I tried to relax, leaned back into the chair and focused on counting as I pulled air into my lungs. Four in, four out. That’s how I did things.
The room was pale and white, clinical, and I felt like I was in an emergency room, not a bride processing center, but when you were about to commit to life as an alien’s bride, I guess they did things a bit differently.
Her fingers moved over a small tablet too fast for me to track, and frankly, I didn’t care what she was doing, as long as the stupid matching thing worked. Which, I realized, I had no idea if it had.
“Did it work? Do I have a match?” I swear my heart stopped beating as I waited for her answer.
“Oh, yes. Of course you do.”
I shuddered, my sigh loud, even to my own ears, and she lifted a hand to my shoulder in a sympathetic gestu
