Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
WEST
"Mr. Brooks, with all due respect, this is not a very good decision."
"I'm not paying you for your opinion. I'm paying you to do what I tell you to do." I snapped at Harrison, who was now on his third attempt to convince me that the marriage didn’t need to be real for things to work the way I wanted.
"But why not have a ceremony? Something public. Let people see it."
"I don’t need a parade to be married. She signed the paperwork, didn’t she?"
"Yes, sir. And Judge Robertson agreed to sign off on it tomorrow morning."
"Good." I leaned back in my chair. "By the time I head back to Harmony Haven on Friday, I’ll be a married man."
He stood slowly, still hesitant seeming to have more to say, but knowing it wouldn’t matter. We’d been at it for over an hour. I knew the drill. He thought I was being impulsive. Making a mistake. But even though he was my lawyer, he didn’t understand.
Being legally married was the only way I could protect Blue and her family. And I needed to make sure no one had a reason to dig deeper. A fake marriage without legal grounding could unravel under scrutiny, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
I didn’t know her well, not really. But I knew enough.
Enough to see the weight she carried, the burden she wore like armor.
And even with all the dark, jagged thoughts I carried about myself, I still knew how to fake being decent.
That’s all I’d done since my parents died.
My entire life had been putting on a polished front, smiling when I had to, shaking hands, and following through.
Dragging her into my lie, and offering her the bar, wasn’t enough. Not if it meant opening her up to more gossip, more damage. The legal protection of a real marriage made everything easier. Access, authority, credibility. Cleaner.
Once Harrison was gone, I stood and walked to the window. Atlanta sprawled below me, buzzing with energy, people moving about their day with purpose. Meanwhile, I was about to do the one thing I swore I never would: get married. Even if it was a ruse. Even if it came with an expiration date.
I was still pacing when my phone buzzed on the desk and I jumped toward it, thinking it was one of my brothers, most likely Easton.
It would be just like him to know what I had just done and call me at work to give me shit about it.
But when I glanced at the caller ID, it was a spam call labeled North Dakota.
I laughed at myself as I sent it to voicemail. Gossip would spread through town, but surely not that quickly. I’d be able to hold my brother off until Sunday dinner, I needed to calm down.
Another buzz of my phone sent my eyes back to the screen and that time, it was a text.
Blue
Don’t forget you’re supposed to work at the bar Friday night.
I rolled my eyes and let out a quiet groan. Truthfully, I had forgotten. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since I agreed, and I’d already mentally blocked it out for the sake of my sanity. What exactly did she think would be accomplished by me working at Fiddlers?
West
And don’t you forget that the paperwork is being signed by the judge tomorrow morning.
Blue
And don’t you forget we could’ve faked this without actually getting married.
I smirked. I could practically see her sitting at that beat-up desk at Fiddlers, legs crossed, probably sipping from a chipped mug, grinning as she typed. But not a sweet grin, more like a smug, victorious one. The kind that said I make more sense than you, and we both know it.
West
And don’t you forget that you’re coming back to Atlanta with me Sunday night. Your dad now has the best care in Georgia. You’ll have no reason to rush home.
The typing bubble popped up. Then disappeared.
Popped up again.
Then gone.
After a few minutes, it didn’t return.
She was debating whether or not to say something. That hesitation felt heavier than any words she might’ve sent. I wanted to know what she was thinking. Every time we talked, it chipped away at the lie we were living and made it feel a little more real. Which was good, right?
"Mr. Brooks, your three o’clock is here," Hattie’s voice came through the intercom. "I’ve also confirmed your private meeting with Clara Voss."
There was something in her tone. Not judgment exactly, but curiosity, maybe. Wondering why I was meeting privately with a woman like Clara Voss, especially after just introducing her to my fiancée. She probably had no idea who Clara was, though.
"I’ll be right in," I replied, offering no explanation.
Hattie was loyal. Hell, she was a saint for putting up with me. She’d been my assistant for years and had seen more than she ever commented on. But this? This wasn’t something I wanted to discuss or explain.
I’d already dug a deep enough hole.
The less I said, the safer we all were.