Chapter 63
Tilda
Ethan stops a foot away from Ralph.
And I swallow.
Ethan dwarfs him.
His height. His muscles. His aura of intensity.
Ralph has to tip his chin up to maintain eye contact.
And I wish so badly that I could take a photo of this moment without breaking it.
“I had a cousin.” Ethan’s tone is conversational as he unbuttons one cuff. He shrugs and starts to roll up his sleeve. “Second cousin, technically. Last I heard, he went missing in Eastern Europe. That was a few years back. Might still be alive. If anyone could do it, it’d be him.”
Ethan shifts and works on his other sleeve.
Ralph takes a step back. “What does your missing cousin have to do with anything?”
“When I was a kid, my parents left me in his care for a weekend. He took me hunting.” Ethan takes a step forward.
“I was too small to carry a rifle, so he gave me a knife. And when he shot a deer, he taught me how to clean it. I slaughtered the second one on my own. In under ten minutes.” Ethan slides his hands into his pockets.
“I cut myself a few times, trying to work that fast. Blood makes things… slippery.”
Ralph tries to take another step back, but bumps into his father. “W-what’s the point of this story?”
Ethan leans a little closer. “You remind me of that weekend.”
Ralph makes a squawking sound.
Holy. Crap.
I run my damp palms down my skirt.
Did I just get turned on by watching Ethan threaten Ralph?
Ethan turns back to me. “Your mom and one other person can come as witness.”
My aunt steps forward. “I’ll go.”
She says it like it’s a sacrifice. And not something she’s volunteering to do.
“Fine.” Ethan holds his hand out to me.
I wrap my fingers around his. And I let him lead me down the hall, back the way we came, to the main entrance of the building.
My family members clamber behind us, running back into the office, gathering the items they left strewn around.
“Ethan.” I keep my voice low as I give his hand a tug. “I can—”
“We’ll talk on the plane.” His voice is just as low.
I want to tell him about the letter.
Explain myself.
Ask him why the heck he’d agree to marry a practical stranger, no questions asked.
But I keep my lips pressed together because I can hear footsteps approaching, and I know there’s no time.
Ethan looks over my head, back down the hall. “They really are awful. No wonder Jack only ever talked about you.”
Warmth spreads through my chest.
That isn’t exactly a compliment, since it’d be hard to be worse than them. But it’s still a nice thing to say. And a good reminder that Uncle Jack might’ve been out of line with this marriage request. But he still loved me.
I almost smile.
Then I remember I’m forcing an innocent man to marry a girl he doesn’t really know.
A girl who comes with horrible in-laws.
The almost smile disappears.
Ethan pulls his phone out of his pocket with his free hand. Then he flexes his fingers around mine. “Move your hand to my elbow.”
I glance up at him. “Huh?”
He lets go of my hand, then bends his arm. “Hold my elbow. I need both hands.”
I shift closer to Ethan. Then I reach up and hook my hand into the crook of his bent elbow.
I lean against his arm and watch him search for a chapel, then select walking directions for the closest option.
Fairytale Chapel.
Pulling the aviators off the top of my head, I slide them on.
We walked into this building less than thirty minutes ago. And now we’re about to walk out so we can get married at the Fairytale Chapel.
Fairytale.
I blink behind the dark lenses.
Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever get married. No particular reason why. I just haven’t really been lucky in the love department. So… I assumed.
But I’m a lover of dresses. And sparkly things. And love stories…
So even though I didn’t think I’d ever be walking down the aisle, I still imagined it.
What I’d wear.
What flowers I’d have.
The sort of man I’d marry.
I sneak a look at Ethan.
His boots match mine. Only his are functional. Broken in. And… huge.
But everything above that… we’re opposites.
He’s big and gruff and strong.
I’m short and soft and still working on being assertive.
Ethan slips his phone back into his pocket, having apparently memorized the directions. Then he reaches out and shoves the front door open, holding it so I can walk through ahead of him.
Releasing my hold of him, I do. And then I look back just in time to see him let go of the door after he steps through, not holding it for my approaching family.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
It would probably come out hysterical. And I’m afraid if I lose my composure now, I may never regain it.
Ethan glances down at me, then, as is becoming our habit, he holds his hand out, and I take it.
He dips his chin, and as the door reopens behind us, we descend the steps to the sidewalk.
We stay quiet as we retrace our steps and pass the parking ramp.
I have so many things I want to say. To ask. But Ethan is right, we can talk later.
After we get married.
I grip Ethan’s hand tighter as stress fills my body.
He’s being so cool about all this.
And I know we can just get a divorce. There was nothing in the letter about length of time.
I tighten my hold on Ethan’s hand even more when I remember that it did mention a time period.
It said I’d get the money on each birthday, over four years.
What if I need to be married for four years?
I can’t do that to Ethan.
Can’t make him give up four years of his life.
Maybe I can offer him a cut of the money.
I roll my lips together.
What amount of money would be appropriate? Ten percent? Fifty?
Am I supposed to let him date other people?
My stress turns to nausea.
I’ll do just about anything to keep this marriage legal if it means keeping Uncle Jack’s money out of the claws of my family. But the idea of watching Ethan date other people while pretending he cares about me… I don’t think I could do that.
Maybe I just need to be married? Maybe the person doesn’t matter?
I could divorce Ethan when he wants to break up and then find someone else to marry before my next birthday.
Ethan’s thumb drags against the back of my hand.
I look up at him.
“On the plane.”
As always, he can read me too easily.
I blow out a breath, then nod.
Ethan comes to a stop, and I stop beside him. In front of a light blue door under a pink neon sign that reads Fairytale Chapel.
“One last question.” Ethan keeps his voice low, just for me.
Internally, I brace myself.
Ethan lets go of my hand, then reaches up and carefully removes my sunglasses.
With the dark lenses gone, I’m sure he can see the worry in my eyes.
He turns the glasses around, then puts them on top of my head, how I had them before.
Then he holds my gaze.
It’s intense.
He’s intense.
But the longer I look into his dual-colored eyes, the calmer I feel.
And even though I don’t know him well, I trust him.
I can feel his trustworthiness.
He’s someone I can count on.
Maybe not to be my one and only forever and ever. But I can count on Ethan to do the right thing.
I can count on him to protect me against the feral herd behind us.
“What’s the question?”
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, sliding his grip down until our fingers are entwined again. “You okay with drive-thru burritos for our wedding lunch? We can eat them in the air.”
His words enter my mind slowly.
But as they register, my lips pull up into a smile. “Honestly? That sounds perfect.”
An elaborate plated dinner was my childhood fantasy. But burritos, in a plane, over the mountains, as we flee my family after a hasty Vegas wedding… not a bad second choice.
The blue door opens. And Dolly Parton steps out.
My eyes widen.
“You Matty and Ethan?” Her voice gets less confident as she looks between us.
And as I look at her, I realize I’m a doorknob and she’s a Dolly Parton look-alike.
Though with the way today is going, getting married by a superstar would hardly be the biggest surprise.
Then, like Ethan’s lunch question, Dolly’s sinks in.
Did she just ask for us by name?
Ethan and I look at each other, then back at Dolly.
I lift the hand not holding Ethan’s and wave. “I’m Matty.”
Dolly sighs. “Oh, a straight wedding. Okay.”
She couldn’t sound more disappointed. And I have to fight not to laugh.
“Wait.” Aunt Gunnie steps up right behind us. “I thought their wedding was scheduled for tomorrow.”
For once, Aunt Gunnie has something useful to point out. Because yes, the fake wedding I lied about was scheduled for tomorrow. At a nonexistent wedding chapel.
“Nope.” Dolly pops the p. “Today’s the day. And right on time.”
Uncle Jack.
“Jack,” Ethan huffs as I think about the same man.
We glance at each other again, and I’m glad he came to the same conclusion.
It would be easy for Ethan to pin this on me. Accuse me of setting it all up. For who-knows-what reason. But people have gotten angry at me over less.
The more Uncle Jack weaves his web, the more I wish I’d known him better.
I can’t imagine the emotions someone must go through when they choose to pass the way Uncle Jack did.
I can’t imagine approaching my death willingly and not being terrified.
But this…
I look around at the colorful interior of the small chapel as we follow Dolly inside.
This plan… This scheme that Uncle Jack put together…
I bet he was grinning.
I hope he was with someone he loved.
I hope they gave him peace.
But I bet Uncle Jack thought about this moment before he closed his eyes for the last time.
I bet he thought of me, on my wedding day, stunned and stressed and still going through with it. Because amassing that sort of money and giving it all to me, that was the biggest fuck you he ever could’ve landed on our family.
Humor and glee and sadness braid themselves around my heart.
But I still walk forward.
“No,” Ethan snaps, looking behind us. “The mother and the aunt. The rest of you wait outside.”
Glee grows inside my chest, and for this moment, I let it win. Because I can see it.
When Ethan yells at my family, I can see why Uncle Jack liked him so much.