Chapter 18
eighteen
. . .
SUMMER
I’d spent all day yesterday prepared to take back my agreement to marry Rory, but then he’d shown up with his teammates to the café to eat dinner after practice.
They all looked exhausted from their training session, and were ravenous. As I brought out plate after plate, Logan commented that the café needed an all you can eat option.
Even though he was visibly tired, Rory was the life of the group. Watching him with his teammates, it was easy to see why he’s the team captain. The position is not just based on his age, but the fact that he’s easy to approach and playful, while also a leader respected by everyone.
Rory needs this. He needs the freedom to focus on swimming. And even with my strong stance against marriage, it eased the anxiety knowing ours would have a purpose.
This morning, after another peaceful night with Rory by my side, I woke up, walked the dogs, then grabbed breakfast for me and Cal.
“Hey, Cal.” I drop onto the bench next to him. Edgar nuzzles into his leg, eager to greet the elderly man.
I unwrap the breakfast burrito and hand it to him. Maintaining his grip on the fishing pole, he takes the burrito with his free hand.
“Bless you, Summer.”
I pull another burrito out of my bag and we eat in silence for a minute.
“Fish biting today?”
“Nah, but I like the ritual of it.”
I nod. I get that.
“Plans later?” Cal asks.
“Um, yeah. I’m getting married.”
Cal chokes on a bite of his burrito so I whack him on the back. It would figure that the news that I’m getting married would nearly kill him. Marriage is like a death sentence.
He eyes my unkempt hair and baggy t-shirt with utter confusion. He can’t even see the remnants of eye makeup from last night that’s hidden beneath my sunglasses.
“Like that?” he asks. “I’m not up on all the trends you kids are into but even I know that’s not wedding attire.”
“I don’t subscribe to the patriarchal belief that I need to look my best on this day. The man who wants to marry me should accept me for me, no matter what I look like.”
Or maybe it’s because after years of putting so much effort into everything I did only to be met with indifference, the desire to try where a man is concerned has vanished.
That’s why I’d laid out the rules for me and Rory’s marriage: no feelings, no intimacy, no complications.
It’s what I want, and Rory agreed without hesitation.
It should be a relief. It is a relief.
Yet, there’s a flicker of something I didn’t expect. Something sharp and unwelcome curling in my chest.
At one particularly insightful moment, I’d even labeled it.
Disappointment.
Disappointment that Rory didn’t push back. That despite our constant reassurance that we’re just friends, it was the proof in that moment that he didn’t want me. The same way my ex hadn’t.
It might seem ridiculous for me to compare Rory and my ex, they’re not the same, but it was a reminder that I won’t put myself in that situation again. A situation that made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Constantly bending myself to fit into his version of who I should be to earn affection and prove my worth.
With Rory, I’m getting what I asked for, and I should be glad he didn’t try to negotiate our arrangement. It would only make things messy.
So, I push the niggling feeling away.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” he asks.
“Rory Shields.”
Under the shade of his brimmed hat, Cal’s smile spreads. “I had a feeling.”
“What kind of feeling? Did it involve heart palpitations and shallow breathing?”
Cal ignores my comment. “Seeing you two together made me miss Mildred.”
She passed away five years ago, and she was the light of Cal’s life.
No one’s ever been that important to me. Except Scarlett.
“You told Scarlett yet?” Cal asks, like he can read my mind.
I sigh. “Not really. She’s going to have thoughts.”
She's been my ride-or-die since we were nineteen, and if anyone knows how deep my marriage aversion runs, it’s her.
So, I text her a quick “Getting married today. Don’t freak out.”
Three seconds later, my phone rings.
Of course it does.
I excuse myself from Cal’s peaceful fishing excursion just in time to get an earful from Scarlett.
“Tell me you’re joking,” she says by way of greeting.
“I’m not. It’s a courthouse wedding. No flowers. No fuss. Just paperwork.”
She groans. “Summer…what are you doing?”
“I’m helping a friend. I need health insurance. He needs to get his parents off his back so he can train. It’s not real.”
“You’re legally binding yourself to a man, and it’s not real?”
“It’s Rory,” I say, like that explains everything.
Because it kind of does. He’s becoming the one person I can’t say no to. And Scarlett knows.
The silence that follows is long and heavy.
“You really think you can do this without catching feelings?”
“I already laid out the rules,” I say. “No intimacy. No complications.”
Scarlett doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even scoff. Just lets the quiet sit for a moment too long.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Sum. Just…don’t lie to yourself about how you feel.”
Before I can respond, a shriek cuts through the air.
“Summer!”
It’s Winnie.
“I gotta go,” I say quickly.
Scarlett sighs. “Fine. But I want pictures. Not wedding photos. Proof of life.”
I end the call and rejoin Cal just as Winnie comes racing down the dock toward us, waving her arms wildly.
She’d texted me earlier asking if she could help me get ready for today. I’d agreed only because I don’t know what one should wear to a courthouse wedding for their marriage of convenience and Winnie seemed so excited to help.
But now I’m wondering if I can jump off the side of the dock without her seeing me.
“There you are,” she pants, out of breath from the full-on sprint down the dock.
“She found me,” I whisper to Cal, whose raspy chuckle warms my heart.
“We’ve got to get you ready!” Winnie exclaims.
Cal quirks an eyebrow, giving me a look that means I told you so.
I groan but let Winnie lead me away.
An hour later, with my hair blown out and a soft, natural makeup palette applied, I’m Winnie’s vision of a blushing bride.
After finding me on the dock, Winnie brought me to Whimsy, a boutique clothing store, owned by her friend Cora. While Cora picked out a white lace mini dress with a sweetheart neckline and flared skirt, Winnie converted one of the fitting rooms into a hair and makeup station where she worked her magic on my appearance.
With Whimsy being only a block away from city hall, Winnie and I walk over after my transformation.
The crisp morning has softened into a balmy spring day while a breeze teases at the hem of my dress, making me hyperaware of how I look.
“Rory’s not going to know what hit him,” Winnie says with a wink.
Inside city hall, Winnie leads me down the tiled corridor to where the small courtroom is located.
“I’m going to use the restroom,” I tell Winnie.
“Okay. I’ll see you inside.”
I nod, trying to keep the nerves at bay.
Outside the double wooden doors, several couples linger. By the way they’re dressed, it’s clear they’re getting married today, too.
I watch a woman straighten her fiancé’s tie, then beam up at him with the sweetest smile.
Two men, both dressed in light gray suits, hold each other close, one leans in for a sweet kiss as they pose in the picturesque hallway for a photographer.
These couples aren’t just going through the motions, they’re in love. Every gesture, every glance confirms what I’m pretending. Their marriages will be real. Ours will be…something else.
My pulse kicks up a notch causing my heart to pound in my chest.
I spin around, and crash straight into Rory’s chest.
“Hey, Wildflower.” His warm hands wrap around my upper arms. “You trying to bail on me?” His brows lift in question, but I can see the amusement in his eyes.
It’s what I need right now. To make light of a situation that is starting to feel too heavy.
Rory looks handsome in a deep blue suit. His crisp white dress shirt contrasts with his golden skin and when his lips stretch across his face, I’m the one who is about to melt.
I swallow hard. A flash of annoyance at how damn handsome he looks swirls through my blood. That’s not a normal thought to have on your wedding day. But this isn’t a normal marriage. With every charming smile and sweet gesture from Rory, I’m starting to wonder if I’m misjudging my ability to hold him at a distance.
“No, I’m not running. We made a deal and I’m here to fulfill it.”
With his hands still holding me up, Rory’s eyes scan the length of me.
“Wow, Summer. You’re stunning.”
If I hadn’t felt pretty before, I do now, and that only adds to my confusion.
I hate the effect Rory’s words have on me. The way his eyes lighting in approval makes my stomach flutter with excitement. How it used to be that way with Tripp until I realized he only wanted me by his side to show me off. He didn’t actually care about me.
“Yeah, well, Winnie wouldn’t let me wear a t-shirt and biker shorts.”
Rory chuckles, turning me toward the courtroom door and opening it for me to enter.
“You could’ve shown up in a trash bag, and I still would’ve said ‘I do’ without blinking.”
“You’re only admitting your desperation,” I tease as he takes my hand. He pulls me along toward the front of the room where the judge is seated behind the plain wooden bench talking with another couple.
The air carries a faint scent of old paper and lemon-scented floor cleaner.
Rory’s lips twitch in amusement, before he shakes his head. “Nah, it’s because it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You walk into a room, and I notice. Every damn time.”
At his words, I nearly trip down the court room aisle, but I don’t fall because Rory’s got me.
Of course, he does. Winnie had warned me, hadn’t she? Rory’s that guy. Helpful and sweet. Always doing good deeds. He’d probably marry any random woman that needed insurance. I just happened to be directly in his path.
At the sight of the generic courtroom, my anxiety eases.
There’s no need for flowers or silk bunting. No music or choreographed entrance. No bridesmaids or groomsmen.
The North Carolina state flag in one corner and the American flag in the other, both faded by time, are the only backdrop. At the front of the room, the court stenographer sitting next to the judge, barely glances up as she types. The monotony of it all helps reassure me what kind of arrangement this is; completely transactional.
“The court has reviewed the terms of your agreement. All assets and responsibilities are divided as stated, and there are no further disputes. Mr. and Mrs.—well, not Mrs. anymore, I suppose—your divorce is finalized as of today. Best of luck to you both.”
The couple in front of us are getting a divorce.
Good.
I mean, I’m not happy for their failed marriage, but it’s a good reminder of what will ultimately become of me and Rory after the Olympics.
“Next,” the judge calls out and Rory guides me toward the bench where the placard reads Judge Clayborn .
On the way, my eyes skim over the handful of people sitting in the audience. I recognize Logan, Charlie, and Eli. Then, there’s Winnie, with her hand at her chest, discreetly giving me an enthusiastic wave.
As the judge announces why we are gathered here today, my palms start to sweat.
“Are you exchanging rings?” Judge Clayborn asks.
Rory reaches into his suit jacket pocket.
When he holds up the ring he has pinched between his fingers, my eyes bulge.
The ring in Rory’s hand is gorgeous, but completely unexpected.
“I thought we decided on the ones from the quarter machine in front of Rowley’s Hardware?”
“This is more convincing,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “It’s too much. More than what I got you.” Reaching into the pocket of my dress, I produce the black rubber ring.
He grins at it. “You didn’t follow the rules, either?”
I roll my eyes. “It was like nine dollars.”
“I love it.”
“You don’t even have to wear a ring. A lot of guys don’t. But, if you wanted to, I thought this kind made the most sense with swimming and all your training activities.”
“Hell, yeah.” Rory’s smile is captivating. “I’m going to wear it.”
“Okay. Whatever you want to do.”
I shrug it off, dizzy from the heat.
We turn our attention back to Judge Clayborn.
“Rory, do you take Summer to be your lawfully wedded wife?” he asks.
“I do.” Rory’s voice resonates loud and clear.
“Summer, do you take Rory to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My throat is suddenly tight. My lips part to utter the words, but nothing comes out.
“Summer?” Judge Clayborn prompts.
“I-I do,” I finally manage the words.
“Rory, please place the ring on Summer’s finger and repeat after me.”
Rory nods and reaches for my hand. I want to will it to stop shaking, but my body is off the rails, doing things I’ve not instructed it to do.
Trembling hands.
Racing heart.
Throat tight and impossible to swallow past.
The ring on my finger, though delicate, has an unexpected weight to it.
As Rory recites his vows, it takes everything in my power to stay rooted to the spot. To not fidget under his thoughtful gaze.
It’s just for show, I repeat to myself. But in my head, it’s become more of a chant set to the tune of “Here Comes the Bride.” So much so that I’m afraid I’m going to blurt it out in the middle of the ceremony.
Somehow, in the chaos of all that, I manage to repeat the vows after Judge Clayborn.
“…for better or worse, in sickness and in health…”
We sign the marriage certificate and I breathe out a sigh of relief that this stressful moment is over.
We did it.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Judge Clayborn announces to the handful of people in the tiny courtroom.
“Okay, so we’re good to go?” I ask, glancing around at the smiling faces, my feet ready to rush for the door.
Judge Clayborn smiles from his perch, then nods to Rory. “You may kiss your bride.”
You may kiss your bride.
I’ve been to weddings. I’ve seen them on television. I know the gist of the ceremony, yet I’d completely forgotten about this moment. We hadn’t discussed how we’d handle it. I’m just about to tap my cheek to cue him for a polite, harmless kiss, but the way Rory’s lips slowly tilt into a devilish smile makes it impossible to focus.
His hands lift to frame my face. The firm pressure of his fingertips as they slide against the base of my neck causing heat to coil low in my belly like a struck match.
His eyes search mine, the moment stretching out between us, thick with something unspoken but undeniable.
Then, his mouth claims mine.
It starts out soft. Gentle. Almost reverent. But there’s a tension beneath it, a tether pulled tight. Just when I think he’ll pull back, he doesn’t. He deepens it, mouth firmer, kiss hungrier, like he’s not acting. Like he means it.
His thumb brushes over my cheek, coaxing me open for him—and I do, helplessly, willingly.
My thoughts scatter as my body takes over. My fingers move to grip the lapels of his suit jacket, dragging him closer.
I feel the slide of his mouth, the press of his chest, the possessive tilt of his head. We’re kissing like we’ve been waiting for this for years.
Tasting.
Teasing.
Devouring.
Somewhere in the background, there are cheers, laughter…maybe applause? But it all fades beneath the rush in my ears, the heat of my skin, the low hum building between us.
My body sighs into his. Maybe that was an actual sigh escaping my mouth. Or maybe it came from Rory. I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.
He pulls back slowly, reluctantly, like he doesn’t really want it to end. I’m still holding onto him, unsteady and wrecked from a single kiss.
We should’ve done that before so I knew what I was getting into. So I could mentally prepare myself for the fact that my husband kisses like he has something to prove.
My lashes flutter and my lungs drag in air that doesn’t feel like enough.
I’ve never been kissed like that. Now, I’m questioning if I’ve ever been kissed at all.
Finally, I’m able to open my eyes and focus on Rory. His lips are flushed, his breathing a little uneven, but that familiar golden retriever grin flickers back into place.
While my brain is spinning its wheels trying to figure out what just transpired, Rory isn’t fazed at all. It’s almost like he knew this would happen.
“I object,” I whisper.
Rory just grins knowingly. “We’re already past that part, wife.”