Chapter 15 Sabrina
Sabrina
The courthouse smells like old wood polish and leather. My dress swishes around my ankles as I pace the narrow hall, palms sweating even though it’s a cool fall day outside. Noel’s already slipped inside to speak with the clerk, which leaves me alone, until heavy footsteps sound behind me.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s him.
“Sabrina.” His voice is low, and rough.
I whirl around, heat rising in my chest.
“You’ve got nerve showing up after last night.”
He flinches but doesn’t back down.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.” My throat tightens, but the words spill out anyway. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? You trying to talk me out of our marriage? Like I was some mistake you needed to undo before you came to your senses?”
His jaw works, clenching and relaxing as he tries to talk.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what the hell did you mean?”
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell the mint from his toothpaste. His eyes stare into mine, unwavering.
“I meant that I’m terrified. I wake up every morning wondering how the hell I got lucky enough. Sometimes I see an old man in the mirror who doesn’t deserve the brightest, fiercest woman in this town.”
The words slam into me harder than last night’s doubts.
“So, you tried to push me away before I figured it out myself,” I whisper.
He nods once, shame written across his face.
“I was a fucking idiot, Sabrina.”
I swallow hard, blinking fast.
“Cole, I don’t need perfect. I don’t need young. I don’t need anyone to save me. I built this life with my own hands. What I want, what I choose, is you. Gray hairs, splinters, and all.”
His chest rises like he’s been holding his breath for hours.
“You’d still choose me? After last night?”
I step forward until our bellies touch. My voice shakes, but it’s steady where it matters.
“Every damn time.”
His hand comes up, cupping my cheek like I’m something fragile.
“Then hear me now, Sabrina Blackwell. You’re it for me. My last, my only, my always. There’s not a universe where I walk out of this building without you.”
Tears sting my eyes, but this time they’re warm and soft, not bitter, and sharp. I cover his hand with mine and whisper, “Then let’s make it official. I wore this dress hoping you would come.”
“I’d be here, even if Noel didn’t text me last night.”
“She didn’t!”
Cole’s laugh vibrates from deep within his chest, warming my soul and soothing the raw edges of my bruised heart.
The courthouse room we get married in is small, all wood paneling and dusty sunlight, with a seal of the state hanging crooked behind the judge’s bench.
Not exactly the cathedral of romance but standing here with Cole’s hand wrapped tight around mine, it might as well be the grandest room in the world.
Noel slips in behind us, arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line. She levels Cole with a glare sharp enough to cut lumber. He shifts his weight but doesn’t let go of my hand.
The judge clears his throat, flipping through the papers on his desk.
“Cole Opolski and Sabrina Blackwell?”
“That’s us,” I say, squeezing Cole’s fingers.
Noel makes a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh. But when I glance at her, I catch the softening around her eyes. She might never forgive him for last night’s phone call, but she approves of this, of him showing up anyway, of me choosing him despite it all.
The judge drones on, legal words blurring into the rush of blood in my ears. I only snap back when he says, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Cole’s dark eyes lock on mine, steady, unflinching, the faintest tremor of fear still there, but stronger than that, a determination that roots me to the spot.
“I do,” I whisper.
“And do you take this woman—”
“I do.” Cole cuts him off, voice rough, urgent, like he’s been waiting his whole life to get it out.
Noel’s frown flickers into the ghost of a smile.
The judge stamps the papers, slides them into a folder, and clears his throat again.
“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”
Cole doesn’t wait for permission. His hand comes to my cheek, and then his mouth is on mine, firm, hungry, desperate. The kiss isn’t polished or gentle. It’s a promise, raw and binding. The courthouse walls disappear, the paperwork, the whispers, all of it gone.
When he finally pulls back, breath ragged against my lips, he murmurs, “I love you.”
I grin through the happy tears slipping down my cheeks.
“I love you too.”
Noel sniffles behind us.
“Well. About damn time.”
We step out of the courthouse into the sharp bite of late-morning air. The sky is pale and cloudless, the kind of clear that makes edges sharper. I clutch the paperwork in one hand, Cole’s warm grip anchoring the other.
Noel follows us down the steps, heels clicking, arms folded like she’s still the official chaperone of this whole event. She eyes Cole, long and deliberate.
“You break her heart again, lumberjack, and I’ll hex your beard clean off.”
Cole meets her glare without flinching.
“Wouldn’t blame you.”
That startles her enough to soften her frown. She leans in to hug me, quick and fierce, whispering, “Be happy.”
Then she’s gone.
The town is bustling with tourists, festival banners still strung across lampposts, but it all feels muted and distant. Cole turns to me, his hand sliding to the small of my back.
“Ready to go home, wife?” he asks, the last word thick in his throat.
Heat curls low in my belly. Wife. It sounds wicked on his tongue, dangerous and thrilling.
I lift my chin, daring him.
“Lead the way, husband.”
His answering grin is slow, hungry, and full of promise.
By the time we reach my apartment, my nerves are jangling again. The courthouse was all adrenaline and vows, but here, home, with Cole’s hand heavy on mine, it feels real in a different way. Later we’ll need to start packing his stuff and move him in, but his clothes can wait.
The cats greet us at once, Oswald darting between Cole’s boots like he’s inspecting the new tenant. Onyx and Obsidian perch on the counter, tails flicking, eyes narrowed as if to say we didn’t approve this arrangement.
Cole ducks through the doorway and immediately clips his shoulder against the doorframe.
“Shit.”
He winces, rubbing it, then nearly knocks over the stack of books teetering beside the couch. I rush forward, scooping them up in a flurry.
“Careful! Those are first editions. Well, some of them. Sort of. Okay, they’re dusty hardbacks, but still—”
He laughs, low and warm, and catches my wrist before I can scramble to put them away.
“Sabrina. It can wait.”
I blink up at him, breathless, half buried under my own clutter.
“But—”
“Enough,” he growls. “Leave it.”
He leans down, brushing his mouth over my mine, voice rough with something that makes my stomach flip.
“I don’t give a damn about the clutter. It’s you. That’s all I see.”
The words steal the air right out of my lungs.
He straightens, taking in the cramped apartment, the mismatched shelves, the clutter, and instead of seeming out of place, he looks…settled. Like this is exactly where he belongs.