Chapter Seven
It’s been a long time since I last imagined my hypothetical wedding day with King, but it certainly wasn’t this—standing in the judge’s office lined with pegboard walls and maroon carpet that has seen ten years too many. I’m not even in a dress, though I did put on some nice slacks and my favorite pair of heels. They still don’t bring me up to King’s height, which is wildly unfair. I stopped growing at sixteen, and it feels like he grew six more inches after I left Willow Cove.
For some reason, the suit he’s wearing is really highlighting the fact that this man is so much more than the boy I left.
While the judge shuffles through some papers, a throat clears in the corner of the room, pulling my attention that way for the millionth time. Cooper Heyes has been glaring at me from the moment I showed up at the courthouse like it’s his personal mission to silently drive me out of town. He and I were never friends, but clearly he’s holding as much of a grudge as King is.
Maybe that’s because I sort of blackmailed Coop into flying me back to Willow Cove the night King proposed. And by sort of I mean absolutely. I needed a way off that island, and I couldn’t have King sitting next to me during the flight back.
King brought his pilot friend here as a witness, and I have no idea if Coop thinks this marriage is legit or not. Regardless, he doesn’t like it, and I still feel his glare even when I face forward again.
“Here we are.” Judge Delgado finds whatever he was looking for and slides a paper and pen toward me. “If you’ll sign here, Miss Carpenter.”
That’s it? I just write my name and then I’ll be married? I know it’s not real, but that marriage license looks very real, and no one but King—and Coop—knows I’m doing this. Not even my parents know, which will hopefully remain the case until after the divorce is final. Or indefinitely. I should have at least told Cecily so I would have someone on my side, though my best friend likely would have taken the first flight out of JFK and tried to stop me. All I’ve given her are a few vague texts so she knows I’m still alive, and she is not going to be happy with me when I fill her in later today.
“You can still change your mind,” King mutters beside me. He smells far better than he did yesterday. Looks better too. Where I tossed and turned all night, King looks like he had the best sleep of his life.
I probably look like a mess, but it’s not like King has noticed. He’s barely looked at me once since showing up at the bakery around ten this morning and telling Meg that she’ll need to handle everything herself for a couple of hours.
I swallow, surprised by the emotion that sits heavy in my throat. I’m getting married, and my husband-to-be can’t stand me. This might be the stupidest decision I’ve ever made, but I don’t have a lot of options. King doesn’t either. We can make this work. I can make this work.
I scribble my name and hand the pen to King, who signs without hesitation.
“Are there any objections?” the judge asks, looking at Coop.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not going to stop them.”
“Very well.” Given the nature of this marriage, we probably should have brought in some lawyers, but it’s too late now. The judge declares us husband and wife and invites us to kiss if we choose.
It seems weird not to, but my new husband would have to look at me for us to take that step. And it’s probably weird if we do kiss. This isn’t a real marriage, and we’re going into it with the knowledge that it is going to end as soon as it can.
Still, I look at King and wonder what’s going through his head. I doubt he would have even considered this arrangement if he wasn’t desperate, but I’m not sure how I feel about him being completely unaffected by our sudden change in marital status. He claimed to love me at one point—he said it many times, in fact—and I still have occasional moments when I wonder what might have been if I had stayed.
“Mr. Kingston?” The old judge leans forward, glancing between us because neither of us have moved. “Are you alright, son?”
King blinks, his eyes slide over to me, and then suddenly his mouth is on mine. A hundred memories come rushing back with the feel of his lips, but he’s gone before I can react or respond, pulling away and taking my hand.
“We need to get back to work,” he says and tugs me to the door. “Thanks, Judge Delgado.”
“Anytime,” the judge replies. “Well, not anytime, obviously. You only get married once.”
Suddenly I feel slightly sick. Maybe I caught the bug King had yesterday. I think I may have crossed too far into the “anything to get the job done” side of my personality, but it’s too late to go back now.
Coop silently follows us out, hands in his pockets and enough judgment in his expression to say everything he’s holding back.
None of us say anything until we reach King’s truck. I’m still feeling a little off balance from that kiss, so I just stand here and try to process the notion that I’m a married woman now. A wife. That’s my husband standing next to me with his jaw clenched and a whole lot of something brewing behind his eyes.
“Coop,” he says eventually, “you’ll help make sure everyone thinks it’s real?”
I frown, glancing between the two men. “You told him it’s fake?”
King shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because he could tell other people.”
“He wouldn’t do that. Would you, Coop?”
Coop lifts an eyebrow but says nothing, which is not at all reassuring.
Folding my arms, I do my best to look fierce, though it’s hard to feel like I have any leverage when I’m boxed in by two large men. I am not starting off this marriage, no matter how short it will be, by being pushed around. “You do realize that we’re married now, which means we’re in this together, right? You can’t make decisions about this arrangement without my input.”
King matches my stance, and of course he looks way more impressive with his large arms and broad shoulders. “You’re telling me you haven’t given Cece all the details of this arrangement?”
“How do you know about Cece?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Well?”
“No, I haven’t told her…yet.” I tack that last word on reluctantly. “But it’s not the same when she isn’t in Willow Cove. Coop is here, and he knows all the people we have to convince that we are happily married.”
“You’re doing a terrible job of it, by the way,” Coop mutters, frowning at each of us in turn. “Do I need to be worried about the two of you strangling each other in the middle of the night? And I don’t mean that as a euphemism.”
I groan. “Why are you still here?”
Shrugging, he starts looking at the sky with disinterest. “Because King is my ride back to Coral Berry. If you want my opinion…”
“I don’t,” I grumble.
“You should show up at the boardwalk together. Half the town probably knows what just went down in the courthouse.”
“Already?” It was so much easier to keep things a secret in New York, where people minded their own business. “Ugh, I hate small towns.”
Maybe I imagine it, but King winces a little before he digs his keys out of his pocket and hands them to Coop. “We’re planning a honeymoon at the end of the season, when everything calms down and we don’t have businesses that need our attention.” He says it in a way that is clear he’s expecting his friend to help spread that explanation for why we’re going back to our day like nothing has happened instead of celebrating our nuptials.
Coop nods. “Fine. Just remember I’ve got an extra cot in the boat house if you need an escape.” He gives King a pointed look, throws another glare toward me, and then climbs into King’s truck and drives off.
And now I feel entirely awkward, which is exactly how a girl wants to feel on her wedding day with her new husband. “So.”
King narrows his eyes. “So.”
“You kissed me.”
“I had to make it look real.”
“Are you going to have to do that a lot?”
“Hopefully not.”
“Agreed.” Honestly, I’m not sure if I say that because I don’t want him to kiss me or because I do. I did plenty of dating over the last ten years and got my fair share of kisses, but something about King’s kiss is still buzzing around inside of me. I don’t like it. “We should probably lay down some more specific rules when it comes to being out in pub—”
“Is that Royal Kingston I see?” An older woman sashays across the parking lot with the grace of a waddling goose, her gray hair making a valiant effort to escape the braid it’s in. She has a wide smile on her face, but the look in her eyes is anything but friendly. “I just heard the craziest thing about you.”
Before I can even try to remember if I know this woman, King tugs me up against his side and splays his hand at my waist. Goodness, did his hands get bigger too? Heat spreads through me from his fingers to the tip of my nose, and it was already hot outside to begin with. I’m probably beet red right now.
“Mrs. Pinnock,” he says cheerfully. “I’d bet you’re glad to have school over for a few months. What adventures have you and Carl planned for this summer?”
She clucks her tongue at him. “Now now, Royal, you won’t distract me that easily.” Her eyes stray over to me, sliding from my head to my toes and making me burn even warmer. “Who is this delightful little miss?”
She’s clearly asking the question of King, even though her eyes are still fixed on me. It’s like she’s expecting me to stand here in silence, which has never been my style.
I hold out a hand. “Georgie Carp—” I yelp when King’s fingers dig into my side. It’s as much the tickle of it as it is the proximity I haven’t had a chance to process. “Georgie,” I repeat, leaving off my last name. I have no plans to change it, but I can see why it will confuse people if I go around advertising myself as not a Kingston.
“My wife,” King adds. His voice isn’t as strong as it was a second ago. The words seem to fall out of him, and his grip on my waist tightens, making me squirm again.
Mrs. Pinnock’s mouth falls open in a large O as she ignores my outstretched hand entirely. “Your…your wife? Surely not.”
“Surely yes,” I argue, forcing what I hope is a loving smile as I lean into King and look up at him. “At least, I’m hoping it was a marriage license we just signed and not a contract with the devil.”
“I’d never share you with the devil,” King says. More like growls. He moves me so I’m directly in front of him now, both arms tucked around me, and then presses a kiss to my neck.
My whole body erupts in goosebumps, and I have to put all my focus into breathing. The old King never pulled that move.
“But…” Mrs. Pinnock looks like she wants to both argue against our marriage and call us out for being indecent in public. She waits another moment, during which King leaves a trail of kisses up to my ear, and then she waddles toward the courthouse without another word.
As soon as she’s out of sight, King takes a step away from me and leaves a chilled gap between us. “That was the high school principal, by the way,” he says calmly. “I told you about her before, right? She’ll verify that we really did get married, and then she’ll spread the word that the rumors are true.” How does he look so normal right now? I feel like I might melt into the pavement. “We should really get back. I have to open the surf shack, and Meg doesn’t like being on her own for long.”
Swallowing a huge gulp of air, I hold it in my lungs until my heart stops trying to beat out of my chest. Then I lead the way to my car, telling myself that I’m being ridiculous. There’s no reason for me to have that kind of reaction to the man when he’s only going to be in my life for a few weeks. No matter how attractive he is, he’s never going to be more than a means to an end.
I made sure of that when I ran away.
We’re halfway to the boardwalk when I finally speak. “Maybe don’t do that again.” I figure being direct is the only way I’ll protect myself from more unexpected contact with the man next to me.
King keeps his eyes out his window. “Yep. Other rules?”
“Hand-holding is fine,” I decide out loud. “But I’d like a warning if you ever think a kiss is necessary.”
“Likewise. And if you could avoid smiling at me, that would make this a lot easier.”
I scoff. “I can’t smile at you? Why not?”
His jaw clenches so tightly that a muscle bulges near his ear.
Though I wish I could get a better look at his face, I force my eyes back to the road as I drive. “Are you attracted to me, Royal?”
He groans. “There was a time when I wanted to marry you, Georgie. Of course I’m attracted to you. And don’t call me that.”
“I don’t think you ever told me why you don’t like your name.”
“Because it’s ridiculous.”
I finally feel like I’m relaxing, and I need to embrace this feeling as long as I can. As soon as we get to Coral Berry Boardwalk, we’ll have to perform again. “I always liked the name Royal.”
“You’re not the one who had to grow up with the name Royal Kingston.”
“No, but now everyone is going to think I’m Georgie Kingston, which isn’t much better. They might as well call me King George.”
He finally turns his head and gives me a glance, some of the tension leaving his body. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad. Maybe I should take your name.”
“And be named Royal Carpenter?”
He snorts. “Definitely not.”
We settle into a sort of silence until I pull into the parking lot off the boardwalk. The ocean is rolling in the distance, wispy clouds floating lazily above the horizon, and a soft breeze brushes across the grasses in the sand. Willow Cove really is beautiful, and I missed the beaches and the sunshine. Yeah, New York has sun too, but it’s blocked out by all the skyscrapers and pollution.
I can breathe here in a way I couldn’t there.
“Well…” King says, unclipping his seatbelt and sitting up straight. “Back to work?”
I grimace. “We’re going to have to tell Meg that we just got married,” I say, wishing I’d spent more than a few hours with the young woman. She seems to like me well enough, but this is kind of a big thing. “Something tells me she’s not going to like that.”
All of the tension floods back into King’s body, and I almost grab his hand to offer some sort of comfort. But I don’t. “Oh, she’s going to hate it,” he says. “I didn’t think about that.”
“It will just take some time for her to get used to—”
“No.” He shakes his head and then slips out of the car, waiting until I’m outside as well before he explains. “Meg is…” He squirms a little, his face twisting up as if he’s searching for the right words. “She, uh… I…” Then he blushes.
I gasp. “Were you and Meg mixing business with pleasure?” I instantly hate the idea.
“No!” He runs a hand through his hair, which doesn’t seem to be enough to ease his discomfort because he tugs his tie loose and slips out of his suit coat as well. He looks around, probably making sure no one is nearby, and then he lowers his voice. “No, of course we weren’t. I would never… She seems to like me. I mean, she looks at me like…”
I fold my arms. “Like you’re one of the most attractive men in Willow Cove? Well, obviously. Look at you.”
My comment only deepens the color in his face, and he growls a little as he starts pacing. “Georgie, that’s not helping.”
“What? You said it about me.”
“Exactly. I don’t…” He stops with a huff, and for the first time since he found me on the boardwalk when I first got here, he seems to drop whatever walls he’s put up so now I can really see him. He looks lost. Worn down. Even more so than before. “I don’t know how to navigate this, Georgie. With our history, this is…complicated.”
The relief at knowing I’m not the only one who is getting confused by all this falls flat when I realize what he’s saying. “This marriage isn’t real, King.”
“I know that.” But he frowns as he leans on the hood of my car, staring at the metal beneath his fingers. “And it has to stay that way. I can’t get caught up in your orbit just for you to leave me drifting again.”
His surprising admission shouldn’t sting, but it does. I know I hurt him when I left, but it’s not like I was the only one in that relationship. I wouldn’t have ended things if he had just talked to me before dropping to one knee. Everything was changing at the end of that summer, and he decided he knew what was best for me.
“I’m not meant to be in a place like this forever,” I whisper, speaking as much to the King of ten years ago as to the one in front of me.
He looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine in a way that makes him look the same way he did back then. This man is so good, and any woman would be lucky to be loved by him. But his life is here and always will be, and I’ve never been able to imagine myself staying in this town forever.
“How do we do this?” he asks quietly.
I shrug. “One day at a time?”
“Okay.”
“Or maybe one moment at a time.”
“Even better.”
I grab a pair of tennis shoes from the back seat, since I’m not about to stand in a bakery for hours in my heels, and then I look at King with determination. “First things first, I’m going to make you tell Meg that I’m your wife.”
He winces. “No, see, I thought it would go over better if you did that.”
Yeah, definitely not taking on that task. “But she knows you better.”
“You’re less likely to get slapped.”
I can’t help but laugh. Meg seemed nice enough when I worked with her, and it sounds like King never really gave her any signs that he might be interested. Unless he did without realizing it, which seems more likely than he thinks. If he’s anything like the guy I knew, he was probably plenty friendly and unknowingly filled her with hope.
I start walking toward the boardwalk, knowing King will follow because he always does. But now I have his orbit analogy in my head, and I can practically feel him behind me like he’s the moon to my planet, tugged along with me while I take my own path. Was it always that way?
“I’m not going to say a word to her,” I tell him, shaking away the unease that starts building in my belly. King is doing me a huge favor—monumental—by giving me his uncle’s bakery, and I don’t want him to feel like he’s being steamrolled. Outside of this Meg problem, anyway. “So unless you want her to hear the news from one of the regulars, you’re going to be the one to break it to her.”
He swears under his breath and then picks up his pace to walk even with me. “I forgot how stubborn you can be.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. But I hoped you grew out of it.”
I snicker. “I grew out of a lot of things, like skinny jeans and A cups, but I like to think I’ve only gotten more hard-headed.”
I can almost feel his eyes stray to my chest, though he quickly forces his gaze forward again as he says, “Is that why your boyfriend dumped you?”
The question catches me so off guard that my foot catches on a slightly raised plank of wood, tripping me. The only reason I don’t faceplant is because King grips my elbow.
“Sorry,” he says as he helps me up. He doesn’t sound all that apologetic. “I was curious if it was a creative differences sort of thing or if he got annoyed by your stubbornness too many times.”
“How do you even know about that?” I had planned to never mention Lane, seeing as my past relationship has no bearing on this one outside of the breakup being the reason I ended up here.
“Your stubbornness? It’s your defining feature.” He chuckles when I glare at him. I don’t think he’s trying to be mean—I don’t know if he’s capable of being truly cruel—but I wouldn’t be surprised if this is his way of putting up some walls between us again. I’ll accept it, but only because those walls are going to be necessary if we want things to stay black and white.
“Coop,” he says when I don’t respond to his teasing. “Apparently he’s a fan of your show.”
“It’s not my show. Not anymore.” And as much as I never loved being on TV, Lane’s unilateral decision to kick me out will never sit easy with me. I know things were rough between us, but I didn’t think they were that bad. How many signs did I miss because I was so focused on what was ahead of me? It’s ironic how much time I spent trying to make sure things were working so I could control what happened, only for that determination to be the reason I lost control entirely.
I fold my arms around myself and sigh. “We should really get to the bakery and tell Meg that we’re married so she knows she works for me too now.”
Thankfully, he accepts my deflection and nods. “Yeah, I’ve got a lesson in an hour, so I should get that slap sooner than later so it has some time to fade.”
Meg doesn’t slap King, which seems to genuinely surprise him, but she does glare daggers at him when he leaves the bakery. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with me now that I’m not just a helping hand, eventually choosing to pretend I don’t exist as she goes about her tasks, and I decide I should probably watch my back from here on out.
Just in case.