Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Galeana
Monday morning starts like any other—me, pacing my kitchen with a coffee mug that’s gone cold and the overwhelming sense that I’m already behind on a to-do list I haven’t even written. The last time I organized a wedding it took me two years and Mom had helped me with it. Today I don’t even know if my favorite flowers are daisies or if I can get ahold of some roses.
The clock says it’s 9:15, which means I’ve already wasted forty-five minutes of precious “pretending to have my life together” time.
Then the doorbell rings.
I frown, setting my mug on the massive marble island, the sound clinking through the too-large kitchen. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and in Birchwood Springs, surprise visitors usually mean bad news—Ledger—or yet another casserole. I have twenty-three in the freezer.
I pad toward the front door, yank it open, and blink at the two impeccably dressed people standing there like they stepped out of an issue of Town & Country .
The woman in front flashes a bright smile—friendly but a little too practiced. She’s petite and well-dressed in a cream blazer and modest heels, polished just enough to look put-together without trying too hard. Behind her stands a man in his late forties or early fifties, his sharp blue eyes framed by neatly styled light brown hair streaked with gray. He wears an impeccable tailored suit with the ease of someone accustomed to importance.
“Galeana Monroe?” the woman says, tilting her head in a way that makes her pearl earrings catch the morning sunlight.
“Yes?” I say cautiously, gripping the door just in case I need to slam it shut.
“I’m Teddy St. James-Bradley, owner of TPSJ Life Concierge,” she announces brightly, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “I was hired to help with your wedding next Saturday.”
“My what?”
“Your wedding,” she repeats, like I’m hard of hearing. “I’ve been briefed on all the basics. We’re here to handle the details—venues, decor, catering, all of it—so you don’t have to.”
Before I can form a response, the man behind her clears his throat. “Fitzhenry Everhart,” he says smoothly, holding up the briefcase. “I’m your lawyer. Here to go over the details of your prenuptial agreement.”
I stare at them, my brain grinding to a full stop. Teddy, was it Bradley or St. James? A lawyer with a name that sounds like she was born holding a monogrammed handkerchief?
This has Ledger written all over it. I mean no one else knows I’m getting married but the groom.
“Excuse me one second,” I say, forcing a tight smile. I close the door—not all the way, but enough to let them know they’re not invited inside yet—and grab my phone.
Ledger picks up after the third ring, his voice low and gravelly like I just woke him up. “Morning, future Mrs. Timberbridge. Miss me already? I knew not calling you yesterday would be the thing that will make you more interested in your future husband.”
“Why the fuck is there a concierge ready to organize my wedding and a guy calling himself my lawyer at my door right now?” I demand, my voice rising as I pace the entryway.
“You’re welcome,” he replies lazily.
“Welcome?” I practically shriek. “Ledger, she runs a concierge company. I don’t need a team of people planning my wedding—I just need it to happen so my grandfather’s misogynistic clause doesn’t ruin the livelihood of everyone in the world.”
“It’s just the economy of New England,” he corrects me.
“Same thing, Ledger. Why are these people at my doorstep? This is a small wedding with just a few guests and not . . . why are they here?”
There’s a beat of silence before he speaks, “Galeana, you’re forgetting something important.”
“What?”
“You’re in a small town,” he says, his tone full of infuriating patience, like he’s explaining basic math to a toddler. “People expect a lot more from Dante Doherty’s granddaughter. You can’t pull off a quick courthouse wedding without the entire town turning up with pitchforks—or casseroles, depending on their mood. We’re doing this properly.”
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Properly? Ledger, I don’t need some Pinterest-perfect wedding. It’s fake.”
“I can make fake seem real,” Teddy says from the other side of the door. “Your perfect dream wedding.”
“She knows?” I growl.
“My brother . . . he knows people and has to be upfront with what we require. Though, they’re very discreet,” he assures me. “When I told him about our wedding he thought it’d be important to pull this off. You have to remember that it’s not fake to the townies. Trust me on this, darling. You don’t want to give the town any more reason to doubt you.”
“Trust you?” I echo, my voice dripping with disbelief. “You ambushed me with an entire team of strangers.”
“My team won’t be here until tomorrow,” Teddy says.
“Stop butting into the conversation,” the lawyer argues. “Didn’t I say this was a bad idea? You can’t just throw something like this on a person without an explanation.”
“You did, but Seth and Finn thought it’d be sensible,” she says.
Now I’m more confused than ever. Before I can kick them off the property Ledger says, “Galeana, you don’t have time to organize a wedding—a big wedding for that matter. I hired people to do it for you. Just let them do their thing. It’ll be painless. Well, mostly painless. Call me if you need me.”
“Ledger—”
“Have a great day, wife.” He hangs up, leaving me fuming in the middle of the entryway.
I take a deep breath, plaster on what I hope is a polite smile, and reopen the door. Teddy and Fitz are still standing there, both looking calm and unbothered, which somehow makes me more irritated.
“Sorry about that,” I say tightly, stepping aside. “I really don’t need you. Plus, I can’t pay for your services.”
At least I can’t yet. I won’t get any of the money until I have the marriage certificate in hand.
“Ledger Timberbridge will be paying for everything,” Teddy says.
Somehow when she says that I feel like I could just spend millions on this frivolous thing and teach him a lesson. “Come in.”
Teddy is a whirlwind. Within minutes, she’s set up shop at my dining room table, her iPad already open and stylus tapping away.
“I’ll need to confirm your guest list,” she says, flipping through what I assume are mock-up mood boards. “Ledger gave me a general idea of numbers, but we’ll finalize it together. I’m thinking something elegant and understated—timeless, really. Have you chosen your flowers yet?”
“Flowers?” I repeat blankly, already overwhelmed.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a wave of her hand. “We’ll sort that out today.”
Fitz, meanwhile, sits quietly at the far end of the table, pulling out stacks of paperwork that look far too official for a fake wedding.
“This is the preliminary draft of the prenup,” he says smoothly, sliding the papers toward me. “Ledger asked me to make sure it’s airtight, in accordance with your stipulations. Full separation of assets, no claim to the company, and no financial involvement post-dissolution.”
I stare at him. “You make it sound like I’m hiring him as a temp worker.”
Fitz’s lips twitch in what might’ve been a smile. “It’s a very thorough agreement.”
“Good,” I say, flipping through the first few pages. “It’ll need to be. I want Ledger completely cut out of Maple Haven. No loopholes, no claims. We get married, pretend to be happy, and we’re done.”
“Understood.” Fitz nods, his pen gliding across a notepad as he jots down my edits. “You of course are not going to be able to touch his assets either.”
“That’s totally fine,” I say because this isn’t about taking anything from him. Just . . . benefits.
“There is a contract where it stipulates that you two will have sex at least twice a day,” he continues.
“A what?” I almost choke on my own saliva. “He added that?”
“Yep. He won’t sign the prenup or the marriage certificate until you sign this one.”
“That’s—”
“The only thing he’s asking in exchange for this favor,” he says. “You could call him and just cancel the deal.”
“No, I’ll sign the stupid stipulation.”
Teddy, meanwhile, is already rattling off options for table linens and catering services, her energy borderline exhausting.
“What about the cake?” she asks, tapping her stylus against her iPad.
“The cake’s covered,” I say quickly. “My best friend Aiden is a baker. She’ll make it.”
Teddy blinks. “Your best friend? Are you sure she’ll have time? Wedding cakes are quite labor-intensive.”
“She’s the best baker I know,” I reply firmly. “And she’s already on board. She’ll also be my maid of honor.”
“Very well,” Teddy says, though she looks like she’s making a mental note to keep a backup bakery on speed dial. “How about her dress? Can you send me her measurements so I can have the maid of honor dress ready for her? Let me know if you need me to book her flight to town. We can take care of that too. The groom will cover those expenses.”
“Yes, please. I’ll give you a list of what she needs,” I say, not adding since the groom is paying.
The morning flies by in a blur of fabric swatches, seating charts, and floral arrangements. By the time Teddy shows me a picture of a sleek white wedding dress—simple, elegant, with delicate lace—I’m too tired to argue.
“The seamstress will arrive tomorrow for your fitting,” she says with a satisfied smile, tapping a note into her iPad. “You’ll look stunning.”
“Great,” I mutter, feeling like I’ve just been bulldozed.
As Teddy and Fitz pack up, I collapse onto the couch, my head spinning. This is spiraling faster than I can keep up with. I’m getting married in four days, to a man who makes my blood boil and who somehow thinks I need a Pinterest-worthy wedding to seal the deal.
But as I glance at the prenup on the table, one thought keeps running through my mind.
This isn’t just for me. This is for my mom. For her legacy.
Ledger Timberbridge might drive me crazy, but I’m not backing down. I’ll walk down that aisle, sign the papers, and spend one year married to the world’s most irritating man.
And then?
I’ll take Maple Haven.
Ledger’s smug face flashes in my mind, his voice teasing as he said, “Spouses with benefits, darling.”
I groan into my hands. This is going to be the longest year of my life.