5. Shay
Chapter 5
Shay
The satin hugs my frame, cool and smooth, like a whisper against my skin. I twist a little, the fabric playing catch-up with my movements. It’s a simple dress, but it speaks to me in ways I can’t explain. I bought it from the vintage clothing shop in town, and it reminds me of old Hollywood and timeless elegance. I never thought I’d wear a wedding gown, not after swearing off the idea of marriage altogether. But here I am, about to marry a man I’ve known for ten days for reasons that have nothing to do with love.
The mirror reflects a version of me I don’t entirely recognize—a woman standing at the edge of something unknown. My fingers brush the fabric at my sides, trailing along the smooth satin. The dress clings to me in all the right places, elegant but understated, nothing too flashy. It’s not the fairytale gown I dreamed of as a little girl, but it’s fitting. Practical, just like this arrangement.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I turn, expecting one of Henry’s brothers with some last-minute quip to lighten the mood, but it’s Ben standing in the doorway, his large frame filling the space.
“You look beautiful, Shay,” he says, his voice gruff but warm. He steps inside, closing the door behind him and glancing around the room as if searching for the right words.
“Thank you, Ben.” My voice sounds small, almost shy. “It’s… not what I pictured for myself, but it feels right.”
He nods, his weathered face softening with a small smile. “It’s funny how life works out sometimes, isn’t it? Never the way you expect, but somehow, it ends up exactly as it should.”
He crosses the room, easing into the chair by the window. I turn to face him, curious. His hands fold over a stomach that’s seen many a home-cooked meal as he looks at me, a softness in his gaze that’s almost fatherly.
Ben has been a quiet, steady presence since I arrived—always kind, never pushy. He’s made me feel at home here with his easy laugh and stories about the ranch. But something is different about him now, a weight in the air that makes me pause.
“You okay?” I ask gently, perching on the edge of the vanity stool.
Ben chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should be asking you that. Big day and all. But yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about things. About my Ruth.”
The mention of his late wife sends a pang through my chest. I know she passed not long ago, and her absence lingers in this house, woven into the fabric of every room.
“You miss her,” I say quietly. It’s not a question.
“Every damn day,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “She was the glue, you know? Held this whole family together. Henry gets his stubborn streak from her. God, she was stubborn, but she loved with her whole heart. Didn’t matter how hard things got, she was always there, keeping us steady.”
“She sounds amazing.”
“She was.” His gaze drifts to the window, where the winter sun streams through the glass. “I met her at a county fair, of all places. She was running the pie contest, and I made the mistake of telling her I’d never had a cherry pie as good as my mother’s. She took that as a challenge. Made me sit down right there and try hers.” He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room. “Damn near married her on the spot.”
I can’t help but smile. “And was it better than your mom’s?”
“Better?” He looks at me, his eyes twinkling. “It was life-changing. Told her so, too. She called me a liar, but I think she knew.”
I laugh softly, imagining the scene. “Sounds like she gave you a run for your money.”
“Oh, she did. Every day of our lives. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” His voice softens, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Henry—he’s got her spirit, you know? Tough on the outside, but when he loves, it’s deep and true. Just like her.”
I swallow hard, his words settling in my chest like a warm weight. “He’s lucky to have had both of you.”
Ben shakes his head. “No, we’re the lucky ones. And now he’s lucky to have you. I can see it, Shay. The way you’ve handled yourself these past days, stepping into this crazy life of ours without flinching. You’ve got a strength about you, and I think Henry sees it, too. Hell, I think it scares him a little.”
I laugh, surprised by the honesty in his words. “Scares him, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Ben says, his smile widening. “But that’s a good thing. Keeps him on his toes. And that boy needs someone to do that.”
I glance down at my hands, tracing the satin fabric again. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this. For him. For any of it.”
Ben leans forward, his hand covering mine. It’s a simple gesture, but it steadies me in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“No one’s ever ready,” he says gently. “Not really. But you’ve got what it takes, Shay. You’re already part of this family, whether you realize it or not. And Ruth? She’d have loved you. I know it.”
His words sink deep, settling into the cracks of my uncertainty and filling them with something I can only describe as hope.
“Thank you, Ben,” I whisper, blinking back the sudden sting of tears.
He pats my hand before standing, his large frame towering over me. “Now, let’s get you married before Henry decides to brood himself into oblivion.”
I laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been all morning. “You think he’s nervous?”
Ben grins, heading for the door. “Nervous? That boy’s a wreck. But don’t tell him I told you. He’s got a reputation to uphold.”
With that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the quiet room. But somehow, it doesn’t feel so quiet anymore. I take a deep breath, smoothing the satin of my dress one last time. Whatever comes next, I know I’m not facing it alone.
“Ready?” Angus’s voice is a quiet murmur behind me.
I turn, catching the faint smirk on his face and the knowing look in Tom’s eyes.
They’re both in their best jeans and button-downs, which, in this town, qualifies as formal attire.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, my voice betraying none of the jitters dancing a jig in my belly.
In truth, my stomach is a knot of nerves, twisting tighter with each passing second. But I lift my chin, refusing to let it show. I chose this, and I’ll see it through.
Tom and Angus lead me downstairs toward an unknown future. Still, despite my nerves, it feels right.
The living room is barely recognizable when I step into it. Tom and Angus have gone above and beyond, transforming the rustic space. The strings of Christmas lights I hung earlier in the week now drape elegantly along the walls, casting a soft, warm glow over everything. I remember how Henry frowned when I put up the Christmas tree, but it all adds a touch of magic to the place. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.
Sprigs of evergreen and red berries are tucked into the edges of picture frames and along the mantle, giving the room a festive charm. A makeshift aisle runs down the middle of the space, marked by mason jars filled with fairy lights and tied with simple white ribbons.
In the corner, a small table holds a tiered tray of cookies alongside a pitcher of cider that steams faintly in the chill of the room. Someone—probably Tom—has added a rustic touch with a small chalkboard sign propped on the table, the words “Today is the day!” written in a looping script.
I take it all in, my heart catching at the sight. It’s not a grand cathedral or a fairy-tale ballroom, but it’s perfect in its own way. It’s real, like everything about this place. It feels like home.
“Tom and Angus,” I say, my voice softer than I intended, “you did all this?”
Tom grins, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking every bit the mischievous troublemaker. “We figured you deserved something special. Weddings aren’t just paperwork, you know.”
“Plus,” Angus adds, adjusting the crooked tie he’s somehow managed to wrestle himself into, “we couldn’t let Henry marry you in a plain old living room. Not when we’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
The knot in my stomach loosens a little at their words, at the warmth and care woven into the details around me. Despite the nerves, a small smile pulls at my lips. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Tom says, his grin widening. “Wait until you see what we did with the cake. We made it ourselves.”
“Should I be worried?” I tease, earning a laugh from both of them.
“You should always be worried if those two get anywhere near an oven.”
I turn at the deep voice, and there he is.
Henry Sutton stands at the end of the “aisle,” his broad frame dominating the space like he was born to fill it. His silver-gray eyes find mine instantly, sweeping over me with an intensity that makes my pulse stutter.
“Shay,” he says, his voice rough and low, as if the single word carries more weight than it should.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name like it truly matters. Like I matter.
I step toward him, my nerves and doubts momentarily forgotten. His eyes soften for a heartbeat before he composes himself, his features hardening into something unreadable. Still, the flicker of vulnerability lingers in the air between us.
“Hi,” I manage, the word inadequate but all I can muster.
He looks at me for a long, charged moment, his gaze steady and unflinching. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he grumbles, a faint trace of something softer in his tone. Something that makes me believe we might make it after all.
The room quiets, the air charged with anticipation, and I step forward, ready to meet whatever comes next.
The judge clears his throat, an older man with spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. “Take his hands,” he instructs.
My fingers find Henry’s, surprising both of us with their steadiness. His hands are rough, calloused, and warm. A shiver runs up my spine, not from cold, but from anticipation.
“Dearly beloved,” the judge begins in a voice that sounds like he’s used to giving orders, not uniting souls.
The living room suddenly seems too small for the enormity of what’s happening. The judge’s voice drones on, something about lifelong commitments and lawful wedded bliss, but his words are background noise to the electric current crackling between Henry and me.
“Shay?” Henry’s voice cuts through my daze, and I realize it’s my turn to say the vows.
“Right, yes. I do.” I stammer, hoping that covers all the promises I’m supposed to make.
Henry’s hands clasp mine steadily, but I swear I see a tremor in those broad shoulders. Maybe he’s not as unflappable as he always seems?
I take in every detail of him. The way his dark hair contrasts starkly with his pale shirt, the firm set of his jaw, and the light gray eyes that hold a hint of turbulent skies with a chance of tenderness. Gratitude lurks in those depths, a silent thank-you for stepping into this crazy arrangement. And maybe something more. Maybe something that looks like hope and reflects my hidden desires.
“Then by the power vested in me…” The judge is wrapping up, and suddenly, it’s official.
Henry leans forward, and I brace myself for the formality of a kiss to seal our business deal. But when his lips touch mine, it’s like a jolt of lightning to my heart—a heart that’s supposed to be practical and guarded. It’s a soft press, a whisper of a kiss, but it causes a fluttering in my chest that’s suspiciously like butterflies staging a coup.
As he pulls back, the warmth from his lips lingers, spreading heat up my neck. Our gazes lock, and at that moment, without a single word spoken, I know he felt it too. That inexplicable pull, the strange sensation of falling into something neither of us planned.
“Congratulations,” says the judge with a smile, closing his book with finality.
I’m aware of Tom and Angus exchanging glances behind us, probably making silent bets on how long before I bolt or Henry broods himself into a tornado.
“Thank you,” I muster, trying to regain my composure. “This means a lot to us.”
“Happy to help,” he responds, giving us a nod before gathering his things.
My mind is a whirlwind of what-ifs and maybes. Married. To Henry Sutton. A man who can charm a smile out of me even when clouds hang over his head. A man whose past is as tangled as mine.
“Let’s have lunch,” Henry says, his voice steady but eyes still holding a trace of that earlier electricity.
“Sounds perfect,” I agree, relief and an odd sense of contentment settling in.
As we move toward the promise of food and a semblance of normalcy, I can’t help thinking that, for the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I need to be.
I pivot on my heel, breaking the electric connection before I drown in it. My back to Henry and the judge, I inhale, trying to find the floor again under my feet. The room’s warmth wraps me up even before Ben’s arms do, pulling me into a fatherly embrace that smells faintly of tobacco and aftershave.
“Shay, darling, welcome to the family,” he murmurs.
I blink hard against the sudden moisture in my eyes. “Thank you, Ben,” I reply, voice thick with emotions I didn’t expect to feel today or ever.
Tom, all wide grin and wild black hair, thumps me on the back next. “You’re stuck with us now,” he teases, his laughter like an infectious melody.
“Seems I am.” I laugh, the sound surprisingly genuine even to my own ears. It’s strange, this warmth blooming in my chest, like I’ve been invited into something bigger than myself. Like I’m not alone anymore.
Angus, more reserved but no less sincere, offers a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes as he hugs me. “Glad to have you, Shay.”
“Thanks, Angus.” I nod, touched by their immediate acceptance. These men, strangers until ten days ago, have opened their lives to me in a way that’s surreal. It’s comforting and unnerving.
Henry clears his throat, stepping beside me with a glance at the judge. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends another shiver through me.
“Appreciate the offer,” the judge says, packing away the papers we both signed without a second thought, “but duty calls. Another couple awaits their Christmas miracle. Christmas brides,” he mutters under his breath as he heads toward the door, shaking his head with a wry chuckle.
“Christmas miracle indeed,” I murmur, the smile on my lips coming easier than it has in years. This whole situation is absurd, yet somehow, it feels right. Or maybe I’m too caught up in the moment to think straight.
We migrate to the dining room, a space filled with the scent of roasting meat and herbs—a feast I prepared with more care than I’d like to admit. The long wooden table is laden with dishes, the culmination of a morning spent in the kitchen trying to distract myself from the enormity of what today represents.
As we take our seats, I catch Henry’s gaze lingering on me. Something unspoken passes between us, and the rest of the world fades away.
Ben stands, glass raised, the light catching the fine lines of experience etched into his face. “To Shay and Henry,” he says, his voice steady and warm. “May this unexpected journey be one of many blessings. You’re a part of our family now, and I couldn’t be happier for my boy and for us.”
The words hit harder than I expected, and I swallow the lump rising in my throat. A part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a father like Ben—steady, supportive, and kind. But I push the thought away, focusing on the warmth of the moment.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” Tom calls out, and we all echo the sentiment, lifting our glasses.
“New beginnings,” I whisper, allowing the words to settle over me like the dress of delicate satin I chose for today. For once, I don’t feel like I’m running from something. I’m running toward it.
My fingertips brush the fabric of my gown, a reminder of the choice I’ve made—not just for a dress but for a life. I’ve chosen a partnership with a man who might be capable of thawing the frost I’ve kept around my heart. A partnership that’s already changing me, making me believe that home isn’t simply a place but where you make it, with people holding you close without asking why.
The clinking of glasses brings me back, and I meet Henry’s gaze across the table. A promise lingers in those gray eyes, a silent vow that speaks louder than the ones we exchanged earlier. I take a deep breath and return his look, allowing hope to edge out the fear.
“Thank you, Ben,” I say, my voice stronger now. “For everything.”
“Ah, don’t thank me.” Ben waves off my gratitude with a smile. “Thank fate, luck, or whatever brought you two together.”
“Desperation,” Tom quips, and we all burst into laughter, the tension dissolving like sugar in hot tea.
“Whatever it is,” I say, finding my place among these people who already feel like family, “I’m grateful for it.”
“Cheers to that,” Henry adds, his smile reaching his eyes.
“Cheers,” we all repeat, and I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Lunch passes in a haze of conversation and laughter, filling the room with warmth. Henry is quieter than the rest, but I catch his gaze on me more than once. Each time, it sends a thrill through me, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation.
As the meal winds down and the dishes are cleared, I step out onto the porch for a moment of quiet. The air is crisp and cold, biting at my cheeks as I take in the view of the snow-dusted landscape stretching out before me. The ranch is a peaceful place where life is simpler and the frenzy of the world fades into the background.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Henry’s voice startles me.
I turn to find him standing a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets.
“It is,” I reply, my breath forming small clouds in the icy air. “Peaceful.”
He nods, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “This place has been in my family for generations. It’s not just a ranch—it’s a legacy. Something worth fighting for.”
His words are heavy with meaning, and a pang of guilt hits me for underestimating how much this place means to him. This marriage might have started as a practical arrangement, but for Henry, it’s tied to something far deeper.
“I can see that,” I say softly. “It’s a good place. A place that feels like home.”
He looks at me then, his gray eyes searching mine. “Does it? Feel like home?”
I pause, the question hanging between us. “It’s starting to,” I admit, and the honesty in my voice surprises even me.
We stand in silence for a moment, the cold air swirling around us.
Henry clears his throat, breaking the spell. “You should head inside,” he says gruffly. “It’s freezing out here.”
I nod, stepping toward the door. But before I go inside, I turn back to him. “Henry?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He doesn’t reply, but the look in his eyes says more than words ever could.
As I step back into the warmth of the house, I realize something has shifted between us. It’s subtle, like the soft glow of dawn chasing away the night. And though I don’t know what the future holds, I dare to hope that maybe this marriage of convenience could turn into something more.