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With the launch of the Hail Mary fast approaching, I was beginning to worry about Stratt.
"The trial alone will be terrible," I babbled one day, jogging along behind her natural fast walking pace. "And they'll call me in as a witness — there has to be some way I can refuse to testify, right?"
Stratt actually paused. I couldn't remember the last time I'd made her think hard about something. "Yes," she said, "there is."
I felt an instant wave of relief. "Great!" I tried to grin at her, but she started walking again and missed it. "Let's do that, then. I was the only one there for Bob Redell, the Antarctica decision ... without me, what kind of a case do they have?"
She shot me a look that very clearly said, you're insane. "Thanks, Grace."
"Surely it'll help!"
When we got to the car, there was a suit jacket on the seat.
I held it out to the driver. "Excuse me, I think this is —"
"It's yours, put it on," Stratt said in a crisp voice.
I looked down at my periodic table shirt and back up at her. "When I look like this?"
"Do you want me to show you how to put a jacket on?" she snapped. "Get in, we don't have all day."
I climbed into the seat beside her and pulled it on. It was new and tasteful and definitely not mine. "Where is it we're going, again?"
She pulled out her tablet and started typing. "To our wedding."
"What?"
"To our wedding."
"WHAT?!"
She didn't so much as spare me a glance. "That way, you don't have to testify against me in court."
The suit jacket suddenly felt oversized. "Did you think of asking me first? Preferably before we got to the alter?"
She stopped typing as the road grew bumpy. "Well, do you have any objections?"
"Yes ..." I grumbled and fidgeted with my collar. "I'll do it. This is the worst proposal ever, though."
We arrived at the Montréal Notre Dame Basilica. I think Celine Dion was married here.
"You went all out, huh?" I whispered as we walked down the aisle (together, to save time). There were about five people in the audience, and all of them were likely to humiliate me.
"It was the nearest location." Stratt was wearing a white turtleneck and black pants, which seemed fairly standard. I had a sneaking suspicion that this wedding had cost her not a cent.
"Yay, Grace and Stratt!" called a distinctly Russian voice. I craned my neck around to glare at an applauding Ilioukhina.
The ceremony, like all things Stratt, was brutally efficient.
"Do you, Ryland Aaron Grace, take —"
"Wait," I blurted. Hey, a guy's gotta have second thoughts about his last-minute marriage to a world dictator. "What if you actually want to get married? Like, to someone else?"
Stratt motioned for the officiant to continue. "I'm aromantic asexual."
"You're — woah." I blinked. "That's a thing you can be? Ohh..."
"He does," she told the officiant before turning back to me. "You actually have the better deal because Americans get more marriage tax benefits."
"Stratt!" Ilioukhina's voice again. So far, she had cheered six times, booed five, and made obnoxious crying noises once. At least Dubois and Shapiro seemed amused. "No talking about taxes at the wedding!"
The officiant looked unbelievably bored. "And do you, Eva —"
"I do."
Suddenly, I'm worried that it won't count. "Hey, let him say the whole thing."
"There's no need for that."
"Just let him —"
"Do you, Eva Grace Stratt, take Ryland Aaron Grace to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I could have sworn she blushed as she checked her watch. "Yes. I do."
"You may now kiss the bride."
"Kiiissssss!" That time, it was Dimitri.
Huh. Was I supposed to? Very awkwardly, I leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she recoiled.
"I now pronounce you man and —"
"Wife," Stratt finished.
"Aww," Ilioukhina and Shapiro chorused.
Stratt checked her watch for the third time this wedding. "That's taken care of. Grace, you have some downtime for the next three hours and then we have a meeting with the entire ESA. Don't do anything stupid."
"I love you too!" I shouted after her as she walked away, carrying both our rings with her.
"But I must have gotten the ring somehow," I explained to Rocky in bewilderment. I held up my hand to show him — as much as you could "show" an Eridian anything.
"Grace remember about wedding when see ring, question?" he asked. He'd been tilted forward for the whole story, his sign of strong engagement.
I scratched the back of my head. "No, it was ... I'm wearing the same shirt. The periodic table one."
"Grace is bad husband," he told me.
I lifted my hands. "Hey, it was for taxes!"
"Bad husband!" He added a teasing trill to the end of his notes. "Bad!"
I chuckled. "Okay, I guess we were both pretty bad for each other."
Rocky settled back, satisfied. "Yes. Stratt bad wife. Divorce. Divorce from space."
"Tell you what," I said. "I'll put it in the Beetles."