “then in a few years we’ll have a vow renewal and it’ll be everything that the actual wedding wasn’t.” She kisses her father on the cheek. “Including the part where you get to walk me down the aisle.”
Dinner is…an interesting affair. Shaak has never been a part of a Ramadan meal, since she’s never been more than a passing acquaintance with anybody who observes Ramadan, but she certainly hadn’t been expecting a meal primarily made up of snack-type foods.
“Where’d the rings come from?” Amir asks, mouth full of some kind of dried fruit (Shaak thinks they might be dates; she hadn’t asked). His parents both scold him for talking with his mouth full as Luminara giggles.
“Ben had them in his car,” she explains. “Said he and Quinlan got them in a vending machine at the mall a while back. Didn’t know what to do with them, so he just left them in his glove compartment until we needed them.”
Her mother tuts. “Well, that won’t do. We’ll take you into town for some proper rings tomorrow.”
Shaak chokes on her chunk of deer meat (they’d turned them into kebabs and they are so good ). “That’s—You don’t—” She can’t seem to find the words to tell them how unnecessary that is. And it’s incredibly unnecessary—wedding rings are expensive, and far too much to spend on a whim. She’d been thinking about asking Luminara if she wanted to look into real rings on their first anniversary, or something.
“We will not have our daughter and her new wife wearing wedding rings that cost fifty cents apiece,” Luminara’s mother says firmly. “You’ll meet us here at nine-thirty.”
Shaak doesn’t really know what to say to that, either. She doesn’t start work for a few more days, and she’d cleared out the last of her to-do list today. She’s out of reasons to refuse that don’t include pointing out that things might not work out.
“Thank you,” she settles on, especially since the tone had brokered no further arguing.
“For what it’s worth,” Luminara offers, “Ben did say they were from a seventy-five cent machine. Fifty percent upcharge.”
The withering look she receives from her mother has absolutely no effect on her. Shaak may actually be a more than a little bit in love already.
Luminara doesn’t feel up to driving back to Shaak’s (their) apartment. Shaak, thankfully, doesn’t question it, taking the keys Luminara hands her and already pulling the navigation up on her phone.
“Your family’s nice,” Shaak says softly, after a couple minutes of driving in silence. “I thought they’d fucking hate me.”
That’s a fair assumption, Luminara supposes. Random stranger comes to town, elopes with their daughter not one hour after meeting her. Allah only knows what she must have said or done, because Luminara never would have thought she’d do something like this yesterday. Even Ben had been surprised that she actually went through with this.
Even Ben was worried Luminara might be disowned.
“We’re a very what’s done is done kind of family,” Luminara admits. “Although I did wonder if this might be the limit on that particular philosophy.” She looks down at the cheap plastic ring, tacky oversized purple rectangle that takes up the whole first knuckle of her finger. Shaak’s own ring is an orange “gem” cut in an oval, no less tacky or oversized. It’d been funny, slipping them on each other’s fingers, but she’d assumed that they probably wouldn’t actually wear them all that often. “The offer to take us ring shopping was a surprise.”
“Was that an offer?” Shaak shoots her a grin to show that she’s joking. “Usually you can turn those down.”
It’s not too late to change your mind. What it probably was, Luminara muses, was a final lifeline. If you’re serious about this, then you’re going to commit.
“It was an offer,” Luminara says. “Although technically, it was more of an ultimatum.” Ben likes to call them offers with extreme conditions.
“I see.” Shaak stares straight ahead. “Meet them at the house at nine-thirty or go to the courthouse right when they open, right?”
“They didn’t mean it like that.” It didn’t come out right. “It’s like my mom said: if we’re going to be married, they want us to have real rings. If you don’t want them to buy us real rings, then we can…try again later.”
It startles a laugh out of Shaak, and then Luminara starts laughing, until Shaak has to pull the car over while they both giggle helplessly, so hard neither of them can breathe.