Chapter 14
MANDY
Iwoke up the next morning feeling physically normal. My body was fine, but my brain was a chaotic mess of anxiety and what-ifs.
I’d spent most of the previous night staring at my phone, drafting and deleting potential social media posts.
Every version sounded either too defensive, too casual, or too desperate.
I needed to address the elephant in the room—or rather, the accidental husband in my life—but I couldn’t say anything until Briggs and I were on the same page.
Continuing our marriage was a drastic idea, but it seemed like the only way to make the best of this terrible situation. I hoped dinner tonight would sort everything out. Maybe we’d find a way through this that didn’t end with my career in shambles.
My phone buzzed with a text from Cleo.
Cleo: We’re coming to you. Landing in an hour. Don’t argue.
I didn’t have the energy to argue anyway. I texted back a thumbs-up and went to the shower to clean up. By the time I was dressed in jeans and a loose tee that I had planned to fly home in, there was a knock at my door.
I opened it to find Cleo and Callum standing there with coffee and pastries from some fancy bakery I’d never heard of.
“Emergency intervention,” Cleo announced, pushing past me into the room. “With carbs.”
“And caffeine,” Callum added, following her inside. “The two essential food groups.”
I took the coffee gratefully and sank onto the couch. “You guys didn’t have to fly out here.”
“Are you kidding?” Cleo settled into the chair across from me, already pulling out a croissant. “Our business partner just accidentally married our cousin. This is absolutely worth the flight. I was going to get you a card, but surprisingly, Hallmark doesn’t make one for that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Haha. But still, you didn’t have to come. I’m a big girl. I can figure this out.”
“It’s like a forty-minute flight on the jet,” Callum said with a shrug. “Barely counts as travel.”
I took a sip of my coffee, letting the blessed warmth roll through me. “I’m sorry. This whole thing is such a disaster.”
“It’s not a disaster,” Cleo said firmly. “It’s unexpected. There’s a difference.”
“Cleo, I got drunk at a client’s wedding and ran off to marry a man I barely know. That’s the definition of a disaster.”
“Or it’s a really efficient way to solve a problem,” Callum said.
I looked at him. “What problem?”
“Briggs was worried about working with someone who wasn’t in the family,” he said, grinning. “And now that’s not a problem. Welcome to the family, cousin!”
“That’s not funny,” I said, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.
“It’s a little funny,” Cleo said. “Come on, Mandy. Of all the Blackwell men you could have accidentally married, Briggs is probably the best option.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, he’s responsible. Successful. Not a total asshole, despite first impressions.
And he’s not out there being a man-slut like some of the other Blackwell boys.
That doesn’t hurt.” She took a bite of her croissant.
“Plus, he’s as mortified by this as you are, which means he’s going to want to handle it professionally.
You could have ended up with someone who tried to leverage the situation. ”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I guess.”
“And honestly, this might actually work in your favor,” Callum said. “People love a good romance.”
“Except we didn’t fall for each other. We got drunk and made a terrible decision.”
“Details.” Cleo waved her hand dismissively. “The point is you can spin this. Make it work for you instead of against you.”
I wanted to believe them. I really did. But the anxiety still sat heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “I’ll just be happy if my clients don’t think I’m irresponsible and a liability. Trust is everything in my line of work.”
Cleo set down her coffee and leaned forward. “Mandy, you’ve built your reputation on being excellent at what you do. One unexpected marriage doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes you more relatable. You’re human. You made an impulsive decision. People understand that.”
“She’s right,” Callum said. “And besides, the Blackwell name carries weight. Being married to Briggs, even temporarily, gives you connections you didn’t have before. It opens doors.”
“That is definitely not the point of any of this,” I said.
“It’s practical,” Cleo said. “You’re not using him. You’re making the best of a complicated situation. There’s a difference.”
I picked at my croissant, letting their words sink in. Maybe they were right. Maybe this didn’t have to be the end of everything I’d worked for. Maybe I could find a way to make it work.
“I’m meeting him for dinner tonight,” I said. “To discuss terms.”
“Terms,” Callum repeated, smiling. “Very romantic.”
“It’s not supposed to be romantic. It’s supposed to be professional.” I took another sip of coffee.
“Right, because nothing says professional like a surprise Vegas wedding,” Cleo said, but she was grinning.
I threw a piece of croissant at her. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m absolutely helping. I’m making you laugh instead of spiral.” She caught the piece of pastry and popped it in her mouth. “That’s what family does.”
I’d been so focused on the disaster of the marriage that I hadn’t really thought about what it meant beyond the legal implications. But Cleo and Callum were right—I was part of their family now, at least on paper.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For coming.”
“So, how did you end up married?” Cleo asked. “Like how does that even come up in conversation?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if it was his idea or mine. That’s the crazy part. I don’t know who suggested it. Like was it a dare? Did I ask him to marry me or did he ask me to marry him? Where did we get rings?”
Callum laughed. “It kind of sounds like old-school Briggs.”
“What does that mean?”
“Briggs used to be fun,” Callum said, settling back on the couch. “Like, genuinely fun. He was the one who’d organize road trips at two in the morning. He’d be the first one on the dance floor at family functions.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking about the same Briggs? Tall, perpetually scowling, looks like he irons his pajamas?”
Cleo laughed. “That’s the one. But Callum’s right. He wasn’t always like that. Something changed after law school. He got more serious. More rigid.”
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious now.
Callum shrugged. “Life, I guess. Responsibilities. The weight of being a Blackwell. Then when their dad died, it rocked them all, but Briggs and Adrian especially. Adrian knew his place. He had to step up and Briggs knew he had to support him. I think he feels like he’s protecting them via the legal way.
When Buck died, it shocked all of us. I think Briggs felt like he should have known. ”
“How could he have possibly known?” I asked.
“He couldn’t. Buck had a massive heart attack. It just happened. All of the guys handled it in their own way. Briggs was never quite like Sebastian or Dash, but he had his moments.”
I nodded. “So he buried the fun guy under a mountain of three-piece suits and contracts that protected his family and the legacy his father left.”
“Pretty much.” Cleo leaned forward. “But maybe you’ll bring that side of him back out. You already got him drunk enough to marry you. That’s progress.”
“I’m not sure that could ever qualify as progress. I think the word you’re looking for is disaster.”
“Potato, potahto,” Callum said with a grin. “Point is, there’s a real person under all that lawyer armor. You just have to find him.”
I thought about that as they eventually left, promising to check in tomorrow.
The idea that Briggs used to be different, used to be fun, was difficult to picture.
But then again, I’d seen glimpses of something else in those photos from our wedding night.
A man who was laughing, who looked genuinely happy.
And clearly there had been something that made me want to marry his grumpy ass.
Later that evening, I stood in front of my closet trying to decide what one wore to negotiate the terms of a fake marriage. I settled on one of the options I brought for the wedding. A black dress. It did feel like a black dress occasion.
The restaurant Briggs had chosen was exactly what I expected: upscale with minimal lighting to provide just a little extra privacy.
It was the kind of place where the menu didn’t have prices and the wine list was thicker than most novels.
I gave my name to the hostess, who smiled and led me to a private table in the back.
And there he was.
Briggs stood as I approached, and my heart did a stupid little flutter that I immediately tried to squash. He was back in a suit that fit him like a glove. His hair was styled, his jaw clean-shaven. He looked every inch the high-powered attorney I’d met in that conference room.
The disappointment was real. For a moment, I’d let myself hope that maybe Callum was right. Maybe I’d see some hint of the fun guy buried under all that professionalism.
But no. This was Briggs in his natural habitat, armored up and ready for business. He was negotiating our marriage.
“Mandy,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.” I sat down, smoothing my dress. “You look very lawyer-y.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t really meant as one.”
The waiter appeared, rattling off specials I barely heard. I ordered the first thing that sounded good—some kind of pasta—and when he asked about wine, both Briggs and I said “No” in unison.
The waiter looked confused but nodded and left us alone.
“Water only,” I said. “For the foreseeable future. My liver is still protesting.”
“Agreed.” Briggs tapped two fingers on a file I hadn’t noticed until just then. “I’ve drafted a contract outlining the terms of our arrangement.”
A laugh bubbled up in my chest, slightly hysterical. “You know, every time I see you, you bring me legal documents to sign. You ever think of trying flowers?”
He frowned, already pulling out his pen. “I can add that in if— “
I reached across the table and grabbed the pen out of his hand, holding it out of reach. “Just stop for a second.”
He looked at me, genuinely confused. “What?”
“Put the contract away. Just for a minute.” I kept the pen hostage, watching him. “Can we just talk? Like normal people? Before we dive into the legal logistics of our accidental marriage?”
The guy looked like I just stole his ball. He was genuinely thrown. I couldn’t decide if it was cute or terrifying. But he was my husband—for better or worse.