Chapter 9 #2
Is he flirting with me? Probably not. But even if he is, that doesn’t mean it means anything. Louisiana boys are notorious flirts. It’s something in the water that creates men who love spicy gumbo, duck hunting, and flirting with any woman who will stand still long enough.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Downstairs, we do indeed acquire our license in record time.
Dawn is a sixty-something Cajun woman with an accent so thick I can barely understand her, but she and Grammercy slip into Creole with ease.
Ten minutes later, we’re back upstairs with our license, waiting on the firm seats outside the judge’s chambers while the couple in front of us says their vows behind the closed door .
Not many people are getting married on this sunny Monday afternoon in October.
Married.
We’re getting married, literally any minute now.
I lean over, hissing beneath my breath, “Are you sure you don’t want a prenup? I really don’t mind. We could postpone the ceremony for a few days and?—”
“No need,” he cuts in with a grin. “I’m not worried about it.
I trust you.” His expression sobers as he adds, “How about you? Is there something more you need to feel you can trust what we have planned? If so, I’m happy to wait and get that in writing.
Though I know we both don’t like the idea of Mimi being uninsured, even for a day or two. ”
I look up into his dark eyes, completely dumbfounded. This man is completely upending his life to help me and my sick little girl, and he’s asking if I trust him ? And offering to put whatever I need in writing?
“You’re something else, Grammercy Graves,” I murmur, meaning it.
“In the good way, I hope,” he says, his gaze locked on mine, making my pulse beat faster.
“In a very good way,” I say. “If I didn’t know your backstory, it would be hard to believe you’re real. But any man who spends his first paycheck with the NHL to buy his mama a nice place to live is a real one in my book.”
“And any mama who sleeps on the couch so her kiddo can have her own room is a real one in mine,” he says.
Silence falls between us as we stare into the very hearts of each other.
For a moment, all the artifice and social graces are gone, and we’re just two people who haven’t walked the easiest road.
People who have faced harder times than most, and had to grow up way faster than our peers, but who have chosen to let our struggles make us kind instead of bitter.
Determined instead of defeated.
Hopeful instead of hard.
This man…might actually be my soulmate, I realize. For real.
The thought barely has time to land—and turn my stomach inside out—when the couple in front of us exits the judge’s chambers, grinning ear to ear.
“Ready?” Grammercy whispers, taking my hand.
I nod, curling my fingers around his warm, dry palm. “I am.”
And I do…
Our vows are quick, but beautiful. Judge Renault, a solid black man with gray in his beard and kind eyes, does the honors while his clerk, a grinning redhead in a lightly-wrinkled pantsuit, observes.
Grammercy and I both say our parts, and then, the judge murmurs, “By the power vested in me by the state of Louisiana, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He shoots us a big grin. “You may kiss the bride, son.”
Then, like something from a dream, Grammercy turns, drawing me against him, and the world disappears.
His palm comes to my face, cradling my jaw like I’m something precious he never wants to lose. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, and I forget how to breathe. And then he dips his lips to mine and?—
Oh.
Oh my…
This man is magic on the ice, but his kiss? This kiss? It’s axis-tilting, life-changing. Grammercy Grave’s lips are fresh air, cool water on a hot day, a poem written just for me.
He tastes like mint and salt and hope, and when he deepens the kiss, I melt into him like a flower tilting to the sun.
My hands slide up his chest to tangle in his hair—thick, silky, and perfect, just like him—and he makes a happy sound low in his throat, making me think he’s feeling the moment, too.
The moment and the magic…
Time slows to honey-thick sweetness, until there’s nothing but his mouth on mine, his strong, solid body, and the racing of my heart. And bliss. So much bliss. I’m dizzy with it, overwhelmed by how good this is, how right, how I never want it to stop.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and shaken.
But in a good way.
Because now I know that it’s real. Kisses that turn the world upside down are real, and one of the men capable of giving them is now my husband.
WTAF.
“We did it,” I whisper.
His lips curve in a soft smile. “We sure did.”
His hand is still on my cheek, my lips are tingling, and the glowing, molten heat in my chest is probably visible from space. I don’t know how long we would have stood there, marveling, if the judge’s clerk hadn’t cleared her throat.
We both startle before turning to face the redhead standing beside us.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the judge is due in court in ten minutes, and we’ll need you to sign this before we go.” She hands us our marriage certificate with a giddy grin. “But congratulations! I’m sure you two are going to be very happy together. You’re both just lovely people, I can tell.”
“We can always tell,” the judge agrees. “You’re going to do just fine, Mr. and Mrs. Graves.”
Mrs. Graves. I’m Mrs. Graves now.
Holy shit.
We sign the paperwork in a daze, and before I know it, we’re back in the courthouse lobby, officially married and saying goodbye.
But only until tonight…
Grammercy is coming by our place after his afternoon team meeting to help us pack so we can be ready to move into his place tomorrow.
“See you at six,” he says, squeezing my hand outside on the courthouse steps. “I’ll bring pizza and salad so we don’t have to worry about dinner.”
“Thank you, Mimi will be so happy. She loves pizza.”
“I remembered that,” he says. “That’s why I ordered it. Hope she likes pepperoni?”
“She loves it. It’s her favorite.” I clutch the marriage certificate in my other hand, this evidence that what happened wasn’t a dream.
“I promise we won’t work you too hard. I found boxes behind the grocery store this morning and already packed a few things.
Honestly, we don’t have that much stuff aside from Mimi’s art supplies and ten thousand stuffed animals. ”
“I’m not worried. I like packing.” He grins as he adds, “Though I like unpacking better. There’s something exciting about fresh walls and a fresh start.”
I nod. “There is. I’m excited. And thank you again for…everything. ”
But mostly for that kiss , I think. I’ve always wanted to know if all those romance novel kisses were based on any kind of reality.
Now, I know they are.
Now, I’ve been kissed like that at least once, and for that, I’ll always be grateful to you, you crazy, beautiful, perfect, incredible man.
He starts down the steps, but stops and turns back after a beat. “Oh, and don’t freak out if your surprise gets there before I do, okay? Coach likes to talk, so I might be there a little after six, and the surprise is supposed to get there at six on the dot.”
“Surprise? What kind of surprise?” I call after him, but he’s already at the base of the steps, headed for the parking garage.
“Gotta run or I’ll be late, beautiful,” he calls back. “See you later.” And then he’s gone, jogging across the pavement in front of the building.
I stand watching him from the top of the steps for a moment, fingers drifting to my lips, where the ghost of his kiss still lingers.
I just kissed Grammercy Graves, and it was better than any fantasy. And tonight, he’s coming over to help me pack my things so I can move in with him. And he’s ordered pizza because he remembered my daughter loves it and planned some kind of surprise…
How is this my life?
Just a few days ago, I was Elly Thibodeaux, a woman who’d never even met one of her NHL heroes in real life. Now I’m married to the sexiest player in the league, the man I’ve been secretly crushing on for three years, and my lips are still tingling from our first kiss.
The wildness of that fact is still almost too much to handle. I’ve spent the two years since I started my podcast analyzing hockey relationships, offering commentary and advice about players and their romantic lives.
Now, I’m living it.
And I’ve got the marriage certificate and the “kiss the bride” tingle on my lips to prove it.