Chapter 20
Scottie
WILTED FLOWERS
Gavin ruined me.
He kissed me like no other man has, and I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.
The drive from the hotel to the courthouse goes by in a flash. Maybe it’s because the distance is short, or maybe I’m still dizzy from Gavin’s kiss. I fix my lipstick in the visor mirror, slide my veil into place, and pretend I’m not seconds away from falling apart.
Either way, I’m far from composed, and now is not the time or place for my heart or hormones to get the best of me.
The courthouse sits at the edge of the island, tucked between tall hedges and old brick buildings. It looks less like a government office and more like a New England manor—arched windows, ivy climbing the walls, and a flag stirring in the misty breeze.
We walk in together. The clerk at the front desk barely acknowledges us when Gavin hands her the paperwork. She glances over the marriage license and stamps a few pages, then points us toward a side room where a judge is waiting.
Gavin’s hand brushes mine as we enter—a light touch that steadies me more than I’d like to admit. I grab it, lacing our fingers together. I tell myself it’s for show, but it’s a useless lie.
The room is small—four cream-colored walls and a vase of wilted flowers on a filing cabinet. It’s both too ordinary and too momentous for the life-altering decisions that have taken place here.
The judge—a woman in her sixties with kind eyes and a silver chignon—looks up from her desk and smiles. “You must be my next couple.”
“That’s us,” Gavin says.
“License looks good.” She flips through the pages. “So, you’ve already fulfilled the waiting period. We’ll just do a short civil ceremony. No witnesses needed. Sound good?”
I nod so my voice won’t betray how fast my heart is racing.
The judge stands, adjusting the front of her robe. “All right, let’s begin.”
Gavin squeezes my hand—a small reassurance—as we step closer.
When I look up, his hazel eyes find mine, and something in me unclenches.
I don’t know why I’ve been so nervous. There’s nothing here to fear.
This is Gavin—the boy who grew into the kind of man people count on.
The one who shows up, whose advice is wise beyond his years.
Who took responsibility for Lily when most would’ve run.
He’s infuriatingly good in a way that’s almost old-fashioned—honest, capable, thoughtful without making a show of it. I think that’s what disarms me most. I’m not used to feeling safe with someone, but with Gavin, safe is all I’ve ever been.
She begins reading, her tone practiced. “Marriage is a civil contract between two persons, to which the consent of the parties is essential. Today, you enter into that agreement willingly and with understanding.”
Gavin goes still beside me. This is it—the point of no return. My breath sticks in my chest, waiting for him to pull away, to decide this is too much. That I’m too much. But he doesn’t move. And neither do I.
The judge looks between us before continuing. “Please face each other,” she says.
We turn. For a moment, the world narrows to this—the two of us standing in a quiet courtroom that suddenly feels too intimate. My pulse stutters, caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat.
Gavin’s hands hold both of mine, and my fingers tremble as they fit against his, the edges of his calluses brushing my skin. The smallest movement—his thumb tracing over my knuckle—is the last bit of reassurance I need to calm my rapid pulse.
The judge nods to him. “Repeat after me.”
“I, Gavin Ledger, take you, Scotland James, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
He says it evenly, his deep voice vibrating between us. I feel it more than I hear it.
The way he’s looking at me has my stomach dipping. I inhale, the air catching halfway in my chest as his scent wraps around me—both calming and drugging at once. One of my heels wobbles, like the floor is uneven beneath me, but really it’s me, struggling to stand straight.
Then it’s my turn. My voice barely makes it out. “I, Scotland James, take you, Gavin Ledger, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
The words leave my mouth softer than I intend. He squeezes my hands once again, and the gesture ripples through me. My heart trips over itself, chasing the realization that we’re really doing this.
The judge’s expression softens, and I can’t tell who’s putting on the better show—her, for looking at us with genuine admiration, or us, for selling the illusion a little too well.
“Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish each other, to share in life’s joys and hardships, from this day forward?”
Gavin’s gaze locks with mine, and his jaw shifts, the muscle there tightening before he answers.
“I do.”
Two simple words, but they land deep within me, threading through my chest and pulling tight. There’s no hesitation in his voice, none of the nervous laughter you might expect given the circumstances.
I swallow, trying to find my own voice, but it gets trapped in my throat. My hands are still in his, and I feel every tiny tremor in my fingers pressing between us.
“I do.”
It comes out quieter than his, almost a whisper. But once it’s out, I can’t take it back. I look at him, sinking into the safety of his eyes, and for one fleeting second, none of this feels like a lie.
The judge clears her throat. “Do we have rings?”
I start to shake my head, but Gavin nods. “Actually, we do.”
My attention snaps toward him. We do? I know we briefly discussed rings, but in the rush to get this taken care of, I completely forgot about them.
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.
My mouth parts in shock as he opens it to reveal an antique-style ring—art deco, with a deep blue stone that shines even in the dull courthouse light.
The band is gold, delicate, with tiny engravings along the sides. It’s understated but stunning.
“Gavin…” Words fail me. I didn’t even know what my dream ring was—what it looked like—until I saw the one he chose.
He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “You deserve something beautiful.”
Heat stings behind my eyes. He went out of his way to get that ring. It’s not generic—some popular style found in every jewelry store. In fact, I’ve never seen one like it before.
The judge motions with her hands. “Go ahead.”
Gavin takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, the cool metal warming instantly against my skin.
My voice shakes as I momentarily break character. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
He grins faintly. “I wanted to surprise you.”
The judge turns to me. “Scotland, do you have one for him?”
I go still, startled, but Gavin is already a step ahead—pulling a simple band from the same box. Brushed silver, clean lines. He’s thought of everything.
I take it from him, trying to ignore how weighted and significant it feels to slide a ring onto Gavin’s hand.
The judge gives us both a kind look. “By the authority vested in me by the state of Washington, I pronounce you husband and wife.” Her smile deepens. “You may kiss your bride.”
Gavin’s hand comes up, brushing a loose strand of hair from my cheek before he slips it beneath the edge of my veil, his palm cupping the back of my head.
He leans in, close enough that I can feel the ghost of his breath before his lips touch mine.
The kiss is featherlight—unhurried, reverent.
Unlike the kiss we practiced, this one is gentle, like he’s afraid I might break.
My hands find his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt just above his heart, needing something solid to hold on to.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and neither of us moves, our breaths mingling in a shared exhale. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the wild, uneven beat of my own heart.
Gavin’s thumb draws a slow circle at the nape of my neck before he lets his hand fall away. The absence of his touch leaves a chill in its place.
“Congratulations,” the judge says, signing the last page of our license. “You’re officially married.”