Chapter 1
Chapter One
Kesha
Surely, I’m not the only woman who used to dream of her wedding day when she was a little girl?
I had this whole plan; my dress was going to be one of those slinky numbers that made my ass look amazing, then flared out to a mermaid skirt around my knees. I was going to carry white roses—I’ve always looked damn good in white—and wear a flower crown instead of a veil.
Yeah. It was going to be gorgeous.
But then.
But then life happened, yeah? I met a guy I liked, got pregnant, realized he wasn’t the kind of guy I wanted to deal with for the rest of my life, and I kicked him to the curb.
So that dream wedding? It never happened. My dreams changed—totally okay with it, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t trade Milo for all the white roses in the world.
It’s just that now, on my actual wedding day…
Well, I never expected to be escorted down the aisle by my ten-year-old son, with me wearing the only white dress—a strappy little sundress whose built-in-shelf bra was working overtime on my size-F boobs—I owned.
It wasn’t even a proper aisle, either, just a row of chairs set up on the beach, because Milo’s bestie always wanted his dad to have a sunset beach wedding. The fact that the kid planned it was impressive as hell, but—
“Kesha?”
I turned, wide-eyed, to my best friend, Jocelyn. Besides Milo, she was the only one here on Eastshore Isle on my side. She’d driven here just to support us, and—
“Honey, breathe,” she hissed, her eyes darting to Milo—whom she’d more or less helped raise these last ten years—as if to tell me not to freak him out. “You okay?”
No, I wasn’t okay. I was marrying a stranger and moving to a new place surrounded by my husband’s friends, and the sun was setting and the music was starting and everything was going a little black—
Oh. That was likely because of the lack of oxygen.
I sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and groped for Joss’s hand. She squeezed it as she turned to call Milo down from the dunes. In a daze, I helped remind him what was expected of him tonight, and frankly, I was glad for the distraction.
Anything to stop me from dwelling on what was about to happen.
I was going to marry Korrad, a complete stranger, just because our sons were best friends.
And because the healthcare policy he has will cover Milo’s therapy, and the school here on the island is exactly what Milo needs, and this stability will be a lot healthier for him than scrambling to make rent each month.
Milo.
The reminder of why I was doing this made it a little easier to breathe.
Yeah, I would do anything to make sure my son has a better future, and marrying an incredibly hot single father wasn’t a hardship at all.
When he’d suggested it, all those weeks ago over text, I’d thought he was bonkers. But his arguments were compelling, and I’d found myself slowly coming around. I still didn’t understand what Korrad got out of this marriage, but I couldn’t deny Milo was going to win at life with this move.
And that was enough.
“You’re marrying an orc?” Joss hissed as she stepped around the dunes when her music cue rose. I barely saw her stumble toward the aisle, because I was distracted by…well, by my wedding.
Dammit, I’d forgotten to breathe again, my gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd. They weren’t all orcs, but yeah, it was clear that Korrad had quite the group of friends.
I’d known Milo’s best friend was an orc, of course, since the two of them had become so close online. So it hadn’t been a surprise to meet Korrad that afternoon.
Well, maybe it had a bit.
I hadn’t expected him to be so hot.
And there he was, waiting for me under the arbor Jay had put together, his twin brother at his side. Jay—I still couldn’t believe the kid planned all this—was glancing anxiously between me and his father, holding a clipboard and a smartphone, and when I nodded firmly, he looked a little relieved.
Then he punched something on the phone, and Pachelbel’s Canon swept across the beach, and I took my son’s hand.
“Come on, Milo. Let’s go meet your new father.”
I was proud of the way my voice didn’t betray my inner monologue, which was currently Oh-shit-what-are-you-doing?
as loud as possible. Instead, my chin went up, my back straightened, and I marched across the sand in the way Kesha Briley had always met her problems: head-on, with more than a little sass.
I was going to marry this stranger for my son’s sake.
Again, I was thankful for Milo’s distraction; I was so focused on his good behavior—Please don’t make a bad first impression, please don’t make a bad first impression!
—that I was down the aisle before I had a chance to consider that all these guests I didn’t know were staring at me.
They were all smiling, but I was too busy gripping Milo’s hand and praying he remembered the plan to acknowledge it.
Then I was there, under the plumeria-and-sea-holly-arbor, and Milo was grinning up at me. He squeezed my hand once—was he comforting me?—and scampered off to stand beside Jay, as we’d discussed.
And I was turning to Korrad, reaching for his hands as the officiant prompted…
Oh.
When his huge green hands, the claws retracted from the tips of his fingers, closed around mine, I sucked in a breath at the warm tingle, and my gaze slammed upward to his.
Korrad’s eyes were as dark as mine, but somehow…warm? Could eyes be cozy?
No, that was dumb.
I’d spent the last decade as a copy editor of fiction, and if one of my authors tried to describe eyes as cozy, I would insert a snarky comment about adjective usage.
But…cozy was the only way I could think of to describe Korrad’s eyes in that moment. Or maybe that’s how they made me feel? Staring up at them, I felt myself exhaling, then inhaling slowly again…my breathing was matching his, wasn’t it?
When I realized that, I felt myself warming, relaxing…
And then he smiled.
Oh.
Oh wow.
Korrad was handsome enough—I mean, when he wasn’t smiling. He had this full beard that seemed to go with his trending-toward-a-Dad-Bod physique, and his tusks were starkly white against the dark hair. I hadn’t thought I was a fan of beards until I’d met him this afternoon.
But when he smiled?
The flash of white beneath that beard? The way his eyes crinkled?
Oh wow.
Suddenly, it was a little difficult to breathe again.
His hands tightened around mine, that smile turning soft. The officiant—I think Jay had said this tall orc in a suit was the mayor?—was droning on about something, but I couldn’t seem to drag my attention away from Korrad, even to check on Milo.
I just had to trust he was safe with Jay.
I just had to trust I was safe with Korrad.
There was a hell of a lot of trust going on here, especially for someone who’d spent the last decade struggling to keep our heads above water despite all the shit the world threw at us.
But here, holding Korrad’s hands…I had to trust.
It was, quite honestly, the only option.
He’ll keep us safe.
How could he not? He was easily a foot taller than me, and big enough to envelop Milo and me both. But just like this afternoon when I’d met him for the first time, Korrad’s size didn’t intimidate me. Rather, it reassured me.
I still couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“Repeat after me,” came the rumble from my side, and I startled, glancing over at the mayor, who was looking at Korrad. “I, Korrad of Eastshore, take you, Kesha Briley, to be my wife.”
I glanced back in time to see Korrad’s face smooth from that smile. “I, Korrad of Eastshore, take you, Kesha Briley, to be my wife.”
“In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health…”
Korrad’s voice dropped to a mere murmur. “In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.”
The mayor continued. “I promise to be your partner, father to our children, for as long as we both live.”
Was it my imagination, or did Korrad hesitate slightly? He took a deep breath, his expression suddenly difficult to read.
“I promise to be your partner, father to our children…for as long as…” He took another deep breath. “For as long as we both live.”
I didn’t frown. I didn’t frown, because it was my wedding day, dammit, and I’d spent a half hour on my makeup, but what the hell was that? Was Korrad having second thoughts? Should I be having second thoughts? Or rather, fourth or fifth thoughts?
I glanced at Jocelyn to see if she’d noticed the groom’s hesitation, but to my surprise, she was staring at Korrad’s twin brother and looking pale A.F. No help there, I guess.
Then Korrad squeezed my hands again, and I looked back at him… The smile was gone, but I could read relief in his eyes. At least he hadn’t gone all stoic for long.
Did he want to marry me? Did he? He’d said he did, and this had been his idea in the first place, right? But what did he get out of this? Milo and I got safety, protection, care, and belonging, and Korrad was just getting two more headaches.
You can’t walk away. Not now. Not when Milo is so close to having a future.
Right.
Marrying Korrad would bring my son everything he deserved in life.
Weighed against that, what was a little hesitation? From either of us? I needed to do this. For Milo.
And in that moment, I realized something else: If Korrad wasn’t sure about this marriage, then it was up to me to make him certain. He’d said he wouldn’t expect anything from me, but if he did, I would make it happen.
Standing there at the altar, holding his hands, I vowed silently to myself to be the best damn wife he could imagine. I would make sure he never hesitated again.
So I took a deep breath, met his eyes, and repeated after the officiant:
“I, Kesha Briley, take you, Korrad of Eastshore, to be my husband. In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I promise to be your partner, mother to our children, for as long as we both live.”
My voice rang out over the crowd, louder than Korrad’s, and I kept my chin up, willing him to see the certainty I didn’t feel.
Willing them all to see it.
Milo, Jay, Jocelyn. The gathered guests, the officiant. All of them.
Let them see that I was going to make this work. For my son.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure Korrad bought it.
His eyes had wrinkled at the corners again, but he wasn’t grinning. It was more like he was searching my expression for the truth. Dammit.
So I tried a smile.
It might have worked, too, had the officiant not, at that exact moment, said, “Then you may kiss.”
And my mind stuttered.
Kiss?
Kiss?
How the hell had I forgotten that part of the wedding ceremony?
All my Barbie ceremonies had included that when I was a little girl—you may kiss the bride.
I remembered sitting cross-legged on my grandmother’s floor when she babysat me, knocking my Barbie dolls’ faces against each other and making wet smacking noises, my approximation of the kisses I’d seen in movies.
You may kiss.
May I?
I stood staring up at Korrad like an idiot, and thank God he seemed to understand what was going on better than I did.
Because with only a little hesitation, he pulled one hand free of mine and reached for me. When his fingertips slid across my jaw to cup the side of my neck, the pad of his thumb resting against my cheekbone, I straight-up shivered. Didn’t even bother trying to hide it, I shivered.
And I was pretty sure it was in anticipation.
Then he was bending down toward me, and I realized I was pressing up on my sandaled toes to meet him…
When Korrad’s lips met mine, something slid into place.
That certainty I’d been missing.
Because the warmth, the spark, the shiver I’d felt at his earlier touches? Nothing compared to his kiss. There wasn’t even tongue; just his lips—somehow rough and soft?—pressed gently against mine, his exhale brushing my cheek, his beard tickling my skin…
Pretty sure I breathed a sigh into his mouth, and I felt his lips curl upward just slightly.
Oh.
And then it was over, and he was pulling back…and I tried to follow, stretching up after him enough that he returned for one last brush of his lips against mine, before I had to acknowledge it was done and I was embarrassing myself.
I felt my cheeks heating as I sank back down to stand in the sand, my breathing erratic, my body confused as hell about that kiss.
There was some cheering happening, but I could only stare, wide-eyed, at the button in the middle of Korrad’s shirt and wonder what the hell had happened.
Because he’d made it clear this marriage was just a legal thing to help our sons, and he didn’t expect a physical relationship.
Hell, that’s what most of our conversations had been these last two weeks; hashing out expectations for a future together.
It had been awkward but necessary, and I remembered his words clearly.
You don’t owe me anything, Kesha. I don’t want you to think you have to—to share my bed. Jay and I decided you and Milo can share a room until he’s comfortable moving in with Jay, and then you can have your own space.
At the time, I’d thought it incredibly sweet.
Here was this dude who was bending his life into pretzels for us, and he had the emotional maturity to consider what would make me feel comfortable? I’d been impressed, and it had been another vote of confidence in the Marrying Korrad tally.
Now, though?
After that kiss?
Well, let’s just say that I was standing there, pissed as hell at Past Kesha for agreeing so easily to separate beds. Because I didn’t mind at all the thought of taking all my clothes off and crawling into bed with Korrad and showing him exactly how grateful I was to him…
Try to contain your libido, girl. For your own dignity. You start thinking like that, and you’re basically trading sex for security, and you promised Mama long ago that you wouldn’t do that.
Right.
Right. This marriage was…a convenient arrangement, nothing more.
And I needed to remember that.
The deep breath I took was shuddering, and I couldn’t help the way I pressed my cheek against Korrad’s palm just briefly before I pulled away with a shaky smile.
His gaze was on me when the officiant said, “By the power vested in me as the mayor of Eastshore Isle, and this handy certificate I got from the internet, I can now pronounce you husband and wife.”
And because of that, I was sure Korrad saw the way my breath caught, and my eyes widened as the cheering erupted behind us.
I heard Jay’s whoop, and Milo’s adolescent cheers…and unexpectedly, my eyes flooded with tears.
Husband and wife.
I was…I was married?