The Backpack Bride (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker #1)

Chapter Ten

Roxy

I t’s my fake wedding day.

I mean...the day itself isn’t fake. It’s completely real. And the marriage certificate I’ll be signing...also real. But the reason for this wedding? As fake as the leather on these black combat boots I’m wearing.

Chantelle sent me a string of texts that voiced her disapproval in my choice of footwear after I sent her a selfie, but it’s been raining since last night and I’m not about to slip in heels. She’ll probably have more to say once she sees my outfit at the courthouse, but it is what it is. I’m just glad she has a career that allows her to make her own schedule so she could be with us today. Knowing I’ll have her there in case things get awkward between Christian and me calms some of my nervousness.

I dropped Axel off at school this morning, just like any other day, since we really can’t afford for him to miss any more school, and the courthouse only had middle-of-the-day openings. He wished me luck, though, before I hurried home to get ready. Tonight, he’ll be meeting Christian for the first time. That alone fills me with anxiety.

I give myself one last glance in the mirror, hoping I’ve done enough to meet Chris’s approval. My long hair holds a slight curl, but it’ll probably end up frizzing out the second I step outside. At least my makeup looks good. Part of me still feels weird about putting so much effort into today, but Chantelle has assured me many times over that it’s normal , expected. Even if the circumstances surrounding this marriage are anything but.

Once I grab my veil and tuck it securely in place, I stand back and do a half twirl. “Guess this is it.”

An unexpected pang of loss spreads through me. Eddy won’t be here to see me get married. Not that I’d really want him to be. I doubt there’s a brother alive who wants his sister to marry someone for practical reasons. I did, however, always hope he’d walk me down the aisle someday. After Mom died and Dad wrecked our family, Eddy was my only constant. Eddy and then Axel.

Tears threaten to let loose like they always do when I think of how quickly our lives changed.

I swallow them down and grab my black leather jacket and purse to head out the door. The drive to the courthouse is just long enough to give me time to question every life choice that’s led me to this moment. Then I begin to wonder what it’s going to be like to spend the rest of the day with Christian.

It was his idea for us to take the day off work, thinking that it’ll add to our story. We both need to sync up our alibis and present a united front. Especially tonight at the reception. Did I mention it’s also moving day?

My belly tumbles in a fit of nervousness as I put the car in park in front of the courthouse. Christian promised over the phone that everything would be taken care of at my apartment, that I didn’t even need to worry about boxing things up. He claims he knows some movers that expertly organize, pack, and haul everything in a day. The concept blows my mind, considering Axel and I spent a week and a half doing it all, only to have a disorganized mess at the end of it.

But once this day is over, I’ll officially be moved into my billionaire husband’s place. And after that? God only knows. I whisper a prayer as I trudge up the courthouse steps, running a trembling hand along the silk at my midsection.

I’ll admit that with Christian, trust comes easy. Maybe it shouldn’t since I don’t know him that well, but every conversation we have, whether in person or through texting, confirms how genuine he is. And now, knowing Chantelle, I’m convinced that Axel and I have nothing to worry about sharing an apartment with him.

No, my fear stems from letting another person into my life, my self-constructed bubble. Christian may not have any romantic interest in me beyond the fake relationship we’re engaging in, but living together exposes things. Like bad habits. Weaknesses. Secrets. And once those things are revealed, the bubble of safety pops. Will all the things I’ve tried to hide be deal-breakers for Christian once he finds them out?

I reach the door to the courthouse and pull it open, willing the fear to subside. If I let myself wonder too much about the future, I’ll never go through with our plan. And I can’t let Christian down like that. I can’t let Axel down like that.

Besides, I signed a contract. One that states I’ll help Christian as long as he’s willing to help me.

Scanning the lobby of the courthouse, I nearly cry with relief when I see Chantelle standing in a corner wearing a bright yellow dress with her dark hair pulled up into a French twist.

“There’s that beautiful, blushing bride,” she squeals when she spots me, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

“Where’s Christian?” When I don’t immediately spot him, I worry he changed his mind.

"He’s on his way,” Chantelle assures me. “He just texted a minute ago and said he needed to make a quick stop.”

I fiddle with the gold chain around my neck. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to decorate for the party all by yourself?”

“Oh, please.” She waves a hand at me. “I love decorating. Besides, I’ll have plenty of help. My friend Ronnie said she’d help, plus Jude will be there.”

“If you’re sure.” I bite my lip, willing all these nerves to dissipate.

“I promise I am.” Her smile widens as her attention snags on something behind me. “Your groom awaits.”

My stomach plummets as I turn. Christian steps through the doors of the courthouse looking like a model who sprung to life right off the pages of the latest fashion magazine. His fitted gray suit molds to each sculpted muscle as if tailored just for him—no doubt it was. The white shirt and black tie he paired with it make him a monochromatic vision. Then my eyes drop to the gorgeous bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Good morning,” he croons, stopping directly in front of me. “These are for you.”

My fingers shake as I grip the very real stems of blooms so lovely my breath catches. “These are beautiful.” My breathless whisper is embarrassing. Heat climbs up my neck.

“Not half as beautiful as you look in that dress.” Gently gripping my other hand, Christian brings it to his lips for a chaste, but no less affecting, kiss. “It feels necessary to say that I feel like a very lucky man right now.” His easy smile undoes some of my apprehension, but I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this all a part of the show we’re about to put on.

Releasing me, Christian pulls Chantelle into a loose hug, careful not to wrinkle her dress. “Morning. Glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” When she pulls back, she asks, “Where’s Holt?”

Holt?

“He’s on his way,” Christian says. “Got held up in traffic.”

“Who’s Holt?” I ask. Both their heads swivel my direction.

“He’s my best man.” Christian adjusts his necktie. “That friend I told you about who’s been around since grade school? That’s him.”

I smile, finding his tight-knit friendships endearing. I guess since Holt is Christian’s best man, that would make Chantelle my maid of honor. Shame suddenly makes my cheeks heat. Not only do I have to fake a marriage with a man I hardly know, but I’m borrowing his friends because I don’t have any of my own. How much more pathetic can I get?

“Ready to do this?” Christian’s deep voice prods me to blink up at him.

“Yeah.” I force a smile. “If you are.”

His gaze slowly swings to Chantelle. “Mind if I have a moment with Roxy?”

Chantelle winks and saunters away, humming the wedding march. Heat slams into my cheeks again.

“Hey.” Unexpected warmth rushes into my fingers when Christian grips them with his. “You look a little squeamish. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Shaking my head to clear away my self-deprecating thoughts, I mold my lips into what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Really, I’m okay.”

A flash of insecurity I’ve never witnessed on him before passes over Christian’s features. “Roxy, I hope you know that you have the power to stop this marriage right now if you want. We don’t have to do this.”

His concern is sweet but unnecessary. If I want the best shot at being Axel’s permanent guardian, then I need to go through with this.

I tighten my grip on his hands. “It’s not you or even this marriage I’m worried about, I’m just...” I pause, unable to come up with an explanation that won’t make me look sad or desperate. “I feel bad for you in this scenario.” After blurting the truth, I avert my gaze.

"Me?” A surprisingly geeky chortle escapes him, prompting me to raise my eyes to his. “Roxy, I’m not a victim here. If anything, I’m the villain who’s coerced you into helping me.”

I shake my head, feeling the wrongness of his words down deep in my bones. “You’re not the villain. You’re a hero.” I’m tempted to add saint , but I already know he’d deny it.

His thumbs skate over my wrist and send little threads of fire over my skin. “Roxy, I’m no hero.” His jaw pulses as he looks down at me. “I don’t want you going into this with the wrong idea. If we’re going to do this, we need to view each other as partners. Equals.”

At my nod, he continues. “Every day, we’ll work together to reach our goals. Just like if we were a team working on a marketing project.” I can’t help but smile when he likens this marriage to the workplace. Typical CEO. It’s a shame his dad can’t see his true potential. “We’ll listen to each other’s ideas,” he says. “We’ll consider the needs of the other person and talk things through before we make a big decision. The contract is there to protect us, but it’s also there to remind us that this is a partnership.”

His words settle some of my panic. He’s right; this is just like if we decided to work together on a project. This isn’t a one-sided deal where only one of us comes out on top. If we do this thing right, we’ll both be able to get what we want most in the end.

“Now,” he says again, a tenuous smile cracking his confident resolve. “I’m going to ask you again. Are you ready to get married today?”

Just as I open my mouth to say yes, a burly guy wearing full riding gear rushes into the lobby. “Did I miss it?”

Christian smiles wide and steps forward, clapping the guy on the back. “Nah, you’re just in time.” The man heaves a strained breath like he just got done running. “Holt,” Christian says, turning toward me, “meet my bride.”