Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Caleb
We’re married.
I stand here in the courthouse in Hartford, my heart pounding as I look at Emmersyn. Her dark auburn hair cascades in soft waves, brushing against her shoulders. Her green eyes, sharp and alert, are locked on mine with an intensity that makes everything else fade away. For a moment, it’s just the two of us in this fluorescent-lit room, standing in front of a judge.
The ceremony is simple, just the two of us exchanging vows that feel both surreal and oddly intimate. When the judge pronounces us husband and wife, it’s like the world shifts, leaving only her and me in focus.
I lean in to seal our vows with a kiss. Her lips are soft, and everything else—anxiety, uncertainty, the strange thrill of it all—melts away.
It’s just strange to all of a sudden be married. I married Emmersyn Langley and I would love to say it was mainly because she seems to be the answer to my parent’s prayers, but honestly it’s not just that. In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve learned to like her. I’m not just marrying some stranger, but a woman I’m interested in getting to know.
That’s what happened to my parents. They met—had a shotgun wedding because of me—but fell in love and created a life. Instead of a baby, we’re getting hitched to help her and my family and I can see us getting to know each other better, becoming friends and falling in love.
As I pull back from the kiss, I catch the slightest hint of surprise in her eyes, like maybe she wasn’t expecting this to feel as real as it does. Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, we just stand there, a breath between us, the weight of what we’ve just done sinking in.
The judge clears his throat. Emmersyn glances at him, then back at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well,” she says softly, her voice a little breathless, “I guess we did it. ”
“Yeah,” I reply, my own voice steadier than I feel. “We really did.”
We turn to leave, the judge giving us a nod of approval, and I reach for her hand, intertwining our fingers. Her grip is firm, reassuring, and as we walk out of the courthouse together, the cool Connecticut air hits us, making everything feel more real. The sky is overcast, the kind of gray that makes you want to curl up with a blanket and a good book—something I know Emmersyn would appreciate.
We pause on the steps outside, neither of us in a hurry to move, to break whatever spell has wrapped around us. I glance at her, and she’s already looking at me, her expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “what now, Mrs. Cunningham?”
She laughs, a soft, genuine sound that makes my chest tighten in the best possible way. “Now, Mr. Cunningham,” she replies, “I suppose we make a copy of the marriage certificate before we file it. I’ll send it to the lawyer so they can release my trust.”
She sounds so professional, like she’s slipping into a role she’s played a thousand times. There’s something about Emmersyn I can’t quite figure out. Sometimes she’s warm and soft, full of sweetness, and then, out of nowhere, she turns cold, almost distant. I can’t pinpoint what triggers the shift, but I know I prefer the warm version of her—the one with the spark that makes everything feel brighter.
“Are we okay, Em?” I ask, my voice low as I try to push aside the doubt creeping in .
She nods, but there’s a sigh that follows, one that feels too heavy for the moment. “Yeah, it’s just . . . my grandmother won’t be happy.”
“You think it’s time I meet her?” I offer, half-joking, though the idea of facing her grandmother sends a small chill down my spine.
“Are you brave enough for that?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I say, more resolutely than I feel. “Let’s take care of the marriage license and then we’ll head back to New York. As I mentioned earlier, I want to stay with you for a couple of days, then I’ll head to my parents’ place for the rest of the week.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asks, her voice softening, almost hesitant.
“I’ll stay in touch,” I promise, leaning in to kiss her cheek, my lips brushing her skin with a tenderness that surprises me. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
As I pull back, I tuck a loose strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. Emmersyn glances down at her hand, where the small solitaire ring I bought her and the wedding band rest. The sight of them seems to pull her thoughts inward, her expression softening.
“Thank you for the rings,” she murmurs, her voice almost shy.
“It’s the least I could do, get a ring for my bride,” I reply, a hint of warmth in my tone. As the words leave my lips, I catch the faint blush rising on her cheeks, a delicate pink that makes her even more beautiful .
It’s a reaction so sweet and genuine that it tugs at something deep inside me, a feeling I hadn’t expected to find in this arrangement.
“Listen, Em,” I begin, my voice softening as I search her eyes. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the next seven years, but I hope we can at least become friends. And if more happens . . . Well, I think it’ll be the kind of unexpected magic you only find in those love stories people always dream about.”
She smiles, a soft curve of her lips, as if she wants to believe in what I’m offering but finds it too good to be true. Maybe it is, but I’m determined to show her that anything is possible—even us.