Chapter 6
six
MARILEE
Today is my wedding day.
Again.
But this feels nothing like that did. Back then, at the tender age of nineteen—ten whole years ago—I pretended to be sure. Convinced myself I was. Ignored any concern that any friends or my mom expressed. I just figured they didn’t understand the love Donny and I shared.
Turns out, what we had wasn’t love. It was control.
But this? Helping Jordan, my best friend in the world, who would never do anything to hurt me?
Today is about love.
Maybe it’s platonic love, but love all the same. And it’s my decision to make.
Which is why, if Lucy asks me if I’m sure one more time, I might scream.
“Don’t.” As I exit my closet wearing a strappy lavender dress that’s probably more appropriate for summertime, I hold my finger up to my sister-in-law’s mouth, which is opening—I’m positive— to repeat the question that’s been part of every conversation we’ve had for the last four days since I told her about my decision to marry Jordan for a year.
She’s sitting against the headboard of my bed, her blonde hair down for once, a hand on her stomach, which is still flat despite growing my niece or nephew. Her color is a bit better today, though I think she’s only consumed a few crackers and some ginger ale. “But?—”
“But nothing. Yes, I’m sure about marrying him. What I’m not sure about is this dress.” As I turn a one-eighty, the skirt flares out a bit. “Thoughts?” I study my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my door.
“You look gorgeous as always.”
I glance over my shoulder. “But?”
“But it looks like something you’d wear to church or out to dinner, not to get married in.” Lucy takes the end of her hair and plays with it—a sure sign she’s got more to say but is nervous about doing so. “And look, obviously I’m not weirded out that you’re sort of eloping. I mean, Blake and I did. But that was different.” She sighs. “Mare…”
“Lucy, we’ve been over this.” I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle the skirt. “I know you’re worried about me, but marrying Jordan will be a win-win for all of us. You and Blake will get some alone time?—”
“Which is never something we wanted, you know.” She tugs on her hair, and ouch, how does that not hurt? “I hope you’re not doing this for us.”
“Of course not. But I was already thinking about moving out to give you guys some space.”
“That kills me. You know you’re my best friend.”
“I know. And I love you. I love my brother too. But you guys deserve to have your own place. You’re married now. And soon, I will be too.” I glance at the clock on my bedside table. Shoot. “In less than an hour, to be precise. I really need to decide what to wear.”
Of course, that’s me—Ms. Procrastination. Hopping back up, I head into my closet again, searching for something, anything, that will make me feel pretty.
My hand hovers over a green silk dress I usually reserve for Christmas parties. Wait. Why do I care about being pretty?
I don’t. I mean, not for Jordan’s sake. He’s seen me without a stitch of makeup and also with all of my makeup smudged from hours of crying. In flannel pants and a baggy shirt. He doesn’t care what I look like.
But I still find that I want to look nice.
It is a wedding, after all—however fake and small and underwhelming it might be.
Lucy appears at the closet door, her presence startling me out of my thoughts. She leans against the door and pulls a white, zippered bag down from the rack. “What about your mom’s dress?” Her voice is soft, full of questions.
“No.” I shake my head vehemently, taking the dress from her hands and re-hanging it. “This isn’t that kind of wedding.” I didn’t wear my mom’s dress to my wedding with Donny either. Even though I’ve always loved it—a timeless A-line with delicate straps and a dropped waist—Donny chose my dress for our ceremony: a strapless gown that showed off more cleavage than I was really comfortable with.
And honestly? I’m grateful I didn’t waste Mom’s dress on him.
But wearing it to a fake wedding would be even worse.
I snatch the green dress off the rack and maneuver past Lucy into the bedroom, unhooking the back of the purple dress and shoving it to the ground before stepping into the silky hug of the green option. It’s got flowing sleeves that button at the wrists and an empire waist that makes me look taller than my five-two. I reach for the back zipper.
“Here.” Lucy zips me up. Then she puts her arms around me from behind—she’s got about eight or nine inches on me—and sets her nose against my hair. “I love you, you know. As a friend and a sister. I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt here.”
I hug her hands and then turn out of her embrace, pulling her hands into mine and looking deep into her blue eyes. “I know you love me. But I’m going to be fine. This is Jordan. He won’t hurt me.”
She chews her lip. “But will you hurt him?”
“Of course not.” I bat away the words as I head for my dresser and stick in my favorite jingle bell earrings. “We made a solid agreement. Signed and everything. And I’m doing this to help him, remember?”
“I know, but Mare…I’m pretty sure the guy’s crazy about you.”
“You’re wrong.” I hope she’s wrong. Because if Jordan really does care about me like that, then this whole thing would be crazy. But I gave him time to back out—all weekend, in fact. He hasn’t.
“And you’re sure there’s no part of you that loves him?”
I whirl. “What? No! Not like that, anyway.”
She puts her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Like I said. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Lucy moves to the door. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.” Turning, she does a once-over on me. “That dress is killer, by the way. If Jordan did love you, you’d make him keel over.” Then she flashes me her famous Lucy smile, and my sassy sister is back. “Sweet macaroni, you probably will either way.”
“Get out of here.” Laughing, I open the door and push her into the hallway. “You’re going to make us late if you aren’t dressed soon.”
She salutes me and hurries toward the master bedroom.
I slip on my black heels—which I never wear—and turn back to the mirror, exhaling as I smooth out the skirt and my hair, which Lucy helped me curl earlier. It falls in soft waves down my back, all the way nearly to my rear. Usually it just gets in my way, but today it feels like a safety blanket of sorts.
Okay, then. I’m ready to marry my best friend.
As ready as I’m going to be, anyway.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in the back of Blake’s car, with him and Lucy sitting up front. My brother’s eyes keep finding me in the rearview mirror, his gaze alternating between concern and a scowl. I know he, like Lucy, is hesitant about this, but when I asked them to be our witnesses, he still agreed after making sure it was what I really wanted.
It made me realize that I haven’t really focused on what I want in a long time. I’ve been too busy healing, trying to ferret my way out of the hole Donny dug for me. That I dug for myself.
And honestly, I don’t know if I really want to marry Jordan. But I do want to help him, and this seems to be the best way to do that.
I also don’t hate the idea of having a little bit of flexibility to make a decision about my future. I talked with Pete from the bank on Saturday, and he confirmed that he’d happily give me a loan if Jordan cosigned. Of course, I didn’t mention that Jordan would be doing so as my spouse. You drop a bomb like that in Hallmark Beach, and everyone will know by lunchtime. For now, Blake and Lucy are the only ones who know. I don’t need any more voices in my head. It’s hard enough to make decisions without listening to everyone else.
No, I’m set on this, if only because my best friend needs me—and goodness knows he’s always been there for me when I’ve needed him .
After driving for about fifteen minutes, Blake pulls into the parking lot of a tiny chapel. It’s north of Hallmark Beach, set along the coast between it and the next town over. Cutting the ignition, he turns in his seat. “Ready, Squirt?”
“Yep,” I say with all the brightness I can. Then I climb from the sports car and glance up at the decades-old building, which is on a bluff overlooking the ocean, flanked by coast live oak trees on all sides and encased in glass and wood. I haven’t been here in ages. There’s another church around the corner from Main Street where some of my friends and family attend services, but this one… This one’s special.
It’s where my parents got married. And, when I was ten, they renewed their vows in this very spot.
Ironically, I didn’t choose the location. Jordan did, and he made all the arrangements too. He thought it would be nicer than seeing a justice of the peace, and getting married on a Monday afternoon meant it happened to be available—and that Blake could be here, since Monday is the only day he closes the food truck.
Lucy and Blake follow me to the front steps, where Jordan is sitting, chin in his hands. He doesn’t look up at first, which gives me a chance to study him. It’s the rare occasion he dresses up, but he’s got on a dark suit that’s cut to perfection, hugging his muscles and accentuating his smooth, tan skin. His hair is tousled with gel, and something about the way it’s lying so perfectly makes me want to run my fingers through it. To loosen it.
My breath catches when he glances up, and I see the deep green tie he’s wearing.
It matches my dress exactly.
It’s a coincidence, I know, but something about it comforts me. Reminds me that Jordan knows me better than I know myself. That we’ll be okay, even when we’re doing something as crazy as entering into a temporary marriage of convenience.
His jaw twitches. He stands, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Lee, you look… Wow.”
I feel heat rise in my cheeks, which is ridiculous, because Jordan has definitely seen me in this dress before at some event or another. “This old thing?” I swish the skirt dramatically, just to lessen whatever new tension this is between us. Guess it makes sense. Maybe he’s nervous.
But he doesn’t need to be. It’s just me. And it’s just him. We are us —the same people we’ve always been.
I step forward to give him a quick hug, but before I can, he reaches around me toward Blake. “Thanks for coming, guys.”
My brother takes his hand but doesn’t release it right away. “I will always be here when my sister asks.” Then he pulls him in close and whispers something—probably threatening him as any good brother should. It makes me smile that he thinks he needs to warn Jordan about anything.
Jordan, who has always been careful with my heart.
Staring at the two men I love most in this world, that very heart twists and thumps, and I feel tears prick my eyes.
Lucy slips her arm through mine. “Come on.” She tugs me away from the men, who follow closely behind.
When we reach the doors, Jordan bounds up the stairs and opens the glass door with the wooden handle. Lucy and Blake head on in before us. Even from here, I can see inside the church. It’s small, with maybe ten red-backed velvet pews on either side of a short aisle, but every wall is made almost entirely of glass. When we step inside, Jordan’s hand brushes the small of my back as he leads me toward the front. And is it just me, or do his fingers rustle through the ends of my hair?
I shiver at the contact.
What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the first time Jordan’s touched me like that. But I suppose it’s the first time he’s touched me like that as my fiancé .
Holy cupcakes, my fiancé. I’m about to get married again.
I stop walking toward the front, where Lucy and Blake have taken a seat in the front pew, and a skinny man with a clipboard, who looks to be in his thirties, is waiting under an arch of wood that gives a gorgeous view of the vista in front of us. The clouds from this morning have dissipated, leaving brilliant sunshine glinting off the surface of the ocean. At once, we are in the middle of a forest of trees and on the edge of the world. And it’s beautiful.
“Lee.”
“Hmm?” I turn to find Jordan close, looking down at me with eyebrows notched together. His cologne surrounds me, and I feel like I’m tucked into the hollow of a tree, safe and warm.
“Last chance to back out.” Jordan is not a goofball, but he’s not overly serious either. Neither of us are the life of the party or the party poopers. We are solidly in the middle—and in the middle together.
But right now, he’s giving off seriously solemn vibes.
“Do you want to back out?” I ask.
He hesitates, frowns. “I don’t want either of us to regret this. Maybe we should think?—”
“Maybe we should. But I think I’d arrive at the same conclusion. Ryder’s what matters, yes?”
“Well, yeah, of course.”
“And no matter what happens, we will continue to be best friends. Remember our agreement?”
When composing our list of rules to sign, I suggested that if either of us wanted out sooner than a year, we’d do it, so long as it wouldn’t negatively affect Jordan’s custody battle or my financial situation.
We both signed it, and thinking of that reminds me that this will all be okay. We have an out in our back pocket.
Slowly, Jordan nods and blows out another breath. “All right, then. Let’s do this.”
“Let’s. Except…”
“Except?”
My eyes search the chapel, almost frantic. Despite the glass, something about being inside suddenly makes my chest tighten. “I need air.”
“Okay. We can take a few extra min?—”
“No, not like that.” I purse my lips, my gaze finally landing on a patch of grass near the bluff outside. “Can we do the ceremony out there?”
His brow furrows. “Sure…”
“It’s just.” How do I explain? “I love that you chose a place that means a lot to me. That we aren’t doing this at some sterile justice of the peace, because that’s not who we are. But something about being married in a church, knowing…” Knowing that we are saying vows that are just for now. Just to save Ryder. “Well, I don’t really want to get struck by lightning on my wedding day.”
He laughs, a sound that eases the tightness in my chest. “You’re the last person in the world that would happen to. But I understand. Hang tight while I go talk with the site coordinator and see if we can move things outdoors.”
“K.”
He heads up front, pulling the man aside and talking with him. Lucy looks back at me, eyebrows raised. I turn toward the window again, meditating on the peace I will surely feel when all of this is over.
A touch on my elbow startles me.
“Sorry.” Jordan’s there, his voice low as he turns me roundabout to face him and Clipboard Man. “Marilee, this is the site’s event coordinator and officiant, Terry Maxson.”
“Hi, Marilee. Call me Terry.” Terry reaches out with his smooth, pale hand, and his mustache twitches as he smiles. “Jordan tells me you’d like to move things outside, and that’s perfectly acceptable. If you’ll just follow me, we’ll get things going.”
And before I have a chance to respond, he’s headed out a side door, Lucy and Blake close on his trail.
“You good?” Jordan reaches for my hand.
I swallow, take it. “All good.”
My heels click on the polished wood floor as we approach the door, hand in hand. My breathing ratchets up as my dress swishes against my legs, but Jordan is my anchor as he’s so often been. His hands aren’t soft, and I wouldn’t expect them to be with the way he’s outdoors and rock climbing and constantly doing sporty things. All of my attention zeroes in on a callus on his thumb, which wends its way back and forth over the top of my hand.
Why is that tiny motion so…intoxicating? All-consuming?
We step out onto stone steps that lead down into a small clearing. Here, my nose catches the sea-salted air, and my ears catch the whistling breeze. Then, we stand facing each other as my eyes catch a wink of something diving in the distance. A whale, maybe?
I haven’t gone whale watching in forever, but it’s something Mom and I liked to do together. So this… It feels almost like a gift, an assurance that everything is going to be okay.
Blake and Lucy stand off to one side as Terry dives right into the ceremony. But I couldn’t tell you one word of what was said. It’s like when I was a kid, and my mom would put eardrops in to prevent ear infections after I went swimming. There’s cotton in there now, and all I can do is force a smile and nod. My stomach feels like it’s going to bottom out but keeps dropping. And it’s oddly not due to nerves.
It’s because of Jordan’s darn thumb.
The tiny point of connection between us—two people who have touched more times than I can count. It doesn’t make sense that this would be so utterly distracting to me, especially in a moment like this.
But oh. My. Sheet cake.
I think…I think I’m attracted to my best friend.
My eyes jerk upward and find his, which are on me. They’re sharp around the edges, not missing anything, but gooey in the middle like brownies, fresh out of the oven, and oh wow, I wanna just sink into his gaze.
What? No, no, noooooooo.
Why have I never known—like, really known—how attractive this man is? I mean, I’ve always noticed he was good looking, but just kind of…I don’t know, ignored it? First, because I was with Donny, and then… Well, maybe I’ve always known.
But now, I can’t unknow it.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
“Lee.” Jordan’s voice slices through all the noise in my head to bring me back to reality—where I think I’m cutting off his circulation with how hard I’m gripping his hand.
I loosen my grip. “What? Sorry.” I turn to Terry, who watches me with a question in his gaze.
“I asked if you take this man to be your husband?” He says it like a question, like he’s unsure of my reply.
I don’t blame him. He probably doesn’t get a lot of space cadet brides in front of him.
“Sure do!” I say with all the brightness I can muster.
“Do you have rings?”
Jordan reaches into his pocket and pulls out two simple silver bands. He shifts, clearing his throat. “I figured we could get you something fancier…later.”
Code for: probably never, but we can’t say that in front of Terry. Got it.
I nod, and we exchange rings.
Then Terry speaks again. “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jordan…” He pauses dramatically. “You may kiss your bride.”
Oh, cookie crumbs.
Um, look, don’t judge me, but I don’t always think things through. I applaud myself for thinking of how I’d have to live with Jordan and how I’d get to hang out more with him and Ryder, and how we’d unfortunately have to lie to a few people and how I’d be able to finally stop worrying about finances for just a little while.
But somehow, I didn’t think about this moment—when the officiant would tell Jordan to kiss me.
Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered me before . But now that I think Jordan is not just handsome but attractive?
I…I’m without a thought in my brain. What do I do?
Jordan takes a step toward me, studying me for a moment—and then leans in.
I squeeze my eyes forcefully shut and wait for the peck on the lips I’m sure is coming. Because we did agree to kiss if absolutely necessary, and I kind of think our wedding ceremony would fit that particular bill.
But then, there’s a tiny bit of pressure on my hand, and I feel the warmth of Jordan’s breath hug my ear as he whispers, “Just breathe, Lee,” and presses his lips to my cheek.
My eyes pop open as his face retreats and he straightens.
And my chest unexpectedly deflates.
Terry clears his throat. “Hmm, well. All right, then. This would be the part where I announce you to your audience, but?—”
“But it’s just us,” Lucy teases from the side. She flashes me wide eyes filled with questions. My friend knows me well, and I’m guessing she can’t wait to get me alone and ask why I’m acting so strange. But how am I supposed to tell her, when I don’t understand it myself?
Terry gestures for us to walk back toward the church, but before we do, Jordan pulls me into a hug. “Did we just really do that?” His voice is muffled against my hair.
The familiarity of it calms me. Whatever insane attraction I just felt was just a result of the heightened emotions. It had to be. Because this is Jordan—my friend . He didn’t sign up for a wife who’s attracted to him or for things to be awkward or complicated between us.
So I will take those emotions and stuff them far, far away, praying they are a one-time thing.
He pulls away from our embrace and smooths down my hair where his hug ruffled it. “All right, then. Let’s go home.”
Home.
How strange that my definition of that just shifted in a matter of seconds. Though as I stand here in the shelter of his arms, I can’t help but wonder if it’s been the same all along. That I just didn’t realize it until now.
Nope. Friends.
As it’s always been.
As it’s gotta stay.