Chapter 15
Gabriel
River’s posture is rigid as she stares ahead while she and I are driving away from the courthouse.
Jana took Skye back to Caring Souls and Milo went back to the resort, so it’s only the two of us.
“Did you send the photos to your family?”
Her tone of voice is as breezy as if she’d asked me what I’d eaten for breakfast. Except she’s in a wedding dress and we just got married, so the tone isn’t fitting at all.
The photos she’s referring to are the ones Jana and Milo took. A few right after the ceremony—probably with my luck, during the kiss—and a few out on the steps of the courthouse. It doesn’t matter who knows what we just did. Let the news spread far and wide. It’s a done deal. No one can try to talk us out of it now.
River Judkins is, technically, my wife. And she looks stunning and sexy in that gown.
I clear my throat, focusing on keeping the car steady on the winding road ahead. “I haven’t sent the photos yet. I thought I’d wait until tomorrow morning. There’s going to be pandemonium. Everyone’s going to think we’ve lost our ever-loving minds.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Tates.”
I only grunt, glancing over at River before recommitting to keeping my eyes on the road from now on. Again, my mind fixates on how unbelievably beautiful she looks in the dress and if I’m not careful, I’m going to be having thoughts of what an orthodox wedding night would be like.
And I cannot go there.
This whole thing is unorthodox, and my action plan for this year is to remember that.
I heard her on the phone with the person she trusts most, Jana, last week. It was clear she doesn’t want to be married. And even though I know that logically, I’ve known it all along, a small part of me wondered if we’d eventually come to terms with it and maybe enjoy it when it’s all said and done.
I wondered if maybe we’d even fall for each other. But she’s only doing this for the money Skye will be getting.
Which makes sense. I have my own ulterior motives, too. I made that clear right up front. She knows what this is.
But for her to feel so much . . . animosity . . . toward me. Well, it’s hard to take that in stride sometimes.
So, yeah. Buttoning up every thought of her as anything but a business partner—someone I’m orchestrating a brilliant means to an end with—is essential.
“I love the ring,”
she adds quietly, stretching her arm out and twisting her hand back and forth.
“It looks good on you. And the pink nails are nice, too.”
Why does my voice sound funny, like I’m trying to convince my teacher not to send me to detention?
“What do you think of your ring?”
Her mouth twists to one side and what I thought was vulnerability now seems like teasing.
I bring my left hand up and curl my fingers into my palm so I can see it. “I need to get a better look at it, but I like it. Thank you.”
“My options were limited. But come on, who else can say their wedding ring has a sword in a stone and the word ‘Excalibur!’ engraved on it?”
“Is that what that is?”
I clear my throat. “That’s cool.”
We’re in this stage of extreme politeness, which is either kind of funny or very pathetic.
A ring with a medieval sword on it could be a good omen. Then again, she might have gotten it to mess with me.
In any case, I’m impressed.
“What did you think of the ceremony?”
I ask, realizing before the sentence is fully out of my mouth that I sound like her earlier, like I could be asking something casual like if she wants ice in her drink.
I see out of the corner of her eye her mouth dropping open in an air of disbelief.
“Well, I thought it would be as boring and basic as a wedding could be. If beige were a wedding, that’s what I thought we’d get.”
“I thought it would be more greige,” I add.
“But it wasn’t,”
she says. “Milo should consider becoming a vicar in the English countryside. He’s good.”
“Right?”
If she thinks that kiss was beige or greige, I will defend my stance on it to the grave. Even thinking of it now, my foot becomes leaden on the gas pedal as my knees bounce with adrenaline.
“Um, would you mind not trying to win Nascar right now?”
She’s clutching the steadying handle on her side door. “We’re on Lakeside Road, for heaven’s sake. There are a lot of wildlife and hikers around here.”
I ease my foot off the gas pedal and resume a respectable speed.
“Thanks,”
she says. “But at least it’s over.”
She sighs and slips her shoes off.
“You might have just hurt the one feeling I have by being so excited for the wedding to be over, River.”
“I’ve never gotten married for pretend before. It was strange.”
She gasps and points her finger in the air. “Scratch that. I got married to Tyson Hildegrant in the second grade during recess one time. So, there’s that.”
“You’re practically an expert.”
“Indeed.”
Then she gasps again and whips her head around to look at me. “Are you calling me easy?”
“No,”
I sputter. “That’s not what I—”
She laughs, pressing a hand to her middle. “I’m kidding. So, any big plans tonight?”
I actually had gotten a few very bland, non-coupleish things to do just in case. Some card and board games, and I’d made a list of movies we could download and watch, if she wanted.
“Well, since we won’t be having a typical wedding night, we’d better come up with something we can do.”
Like not focusing on exactly what’s not happening tonight.
“I’ll probably just go to bed. To sleep,”
she clarifies. “I’m exhausted.”
“Speaking of bed . . .”
I hesitate. I probably should have talked to her about this earlier. “I have a really nice bed for you. And since my place is more like a cottage than a house, I’m firing up the old air mattress in the living room. I thought I’d explain so things weren’t weird when we got there, you know?”
“Oh, I think things are going to be weird regardless, but . . .”
she says. “I’m not going to let you do that. I’ll take the air mattress.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not going to put my . . . my wife . . . on the floor tonight.”
“It’s hard to say, right?”
Her brown eyes scrunch together, and she smiles. “Your wife. My husband.”
I can see from the corner of my eye that she’s stretching out her mouth at odd angles. “Wife.”
Stretch. Stretch. “Husband.” She shudders.
I tip my head in a chuckle.
“Anyway, I’m not taking the one bed you have at your house. I’m fine on the floor,” she says.
“River, listen. This is my house, my rules. It’s not up for discussion. End of story. Period.”
“Wow. Look at you, going all Tate on me.”
“Tate on you?”
She waves me off. “It’s nothing. I have to make a phone call.”
She calls Skye, who’s on her way to her new home, and gives her instructions, reassuring her again that Jana has her dog safely in a kennel at her house, that everything’s going to be fine, and she’ll come by tomorrow to visit her in her new place.
When she gets off the phone, she’s got tears in her eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
She swallows hard, her gaze out the window. “It’s just been a wild day, that’s all.”
“A lot of changes, yes.”
A chuckle bursts out of her. “Right? This is hands down the most wild thing I’ve ever done.”
“Except for that weekend in Prague, this is a close second.”
She cringes loudly. “I don’t know, that was one twenty-four-hour period. This is for an entire year. I think this is more wild.”
“Agree to disagree.”
She shakes her head and sniffs. “No matter what, it hardly feels real. It hasn’t hit me yet.”
“Me, neither.”
We reach the house, and she gasps a third time. Is this a thing for her? The gasping at everything? I can’t decide if I like it or not.
“You weren’t kidding when you said it was tiny.”
“I think you’re going to like it,”
I assure her.
I ease the Bronco into the detached garage around back. And as I open the door to the house, I don’t miss that in a normal scenario, I’d be carrying her over the threshold of this place. I would love to hold her in my arms like that.
I let out a short, hot breath. I have to get over thinking like this. I can’t let her beauty get to me.
This is going to be a very long year.