Chapter Twenty
Brody
We don’t need six months of floral arrangements, place cards, or seating charts. What we need is a marriage certificate, a judge, and the people who actually matter.
When we broke the news to Molly the next morning, she nearly fainted into her espresso.
“A courthouse marriage in three days?” Molly gasps, her voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling of our kitchen.
She throws her hands up, her diamond rings catching in the light.
“Ellis, darling. You’re a Renwick. Renwick’s don’t get married in a municipal building like we’re settling a traffic ticket.
People spend years on a waiting list just to get our family’s florist.”
“Mom,” Ellis says calmly, sitting at the island in one of my oversized flannels, sipping her decaf tea. “We aren’t doing a spectacle right now. We want to be married before the baby gets here.”
“But what will people say?” Molly asks dramatically, clutching her chest.
“I don’t really care what people say, Mother. I’m hugely pregnant, and I just want to marry the man I love.”
Molly pauses, narrowing her eyes at me as I pour her another cup of coffee. “Brody, tell me you aren’t rushing this because of something in your football schedule. All it would take is one call to the Grants.”
“No, Molly,” I say with a quiet laugh, setting the mug in front of her. “I just really want her to be my wife.”
Molly looks at me, her dramatic posture softening into a warm smile.
She lets out a long sigh. “Fine, but I’m extracting a blood oath from both of you for a full, extravagant, ridiculously expensive reception after the baby is born.
I want ice sculptures. I want a six-tier cake.
I want your father to cry in public so I can tape it. ”
“Deal,” Ellis says instantly.
“Good,” Molly says, perking up and pulling out her phone. “Now move aside. If I only have seventy-two hours to make a courthouse hallway look like a Vogue cover, I need to threaten a few event coordinators.”
And just like that, seventy-two hours later, we not only had a freshly signed legal contract with Dylan, but we were also standing in the private garden conservatory attached to the Bergen County historical Chapel.
Molly hadn’t managed the ice sculpture, but she had somehow convinced the township to shut down the entire private courtyard and blanket the stone archway with hundreds of white roses.
The area is small, warm, and packed with the only people who hold a piece of our lives. And of course, our dogs.
On Ellis’s side, Charles stands quietly in a tailored suit, his arms crossed, watching the room with a rare settled approval. Bryan stands beside him, leaning against a stone pillar, and tosses me a nod.
On my side, my mom is already dabbing her eyes with a tissue before the music has even started, her hand clutching my sister’s arm. Lauren gives me a sharp, proud wink, whispering Don’t mess up your vows, buddy.
The rest of the room is a chaotic, beautiful mess of our inner circle.
Liam and Alie try to wrangle their daughter, Sera, who is almost always full of energy and is currently chasing Saint and Presley’s kids, Remy and Rhyan, and our dogs around.
Aston and Eva stand beside them. Aston leans in to whisper something in Eva’s ear that makes her cover her mouth to hide her laugh.
The judge, a soft-spoken woman, clears her throat, holding her leather-bound ledger.
Then the side door opens, and everything else in the world simply stops. Ellis chose to walk to me for this ceremony, but she’ll have her father-daughter dance at our reception after the baby is born.
Ellis walks towards me. She isn’t wearing a massive ball gown or a long train.
She wears a simple, elegant off-the-shoulder silk dress that hugs every curve of her body, highlighting the gorgeous curve of her eight-month bump.
Her dark hair is pinned, packed with diamond clips, and her eyes are clear, bright, and fixed entirely on me.
My chest tightens so hard I almost forget to exhale.
When she reaches the altar, I take her hand. Her fingers are warm, steady, and small in mine.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice rough.
“Look at us,” she whispers back, a radiant smile breaking across her face.
The judge steps forward to begin the ceremony. “We are gathered here today in the presence of family and cherished friends to join Brody and Ellis in holy matrimony.”
Molly, sitting in the front row, leans over toward my mother and whispers loudly enough for the entire front row to hear. “I gave them seventy-two hours, June, and look at this. Married! And just look at them. Your boy can command a football field and also look like a GQ model. I knew I liked him.”
A quiet ripple of laughter runs through the crowd. Charles clears his throat, but even he can’t hide the faint smirk at his lips.
“Brody,” the judge turns to me. “You both requested to keep the ceremony short, so we’ll start with your vows.”
I don’t pull out a piece of paper. Instead, I take both of Ellis’s hands in mine and look straight into her eyes.
“Ellis,” I say, my voice deep and unwavering.
“I didn’t fall in love with you in a quiet moment.
I fell in love with you while our world was loud and complicated and throwing everything it had at us.
You showed me what strength actually looks like.
You gave me a home, you gave me your trust, and you gave me our son.
I promise to stand in front of you when the storm gets bad, and to stand beside you every single day, making sure you and our boy never feel alone. ”
Ellis lets out a soft, shaky breath, a tear slipping down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away. She just squeezes my hands tighter.
“Ellis,” the judge says softly.
Ellis takes a deliberate breath, her voice clear, confident, and ringing with pure authority.
“Brody, I spent my whole life managing risk, controlling outcomes, and keeping people at a distance, and then you walked into my life with a hard-headed giant heart and an absolute refusal to let me handle things by myself. You taught me that being safe doesn’t mean building walls.
It means finding a person who holds the door open.
I love you. I love the father you already are.
I love the man you are, and I’m so proud to be your wife. ”
“Would either of you like to add anything else?”
We both shake our heads, eyes still locked on each other.
“Okay then. By the power invested in me,” the judge smiles warmly, closing her ledger. “I now pronounce you husband and wife! Brody, you make us your bride.”
I don’t wait. I pull Ellis into my arms, covering the back of her head with my hands as I bring her mouth to mine.
Our friends and family are wrapped around us.
Liam lets out a deafening whistle, and my sister yells finally over the noise. My mom openly weeps into her handkerchief, while Molly aggressively claps her hands, turning to Charles with an unmistakable I-told-you-so look.
When I pull back, Ellis laughs, her hands resting against my suit jacket, the sparkling oval diamond on her left hand catching the light alongside her brand-new platinum wedding band.
“How does it feel, Mrs. Vaughn?” I ask, pulling her against my chest, my hand resting over our baby, who’s kicking wildly against my palm.
Ellis leans up on her toes and presses a soft, lingering kiss against my jaw. “It feels like we just won the Super Bowl.”
By nine o’clock that evening, the noise of the world had completely faded away.
We had cut a small cake at the restaurant, toasted with sparkling cider, and said our goodbyes to our families and friends. Our drive back to Alpine has been quiet; the only noise in the car is the soft rustle of silk and the quiet hum of the air conditioner coming from the vents.
Now, inside our master suite, the only light comes from the warm glow of the lamp on the nightstand. The dogs are sound asleep downstairs, exhausted from the afternoon’s excitement.
I stand near the corner of the bed, having already stripped off my suit, jacket, and tie, wearing only my white undershirt and boxers. I watch my wife step out of the bathroom.
She’s unpinned her hair, letting her thick dark waves spill over her bare shoulders.
She’s removed the silk dress and replaced it with a soft lace robe that ties loosely above the high, rounded swell of her belly.
Her skin looks golden in the light, flushed and radiant.
The platinum band on her left ring finger catches the light every time she moves her hand.
She doesn’t look tired, like she should. Instead, she looks focused and thoroughly dangerous.
“You’re staring, husband,” she murmurs, walking slowly across the room toward me, her bare feet making zero sound on the rug.
“I’m looking at my wife,” I say, my voice dropping an octave, the low baritone reverberating in the quiet room. “I’m allowed.”
Ellis stops right in front of me, reaching out to lay both of her hands flat against my chest. Her fingers spread over the tight cotton of my undershirt, feeling my heartbeat underneath.
“Mrs. Vaughan,” she tests the words on her lips, her eyes lacking onto mine with an intensity that makes my throat go dry. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“It fits you,” I whisper, reaching out to wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her gently into my space. I keep my touch soft, my palm anchored firmly against the small of her back. “Everything about you fits here. With me.”
She leans in, tilts her head up, and presses her mouth against mine.
It’s not a polite kiss, it's deep, possessive and thick with heat. Her tongue slides against mine, tasting like her mint toothpaste, then her hand moves up my chest to grip the fabric at my shoulders. I groan into her mouth, my grip tightening on her waist as I pull her closer.
When she pulls back, her breath is coming in shallow hitches, her cheeks flushed crimson. “Brody…”
“I’ve got you.” I rub my thumb along the swell of her lower lip. “Are you tired? We had a long day.”