Chapter 11
Noelle
“Wakey, wakey, sugar. Time for breakfast.”
I hear Nick call out to me on the other side of my bedroom door.
I roll over and reach for my phone to check the time and notice it’s eight in the morning.
On a Saturday. Unless I have to get to the inn for some reason, I never wake up on Saturdays before nine.
The hope was to sleep in a little longer while we’re in Boston but apparently I’m not getting that luxury.
“Mmm, it’s too early!” I shout back, my words muddling together since I’m still half asleep.
I hear the door push open and his footsteps padding across the old hardwood floor. Opening my eyes, I find him standing at the end of the bed wearing an apron, staring at me. I pop straight up and glare at him.
“Nick! You can’t just come in here, what if I slept naked,” I scoff, pulling the comforter up to my neck as if I am sleeping naked.
I’m not, but I don’t need him to see that I packed my Christmas patterned pajamas with me.
They are my favorite pair and I packed them intentionally so they’d bring me a little bit of joy this weekend while we did what had to be done.
I still can’t believe he agreed to this and the low hum of panic joined me as I threw a bunch of stuff into a suitcase so we could make our flight to Boston in time.
A trip to Boston which is only happening because he insisted we come here to get married.
I told him we could drive to the next town over and get it done back in Vermont but he wouldn’t hear it.
“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t seen before, sugar,” he says with a wink and a wicked smirk. I throw my pillow at him and scowl.
“Get out so I can get dressed,” I demand, pouting at him for his comment. I don’t need him reminding me that he’s already seen me naked. It was a long time ago but still, he didn’t need to remind me.
“I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready. I made homemade waffles and bacon.” He throws the pillow back at me before turning towards the door.
My face falls as I stare at his back, practically forcing my eyes to stay on his shoulders instead of falling any lower. I love waffles and bacon.
“With sprinkles and chocolate chips?” I ask, keeping my voice small.
He turns to look at me, flashing me his dimples when he does. “It’s the only way you take them.” He shrugs before heading down the stairs.
Of course he would remember my favorite breakfast. I roll my eyes and am annoyed by how hard he’s making being mad at him.
Every time I try to remind myself that he broke my heart then ran away, he does something like tell me how the stupid little stone I gave him is his favorite memory or makes me my favorite breakfast without being asked. If only he was ugly or something.
Stepping out of bed, I pull my suitcase out and rifle around for the outfit I packed for today.
We fly out again tomorrow, only in town long enough to get married and get back home.
Slipping into the dress I brought, I pull my hair back behind my head, braiding the sides of it together so it isn’t in my face.
I wash my face quickly in the bathroom sink, brush my teeth, and look at myself in the reflection of the mirror.
“It’s only temporary,” I whisper to myself. “Completely fake. Don’t let your heart run away with itself. Keep your wits to you. You’re doing this for Holly House and nothing more. You can do this.” Giving myself a confident nod in the mirror, I head downstairs to meet my husband-to-be.
Reaching the bottom of the steps I can smell breakfast from the end of the hallway. The classic smell of a waffle iron entices me closer to the kitchen. Stepping into the room, my eyes flash to the small stone sitting in the window sill, reminding me of the exchange we shared last night.
“There she is, my beautiful bride,” he beams, spinning around and sliding a plate across the island. You’re only his fake bride and he doesn’t really think you’re beautiful. His eyes narrow and his nose pinches up when he looks at my outfit. “Is that what you’re wearing today?”
I raise a brow at him, offended by his question. “Yes? Do you have a problem with it? I’ll have you know this isn’t one of those marriages where the husband is all controlling or whatever. While this is all pretend, we sure as hell aren’t pretending that way.”
“First off, I’m hurt that you think I’d be that kind of husband,” he starts, bringing a hand over his heart. “And second, I think you look beautiful in what you have on, but you can’t get married in that.”
I look down and take in my dress before looking back at him. “And why the hell not?”
“It’s black? It’s your wedding day not your funeral” He talks as if wearing black is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. As if marrying him for the sake of my family inheritance isn’t worse.
“And what, you want me to wear white like I’m some sort of virgin sacrifice?
We both know that’s not true, Nick.” I slip onto the stool and eye him as I pull the plate he’s offered me closer.
The air grows thick at the mention of how he would know particularly well about my lack of virginism seeing as he’s the one who took it away.
He clears his throat after a beat and turns to turn another waffle out of the iron.
“This is our wedding day, Noelle. I think we should do it right.”
“This is our fake wedding day,” I remind him. “Fake, as in not real? As in, we don’t have to do it in any sort of way other than just doing it? It’s fine if I wear black.”
“We’ll go shopping before we go to the courthouse. We need to get you flowers and our rings anyway,” he says matter-of–factly.
“We do not need flowers or rings,” I argue. “This isn’t real, we don’t need to play into all the tradition.”
He leans with his hands on the counter and looks at me with conviction.
“Noelle, we are going to go home tomorrow and have to convince the entire town that we got married for real. A piece of paper isn’t going to convince your grandmother, we have to sell it.
And selling it means doing it up the right way. White dress, bouquet, rings, photos.”
“Photos?” I nearly shriek. “You want to commemorate our fake nuptials forever in pictures?”
He leans over and adds whipped cream to the top of my waffles and smiles at me. Part of me wants to punch him and the other desperately wants to kiss him.
“Eat up, sugar. We have a lot to do today.”
I slump down on my stool and stare at my plate.
“I can’t believe you made my favorite breakfast,” I mumble.
“I can’t believe you’d think I’d be able to forget anything about you.” His eyes are soft as he says it and my heart does that thing that makes me feel like I’m going to blush. Instead, I turn my brows down and scowl at him.
“Shut up and eat your waffle. We have a lot to do today,” I mutter before taking an overly aggressive bite of my waffle. And much to my dismay, it’s the best damn waffle I’ve had in years.
Several hours, a trip to the florist, and one white dress later, we’re waiting for our names to be called in to be married by the judge.
Nick happily paid all the fees to waive the normal rules to get married the same day.
I guess he meant what he said when he told me he’d help me with whatever I needed.
Excited couples sit around us, snuggled up next to one another in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, ready to be named husband and wife.
Meanwhile I’m sitting in my seat, leg crossed over my knee, trying to create as much space between me and him as possible.
My stomach is in knots as our appointment time draws closer and the reality of calling Nick Winters my husband becomes more and more real.
I know we have agreed to do this, but now that it’s here and it’s actually happening my stomach is trying to eject itself from my body.
My index finger and thumb play with the hem of my new white dress he bought for me.
We found it at a department store and while I wouldn’t call it a wedding dress, it’s still one of the prettiest dresses I’ve ever seen.
It’s white and simple with elaborate piping and beading, it fits me like a glove, and it was the only one left in my size at the store.
When I tried it on, he asked me to come out so he could see.
Stepping out of the dressing room I thought he might fall over when he took me in and again, I had to remind myself that this is all fake.
The rings we bought at the same department store are simple yet pretty.
He bought me a small, diamond studded band and got himself a plain silver one to match.
They now sit in a box inside his jacket pocket, waiting to be worn for the short, foreseeable future.
“Winters,” a voice calls out. I look up from my chair and see a kind looking woman standing in the doorway. Nick stands before me and offers me his hand to help me up.
“Ready, future Mrs. Winters?” He beams, acting way too genuine for something that will be over before we know it.
“I told you, I’m keeping my last name,” I remind him, dropping his hand and walking towards the woman waiting on us.
“Fine, then I’ll change my name to Holly. It’ll be easier for the kids if we have the same last name.”
I whip my head around to glare at him. “That’s not funny. We aren’t having kids together.”
“That’s what you say now,” he teases with a smirk.
I roll my eyes at him and at the thought of having kids with him. I don’t know why he’s playing into this so much—it’s just the two of us. He can save the performance for when we’re back in Evergreen.
We’re called to the front of the room where an older man with a full white beard stands holding some sort of book.
He asks us a few questions before moving into the standard motions you expect to see at any courthouse wedding.
Nick takes my hands into his and holds my gaze as we stand there, listening to a complete stranger marry us.
When it’s time for us to say our vows, he repeats after the judge with so much certainty and confidence that it almost seems real.
Then it’s my turn to repeat the words back.
“I, Noelle Holly, take you, Nick Winters, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” As I speak the words, an old part of me, one I’ve packed away into a tiny box and stowed away for good, starts to peek out.
The part of me that wished more than anything that one day, I would get to marry Nick.
The young, naive piece of me that stood there crying as he climbed into his truck and drove away after breaking my heart into a million pieces.
Tears prick my eyelids as I finish the vows and I do what I can to push them back.
“Now you may kiss the bride,” the magistrate says to Nick with a smile before stepping out of the way.
“Wait, what?” I deadpan, completely forgetting about the kissing part of this whole ordeal.
The old man looks confused and repeats himself. “You may kiss the bride.”
Nick looks at me hesitantly, like he’s waiting for me to give him the okay.
The kiss! How could I forget about the freakin’ kiss?
Kissing him is not going to make pretending any easier, how could I forget about the kiss?
Okay, it’s a single kiss and then that’s it.
I can survive one kiss. Right? Right. I glance at the old man staring at us, confused why we haven’t kissed already, before looking at Nick.
Pulling my lips into a tight line, I give him a sharp nod that it’s okay to kiss me.
Leaning in, he places a hand on my waist and pulls me closer.
I close my eyes, ready for this to be a quick peck and move on.
One and done, that’s it, rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.
What I get instead is completely different.
It’s slow, soft, and feels almost like a dream.
Keeping a hand on my waist, he pulls me closer and places his other hand on my neck, framing my face and holding me close.
His breath somehow smells like peppermint and when our faces are close enough, I can see each individual lash on his eyes.
His features are more mature than they were twelve years ago but he’s still the same boy I’ve been in love with since I was sixteen.
When he kisses me, it’s like no time has passed between us.
His lips press into mine for a moment before he leans into it a little more.
Dipping me back, the people waiting to be married hoot and holler at the bravado of the kiss until he lifts me back up and pulls away.
We hover only a few inches apart as we work to catch our breath.
“I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Winters,” the man says, clapping a few times with the other people in the room.
A smile spreads across his face, his hand still looped around the nap of my neck. “You ready to fool an entire town, Mrs. Winters?”
I manage a small nod and a laugh as my brain is still working to reconnect itself after our kiss.
“Sure am,” I say as confidently as I can muster.
The biggest person I know I’m fooling though is myself.