Chapter 19
Gavin
JUST FOR PRACTICE
The GPS tells me it’s forty minutes to Dabney Point, a secluded island on Lake Washington.
Traffic thickens as we cross the bridge, and through the shifting mist, the skyline comes into view, then disappears behind the trees again.
Scottie keeps staring out the window, her reflection ghosting across the glass—quiet in a way that’s unusual for her.
I clear my throat. “You okay?”
She turns toward me, eyes flicking to meet mine. “Yeah. Just trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’re really doing this.”
I’ve been trying to do the same since the moment I suggested it.
“Almost there,” I tell her, unsure if that makes it worse or better. “I booked us a place to get ready before the courthouse.”
Her brow lifts. “Like a hotel? You went all out.”
“It’s nothing fancy,” I say, though it’s far from average. “I figured we’d both need somewhere to freshen up.”
Her mouth curves. “I assumed we’d be getting ready in a public restroom. So far, you’ve thought of everything.”
Not everything, I think. Definitely not how to stop wanting her. In fact, it’s only gotten worse.
Scottie is silent for the remainder of the drive, and I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking.
Is she having second thoughts? Is she regretting this entire arrangement?
Asking her to marry me was the most impulsive thing I’ve done in years.
Afterward, I kept waiting for the regret to sink in, but it never did.
It’s an easy thing for me to do—to make sure she never goes without the medications she needs.
I just hope when this is all over, she won’t look back and wish she’d never said yes. Because I already know what’s coming for me. When this ends—when she returns to her life and I to mine—I’ll be the one left changed. And I’m not sure I’ll ever find my way back to who I was before.
The hotel sits on a waterfront street overlooking the lake, the city skyline rising faintly in the distance. Everything about Dabney Point screams affluent—mansions, manicured lawns, stone gates, cars that cost more than most houses. I chose it for one specific reason: privacy.
We pull into the lot, and I park under a tree with leaves dripping from last night’s rain. Scottie glances at the building, then back at me. “Looks pretty fancy to me.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “I mean, it is our wedding day. Figured I’d spring for something better than a questionable motel.”
We check in, the front desk agent barely looking up from his screen as I sign the papers. Our room is on the fourth floor, overlooking the lake. Scottie walks straight to the window when we enter, pushing aside the sheer curtains.
“Wow,” she says quietly. “Maybe the next lake house you buy should be here.” She waggles her brows, and some of the tension in me eases. I love that, despite how uncomfortable this situation could be, she manages to lighten the mood.
Joining her, I look out at the view. The water outside glitters like glass, broken only by the occasional ripple from a passing boat—the kind of view you could sit and stare at for hours.
Scottie turns around, hands on her hips. “So, what’s the plan? Do we get dressed, take some deep breaths, and then go do this wedding thing?”
I huff out a laugh. “Something like that.”
Her smile softens. “Sorry, I’m nervous, and when I’m nervous, I babble.
Please tell me you’re nervous too.” She gnaws on her bottom lip, momentarily distracting me.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was doing it on purpose—biting down on that plump lip, fixing her doe eyes on me.
It’s no wonder I practically begged to marry her.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I’m nervous.” Maybe not for the same reasons.
She releases a sigh that does dangerous things to the region below my belt.
“That makes me feel slightly better.” Wandering to the end of the bed, she claims a seat, sitting stiffly like she’s bracing for something. “I was hoping we could talk,” she starts, her tone careful, “before we actually go do this.”
I nod as nerves swirl in my stomach. “Yeah, of course. We can talk about anything.”
Her hands twist in her lap as she stares down at them, avoiding my gaze. “I know we’re doing this so I can have insurance, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. If you want me to sign a prenup, I’m more than willing to do that.”
The last thing I’m worried about is money. A prenup never once crossed my mind. “We don’t need a prenup,” I say firmly. “When this is over, if you want half, you can have it. Hell, you can have more than half.”
She scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m not taking a dime from you, and the fact that you think I would has me worried you think that little of me.”
The hurt in her eyes as they flash to mine makes my chest tighten. I never want to be the reason for that look. “It’s the opposite, Scottie. I think very highly of you. And I also trust you. But just know—once we’re married, my money is your money, and you can spend it as you see fit.”
Her mouth parts, lashes fluttering. “I don’t even know what to say to that, other than you’re out of your mind saying something like that. What if I were a bad person and went and bought a brand-new car?”
“Do you need a car?”
She laughs, humorless and dry. “No! That’s not—I was only trying to point out how ridiculous you sound. Your money is yours, and my money is mine. I don’t need you to take care of me.”
It’s funny she says that, because it seems to be all I want to do.
“Whatever you say,” I tell her so we can move on from this topic. Either way, come Monday morning, I’m adding her to all my accounts and supplying her with the associated debit and credit cards. I’m not going to allow my wife to go without, no matter how real or fake the marriage really is.
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me but drops the subject anyway. “And we should probably set up some rules—lay out what our boundaries are.”
“Boundaries?” I’m not sure what she means.
Her face flushes, and she turns her head, biting her lip. “Like, we should probably be careful about being too...physical.”
Now I get it.
“Physical?” I ask, because for once she’s squirming, and it’s so fucking cute.
She rolls her eyes while bouncing her knees.
“Um, you know, like touching and stuff when we’re alone.
If we’re in front of people, like Carl and Maggie, then obviously we need to act like any other married couple would.
But when it’s just us, I think we need to strictly turn that part off.
Things could get complicated if we get too comfortable with each other. ”
I understand the need for the boundary, and I agree with it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different.
“You’re right. We shouldn’t cross any lines behind closed doors.”
“And if you have needs and want to satisfy those needs, you can do that. We’re not a real couple; I don’t expect you to stay celibate for my sake.”
I bark out a laugh. “Do you think I’m some secret manwhore? I don’t have time for stuff like that. I haven’t had sex in over two years—I think I’ll live.”
“Over two years!? But you’re so—you’re like—”
I smirk, trying to conceal it with my hand. “I’m what?”
She covers her face and groans. “Don’t make me say it,” she says, voice muffled.
I cross my arms, a surge of confidence hitting me. “What am I, Scottie?”
She waves her hand, gesturing toward me. “You’re...you know, attractive.”
My smirk blooms into a full-fledged smile. “Anything else I should know?”
Her head snaps up. “Oh, stop. You know you’re attractive.”
I laugh, a little in disbelief to hear her admit something like that. Not that it means she has feelings for me, but it feels good that she at least finds me attractive.
“Anyway,” she begins, clearly uncomfortable, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m on a hiatus from men—it’ll just be me and my trusty vibrator.”
As soon as the words leave her, she slaps a hand over her mouth like she hadn’t meant to say them. Her fair skin reddens all over.
“Pretend you didn’t hear that last part.”
I wish I could, but unfortunately, the image has lodged itself in my brain permanently.
Now I’m wondering what color it is—and how she likes it.
Does she like it fast, driving her higher and higher, or slow and drawn out?
I’m imagining what she looks like taking it—back arching, toes curling, head thrown back in total ecstasy, her skin flushed, hair wild and tangled as it splays across a pillow, eyes heavy-lidded and satiated.
My cock presses against my zipper, growing thicker and harder the further I fall down this fantasy.
I step back and pull my hair tie loose, letting my hair fall to my shoulders—an attempt at collecting myself. My glasses have fogged a little, so I slip them off and wipe them clean, more for the distraction than the clarity. I need to focus, not daydream about a woman I can’t have.
With her skin still flushed, she stands, and a nervous laugh floats out of her. “And that’s my cue to stop talking.”
She disappears into the bathroom with her garment bag, leaving me with nothing but my inappropriate thoughts.
I hang up my suit and stare at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser—at the tie I haven’t put on yet, the faint lines at the corners of my eyes, the look of a man who is in way over his head.
After I’m dressed and finishing up the knot in my tie, the bathroom door swings open, revealing Scottie at the threshold.
The moment my eyes land on her, I forget how to breathe.
Scottie steps out in the white satin dress she’d sent me a picture of. She looked beautiful in it then, but in person, it’s something else entirely. The photo didn’t do her justice.
It hits mid-thigh—sleeveless, high neckline—simple but perfect. Her hair is in soft waves, and there’s a pink glow on her cheekbones that catches the light.
“Can you zip me?” she asks, holding the back of the dress together.
“Yeah,” I manage.