Chapter 12 #2
I rubbed my palms against my skirt, trying to ground myself, but the rings glinted like an accusation on my finger under the lamplight.
The weight of them still felt foreign. “Bodie. About this.” I lifted my hand, watching the diamond catch the light.
“I can’t wear these in the bakery. Not on my finger.
There’s too much dough and handwashing and…
one wrong turn and they’d be gone. I’m not risking that. It’s too important.”
His jaw flexed, a muscle jumping beneath the skin, like he was gearing up to fight me on it. I could practically see the arguments forming behind his eyes.
Before he could voice them, I rushed in, “I’ll put them on a chain. Wear it around my neck, close to my heart.”
Why had I said that? It wasn’t like we were real sweethearts.
Not wanting to make a thing of it, I blundered on. “They’ll still be with me, safe. Nobody has to know the difference. They’ll just see that I’m wearing them.”
He studied me for a long moment, those blue eyes searching my face like he was trying to read between the lines of what I was saying. Finally, he nodded slowly, though something in his expression suggested this wasn’t the end of the conversation. “As long as they stay with you.”
“They will,” I promised.
We drifted toward the back of the house, drawn by some unspoken agreement to put distance between ourselves and the front door, as if that might help us avoid the reality waiting outside.
An odd quiet settled between us, not unfriendly but unfamiliar, like two people learning a new dance and not quite sure of the steps.
I was exhausted to my bones, that deep tiredness that comes from emotional upheaval rather than physical exertion, but my mind spun anyway, replaying the Gibson dinner like a movie I couldn’t turn off.
The easy teasing between the brothers, the way Elsie squeezed my shoulders, how they’d simply…
accepted. Nobody tried to cut me down or make me smaller.
They’d just folded me in, like it was second nature.
As if Bodie and I had been together for a long time, and today’s surprise elopement was just the next obvious step.
And that, more than anything else today, terrified me. Because a part of me wanted that kind of acceptance so badly.
I cleared my throat, the sound too loud in the quiet house. “Your family… they’re… different.” The word was inadequate, too small to contain what I was trying to express. “I don’t know what to do with that. With them being so… kind.”
Bodie leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, his pose casual but his attention focused entirely on me. He seemed to see straight through my careful defenses. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let them be who they are. They’ll let you be who you are.”
I looked away, throat tight with emotions I didn’t want to examine too closely. “That’s not how it works in my family.”
“You’re a Gibson now.” His voice was quiet, certain, like he was stating a simple fact rather than making a promise.
That should’ve been comforting. Maybe it was, in a way I wasn’t prepared to analyze.
But I wasn’t a Gibson. Not really. Not for the long term.
This was temporary. A business arrangement that would end as soon as the legalities were satisfied.
The reminder sat heavy in my chest, a cold weight against the warmth his words had tried to kindle.
Still, I found myself whispering, “Thank you. For tonight. For all of it. For making it easier than it could have been.”
Something softened in his face, the careful cop mask slipping away to reveal something more vulnerable underneath.
For a heartbeat, I almost forgot to be wary, caught up in the unexpected intimacy of the moment.
We stared at each other, something pulsing between us.
Then I managed to yank myself free of whatever spell had been weaving around us.
“The guest room is covered in supplies from the bakery renovation, but there’s Gran’s room.
” It felt weird to offer it to him, like I was giving away something that wasn’t mine to give.
Weird to know she’d never sleep in that bed again.
But he wasn’t going to fit on the sofa, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable to begin with.
One corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been amusement. “The couch is fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”
Pitifully grateful for reasons I didn’t entirely understand—maybe because his refusal meant I wouldn’t have to face the reality of someone else in Gran’s space quite yet—I retrieved a blanket and pillow from the linen closet.
I also grabbed another blanket to make a pallet for Rubble, spreading it out near the sofa.
She nosed my leg until I gave her the scritches she was clearly demanding, her tail wagging with pure contentment.
Then she turned three precise circles on the makeshift bed before collapsing into a furry heap with a satisfied sigh that made me smile despite everything.
I glanced at Bodie, who was methodically arranging his blanket on the sofa with the same careful attention to detail I’d noticed him apply to everything else. “Bathroom is down the hall to the right. Towels are in the cabinet if you need them.”
“Got it.” He straightened, and for a moment we just stood there, neither of us quite sure how to end this strange day.
Out of things to say, and suddenly aware of the intimacy of having him in my space, preparing to spend the night under my roof, I muttered, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Em.” His voice was soft, carrying an unexpected warmth that wrapped around my name like a caress.
Those quiet words followed me back to my room, echoing in my head as I changed into my most comfortable pajamas and tried to process everything.
I slid between sheets that felt unfamiliar now, as if the entire house had shifted while I was gone.
Too much had changed. I lay staring at the ceiling, reliving that kiss in the courthouse I couldn’t seem to shake—the way it had felt so natural and startling all at once, the way Bodie had looked at me after—feeling surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.
Sometime later, the door creaked open, and I sat up, my heart doing something complicated in my chest. “Bodie?”
But I didn’t see his tall frame silhouetted in the doorway, didn’t hear his careful footsteps on the old floorboards.
Instead, a weight landed on the bed with a thump. Rubble, tail wagging once in greeting before she flopped down against my legs with a contented grumble, her warm body a solid presence in the darkness.
“Traitor,” I whispered, but there was no heat in it. I didn’t make her leave, couldn’t bring myself to send her back to her pallet when her snuggles were exactly what I needed.
I draped an arm over her shoulder, absorbing the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and tried to pretend it was enough to anchor me.
Because soon, the whole town would find out about this marriage, and whatever fragile peace I’d found tonight would be gone.
I’d have to face the questions, the speculation, the way people would look at me and try to figure out what game I was playing.
Soon, everything would change again.
But not just yet.