38. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Morgan
I t turns out that the boys actually did have something to do this afternoon, because as soon as we finished the champagne on the helipad, they left us to run errands. I’m not sure where the others are going, but Walker told me he had to pick up a few special guests from the airport. I still have no idea how they pulled this surprise together, but it honestly couldn’t have been more perfect.
“How pissed was your mom,” I ask Cass as I blink in the mirror.
My makeup is full glam and not understated in the least, which is funny because it’s the opposite of what my best friend would have done with this makeup artist. I’ve got fake lashes, shimmery shadow, and so much bronzer covering my face that I look like I just arrived home from a beach vacation.
I love it.
“She’s got a huge case going on right now, so she got over it because now he doesn’t have to take off work.”
I smack my gloss-covered lips, turning my head to check out the intricate low bun that my hair is pulled into. Floral pearl pins accent the design, and the stylist left a few short wisps out to frame my face.I can’t believe this only took her an hour—the thing is a work of art .
“Well, selfishly I’m glad you decided to elope because being a bride is way more fun than I expected.”
We’ve spent the past three hours relaxing in the spacious bridal suite while listening to ’90s country hits and getting pampered. Claire bought us all matching silk robes with feather trim to lounge around in, and if I had known this was what having a wedding could be like, I might have thought about it more seriously.
“Ready to see your dress?” Cassidy’s hazel eyes swirl with delight as they meet mine in the mirror.
I nod with a nervous grin and strip down.
Because Cass is the only one who knows anything about the gown, she shoos Claire and Caroline out of the room so that I can make a grand entrance. The photographer wanted to capture the genuine reactions of my friends, and I’m crossing my fingers that this thing fits; otherwise, the only reaction I’ll be getting is one of horror as I walk down the aisle in the pale pink maxi I had originally planned to wear today.
From what I could determine before the fabric was pulled over my head, the wedding dress is made of a shimmery satin that feels expensive because it’s super heavy. This is definitely not a last-minute dress that they ordered from a discount shop—it’s a high-quality designer gown. I shove my arms through the off-the-shoulder sleeves, sucking in my belly as Cass slides the hidden zipper all the way up the corseted bodice. Stepping into four-inch white heels to complete the look, I take a deep breath and turn to face the floor-length mirror.
My lip quivers as I take in the entire ensemble. I’ve never really paid much attention to wedding dresses, but if I had to choose one, this is nearly identical to what I would pick.
The gown is perfectly tailored to my body, like the designer had all of my measurements and custom made it for me. The neckline is strapless and pushes up my breasts just enough to make me feel sexy. At my waist, the fabric flares out with a high slit that shows off my legs, which look like they’re a mile long thanks to the heels.
Emotion balls up in my throat because I feel so damn beautiful—I feel like a bride.
“How?” I whisper, blinking up at the ceiling to stop the tears.
Cass comes up behind me, holding my shoulders as she peers at us in the mirror with a smile. “Walker.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“He took your measurements when you were asleep to make sure they were perfect.”
“Of course he did,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I think the man might be developing a somno kink.”
My mind starts replaying the time that he woke me up with his hand between my legs, gently rubbing me until I was on the verge of orgasm at six in the morning.
“Wait—” I snap, interrupting my thoughts. “How did you get the dress so quickly? We only made the decision to stay married, like, a month ago.”
I’m pretty sure a wedding dress takes months to make. I guess in theory they could have purchased it off the rack and paid to have it altered, but even that takes time . . .
Cass winks and squeezes my shoulders. “Turns out that money talks, and we happen to know someone with a black AMEX.”
I turn to face her, letting out an amused exhale. “Claire does love spending money, doesn’t she?”
“It was actually Parker.”
Out of everything that has almost made me cry today, those four words send me over the edge. Guilt sits heavy in my stomach as the tears start to fall, painting little tracks of amnesty down my cheeks. I don’t know if he did this as penance to prove his character to me, or if it was out of the goodness of his heart, but it seems that Parker Winters isn’t the villain I thought he was . . . he might just be the hero.
Cass grabs a tissue and hands it to me.
“I’m sorry,” I sniffle, trying to contain my waterworks. “I was such a shitty friend, and I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this.”
There isn’t an ounce of anger, irritation, or resentment on her face. All I see is the pure love of a friend who knew that my heart was in the right place and didn’t let my words impact our relationship.
She pulls me in for a hug, telling me that I shouldn’t apologize and that she loves me over and over again until a knock sounds on the door.
I peek in the mirror to check my makeup, silently thanking the engineers who invented waterproof mascara because my face still looks flawless. Nobody would ever know that I had crocodile tears streaming down my face a second ago.
Nobody except . . . Walker?
“What happened? Are you okay?” He glares at Cass as he walks toward me in his perfectly tailored tuxedo.
I laugh, not even bothering to cover his eyes as they rake over my wedding dress. We’ve never done anything traditionally, so why start now?
“Down boy,” I tease, shooting Cass an apologetic glance before returning my focus to my husband. “They’re happy tears, I promise.”
Walker lets out an audible exhale, but the worry from his stubble-covered face doesn’t dissipate. He leans in and quietly says, “I intend to tell you just how incredible you look, but give me a second.”
Turning to Cass, he asks, “Do you mind giving us a few minutes? Parker is outside the door and wants to speak to you as well.”
“Um.” She sticks her tongue in her cheek and furrows her brow. “Okay? Did something happen?”
Walker says no, but his somber expression tells a different story.
Once we’re alone, we settle on the baby-blue velvet settee across the room, my body draped over his. I lean my head against his chest carefully, not wanting to get any of the ten layers of foundation on his crisp, white shirt.
“Caroline and Claire are going to be so pissed that you ruined the dress reveal,” I offer, trying to diffuse his mood.
“ I’m pissed that I ruined the dress reveal,” he grumbles, tilting my chin to meet his gaze. “You look stunning, and this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. Trust me.”
“How did you want it to happen?”
A wistful smile forms on his lips. “With me holding back tears while you walked down the aisle.”
“Yeah, right. You don’t cry,” I argue, trying to imagine him blubbering like those wedding videos you see on social media.
He laughs and takes my hands in his, intertwining our fingers and placing them in my lap. “You make me feel a lot of things for the first time, little devil.”
A surge of emotion flows through me as he squeezes my hand affectionately. Walker may be a broody, serious man on the outside, but he has this side to him that’s open and pliant, like he’s soft for only me.But right now it’s like he’s warring with two versions of himself. The one that he’s let me see over the past few months, and the one that he’s had to adapt from a life of disappointment.
“What happened?” I ask quietly, looking away because I can’t bring myself to face him when the other shoe drops.
I can hear his hard and obvious swallow. “Remember how Beau needed to get an extra cummerbund from Parker’s house because he lost his?”
“Yeah?” I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.
This is about the formal dress code?
Beau could come to the wedding wearing sweatpants and his cat-covered scrub cap for all I care—it’s really not that big of a deal.
“When he got there, he found something on the doorstep of thehouse . . .”
I pull back to meet his dark-brown eyes. “I didn’t shit on Parker’s doorstep, I promise. In January, I totally would have. But we’ve come around.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” His jaw is still tight but he lets out a laugh. “But the package on the doorstep was actually filled with documents.”
“Okay . . .”
“Legal marriage documents from Nevada,” he adds.
My lips tilt to the floor as I try to understand. “Why would we use Parker and Cassidy’s address? I barely even know my own address.”
Walker drags his gaze over my body with a pained expression, like it’s the last time he’s ever going to see me. When he finally focuses again, he stares for what feels like an eternity before saying, “Because we didn’t actually get married that night. They did.”
I can feel all of the blood drain from my face as my heart tumbles to my feet.
That can’t be right.
The text messages were sent to Walker’s phone number—not Parker’s. Why would the venue send them to him if we weren’t the ones to get married?
“Are you sure?” I challenge, not wanting him to be right. “I could totally see drunk me thinking that it would be funny to put their names down on the certificate instead of ours.”
He wets his lips before responding, “We called the chapel this afternoon to confirm. They keep detailed notes on each ceremony for this specific reason, and according to them, Parker and Cassidy’s phones were dead so I gave them my number instead. They left a voicemail to explain, but I deleted it the next morning like a dumbass.”
I guess that makes sense as to why Walker’s phone was the only one with pictures on it. When I scrolled through them the morning after, the only image that would remotely indicate a wedding took place was so blurry that you couldn’t tell who was in it. And since Claire insisted we all wear white, I automatically assumed I was the one in the photo.
Clearly, I was wrong.
“So—” I pause, trying to work out what this means for us.
If Parker and Cass are the ones who got married in Vegas, that means Walker and I aren’t really married. And if we aren’t really married, what are we doing here today? My mind feels like it’s going a million miles a minute, staring down multiple dimensions of possibilities like a tesseract .
Before I can get the next words out of my mouth, Walker speaks, “We have about an hour until guests arrive so you can take some time to think. I’ll handle it either way, but I need to know what you want to do.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” I ask, searching his face for a hint and finding nothing.
I know without a doubt that Walker loves me—he’s made it abundantly evident over the past month in everything he does. From the way he started reading books that he knew were important to me, to the way he got a tattoo to remind himself of me, his feelings have never been more clear.
But that also doesn’t mean he wants to be married again if he doesn’t have to be. Sure, he was confident and annoyingly rigid in his stance after Vegas, but what if that never happened? Would we still be here?
He squeezes my hand firmly. “This isn’t about me. Our relationship has always been about you, and it will always be about you. I’m not going to let my choice affect yours. If you want to get married, we’ll get married. If you want to call it off, we’ll call it off. Whatever you want, is what I want. And whatever you need, is what I need.”
I chew on my lip, pretending to mull it over even though this is the easiest decision I’ve ever made.
I’ve always been told that marriage is the hardest thing you’ll do in your life. That it will take from you, challenge you, and frustrate you. That there are no true happy endings. But if I’m being honest with myself, this past month hasn’t been the hardest of my life; it’s been the easiest, and I think that has a lot more to do with who my husband is, than the actual institution of marriage itself.
When I first got to know Walker, I thought he was an enigma—someone who was closed off, hard to read, and incredibly frustrating. But I’ve learned that his character actually boils down to a singular trait—determination.
Determination to build himself a better life.
Determination to learn from his mistakes.
And determination to make our relationship work, regardless of a title.
He’s shown me that love and submission not only go hand in hand, but they go both ways. And considering I’ve spent my entire life putting myself first, I think it’s about time that I change that. Because there’s no one I’d rather submit to than Walker.
So when the words leave my mouth, they feel comforting and exciting, like I’m opening the first chapter of my favorite book I’ve ever read.
“I want to marry you.”