After lunch, Mikey announced that he was off to the county courthouse to get the marriage license squared away.
“Wait up a second, I’ll walk up there with you,” Thumper said.
“You can’t really walk it,” Mikey said. “County seat’s up in Banks, about thirty miles up the road.”
“Should we both go with you?” I asked. “Won’t there be stuff to sign?”
“Nah, we can handle all that in Bob-Gunnar’s office because he’s a county notary,” Mikey explained. “I just need to get the actual license. We usually have a couple in the office, but I looked online and there’s a special one for same-s*x couples. But you could still come with me, if you wanted to,” he said, practically batting his eyelashes at Thumper.
I was on the verge of jumping in with a “Sure, I’d love to!” just to annoy, but I checked my
