5. Chapter 5 #2
Mia blinked at him, startled all over again. He didn’t shuffle his feet or duck his head like she’d expect. He didn’t look out of place in this courthouse, didn’t look like someone dragged in off the streets. Instead, he stood tall, shoulders squared, gaze direct.
Joe’s brow creased, as if he’d noticed it too. Mia tugged lightly at his sleeve. “Joe?” she prompted, trying to keep the momentum going.
The judge jerked slightly, inhaling as though he’d forgotten himself for a moment, then turned back to the papers on his desk. “Right,” he muttered. He slid a pen across the surface. “If you both could just sign these documents.”
Mia snatched up the pen, not wasting a second to read. She couldn’t afford to. Every tick of the clock hammered against her nerves. If they didn’t get through this in time, she’d miss family court, and then—
She shoved the thought aside. No time for failure. She scribbled her name with barely controlled urgency, then turned, thrusting the pen at the man beside her.
“This is just a prenuptial agreement,” she explained in a rush, her voice louder than she intended.
“Anything either of us brings into the marriage remains our own. Everything we earn or receive during our marriage stays separate. And—” she pointed to the relevant paragraph, tapping the paper with her nail—“it also gives you a monthly amount you can do whatever you like with.”
“As long as you make it to family court in time,” Joe added, his tone dry but urgent. “I included that clause in the agreement.”
“Right.” Mia forced another smile, though her nerves burned. She turned back to her…fiancé. “It’s a generous amount, Mr. Moretti. I promise, if we can get this done quickly, you’ll have the additional five hundred dollars today, plus enough to get you off the streets for a long time.”
Why was he glaring at her?
Her breath stuttered. He looked like he wanted to say something, like he had thoughts far sharper than any drifter should. But instead, he took the pen silently.
He bent over the papers. His eyes flicked across the text too quickly, his movements too efficient. Mia’s confusion spiked. No one could read that fast. Not through four pages. And yet, somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d read and understood every word.
Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t how a homeless man acted. Not the posture, not the focus, not the calm control. He wasn’t fumbling or overwhelmed—he was dissecting. Evaluating.
And then he did something entirely unexpected. At the section detailing his monthly stipend, he slashed a thick line straight through the paragraph. He even crossed out the amount. Then, without hesitation, he initialed the change, flipped to the final page, and signed his name with a firm stroke.
Mia gasped, flipping back to the ruined section. “You don’t understand,” she blurted, her voice cracking. “This isn’t the amount you’ll pay me. It’s how much I’ll pay you.”
She looked into his blue eyes, desperate for a reaction, for a flicker of comprehension or greed. But his gaze didn’t flinch. Didn’t even waver.
Her voice faltered, dwindling into a whisper. “Every month.”
Joe cleared his throat and pointed to another paragraph. “Assuming the family court judge sides in her favor,” he cautioned, giving Raffe a pointed look.
Raffe didn’t move. He just stood there, broad and still, staring down at Mia with those unsettling eyes.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. What was he thinking?
How could she even guess? She’d spent less than fifteen minutes with him in total, and now she was trusting him with the most reckless gamble of her life.
Her nerves jittered, threatening to spiral, but she forced her shoulders straight and muttered, “It’s going to work,” under her breath. Turning back to Joe, she announced, “Let’s do this.”
Joe chuckled knowingly. “I know. Time crunch.” He jerked his chin toward them. “Join hands and repeat after me.”
Mia hesitated, her palms suddenly damp. But she didn’t have the luxury of hesitation. Every tick of the clock brought her closer to losing her nonna. So she reached out and slid her cold fingers into his—startled again at the heat, the strength, the steadiness of his grip.
Her voice shook on the first vow, but she pushed through it, repeating the words carefully.
At one point, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around hers, as though he were trying to reassure her.
The gesture unsettled her. How could he know?
How could a stranger possibly sense how much this farce rattled her? She must have imagined it.
Five surreal minutes later, Joe lifted his hands with a flourish and grinned. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He glanced at Raffe. “You may kiss the bride.”
Mia froze, her mouth already opening to protest. A kiss wasn’t necessary, was it? This was about paperwork, signatures, nothing more. But when she looked up into Raffe’s eyes, the words caught in her throat. The heat there stopped her cold.
Slowly—so slowly—he leaned in. Her instincts screamed at her to push him away, to laugh off the idea, to keep her distance. She didn’t kiss strangers.
But then, her mind whispered, he wasn’t the stranger from yesterday. Yesterday, he’d been dingy, unkempt, all grime and shadows. Today his hair was brushed back, his white shirt was clean, his scent warm and fresh, as though he’d stepped out of another life entirely.
Her pulse skipped. And when his lips touched hers—just a brush, a ghost of pressure—it shocked her how good it felt. Light, easy, nothing more than a whisper of a kiss. And then it was over.
He straightened slowly, though his warm fingers remained wrapped around hers, anchoring her as they stared at each other. For a few suspended heartbeats, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, waiting for…something.
Then Joe laughed, Mary clapped, and the spell was broken.
Joe shoved papers into her hands. “You’re going to be late if you don’t run.”
Mary hugged Mia quickly, then pressed another form into her hand. “Sign this while I call Probate Court and tell Judge Winters you’re on your way.”
“Thanks, Mary,” Mia managed, bending over the desk to scribble her name on the marriage license. Her hand shook slightly, but once her signature was on the page, relief washed over her in a dizzying wave. It was done. A small victory—but it was hers.
She turned, thrusting the pen toward Raffe. He didn’t hesitate. Not this time. He leaned forward and signed his name with decisive strokes, as if the whole affair didn’t faze him at all.
Mary whisked the license away and headed for the door, holding the document aloft like a prize. “I’m going to file this for you, but I know you’ll need copies. I’ll be right back.”
Mia stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding against her ribs. She had done it. Married. To a stranger. Her stomach twisted with nerves, but beneath it all, an undeniable thread of relief ran strong. One impossible step had been taken. Now came the harder part.
None of this could have happened if Joe and Mary hadn’t stepped in to help her. Gratitude filled Mia’s chest, threatening to spill over. She turned to Raffe, unaware of the shimmer in her dark eyes.
“Thank you for helping me today,” she whispered, lowering her head to hide the sudden, embarrassing sting of tears. Digging into her purse, she pulled out the second envelope and offered it to him. “This is the other half of the amount I owe you.”
Joe hissed from across the desk. “Don’t hand over envelopes of cash in my office!” He wasn’t even looking, his phone pressed to his ear as he muttered into the line.
“Thanks, Mike,” Joe finally said, hanging up. “Okay, that buys you a little time.”
Before Mia could breathe in relief, Mary bustled back into the room, waving three pages in her hand. “I made two copies. I’ll file this with the Vital Records Office myself. Martha owes me—babysitting debt. She’ll expedite the process to record the license.”
Mia surged forward, kissing Mary’s cheek gratefully, clutching the papers like they were made of gold. “You’re wonderful!” she said breathlessly, then pressed one copy into Raffe’s big hand. “Thank you again. This…this was great.”
But even as she said it, doubt wormed its way into her chest. Was it really great? Or was she gambling everything on a stranger?
“Go!” Joe barked, pushing her toward the door with a brusque hug. “Mike can only stall so long. The amount of money at stake makes people twitchy.”
“I know, I know!” Mia laughed, but the sound was sharp, brittle. Her nerves buzzed so hard her hands shook as she clutched the papers. “Because of you two, I might have a chance now!”
And then she bolted. Out the door, into the hall, her heels echoing with every frantic step. Her heart raced faster than her feet. The courthouse halls felt too narrow, the air too thin.
She had a chance now, yes. But was it the right chance? Was marrying a stranger really the only way to save her nonna? What if she’d just made things worse?
She shoved the thought aside, forcing her legs to move faster. She didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing. Probate Court wouldn’t wait. The papers in her hands would be enough. They had to be.
Behind her, she didn’t see Raffe still standing in the office, his expression unreadable.
Mary sighed, staring at the empty doorway before turning to him. “Well, Agent Moretti?” she whispered. “Are you really going to leave a damsel in distress? Or are you going to do your hero thing and help her out?”
Raffe’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing, but Mary only nodded her head. “I know,” she murmured knowingly. “Now go. You’re a good man under all that grumpy, hottie exterior.” She flicked her fingers at him, shooing him out the door.
Joe’s laughter followed him out. Mary turned, her smile fading as she looked at her boss. “Do you think it will work?” she asked quietly.
Joe’s mouth twisted thoughtfully as he lowered himself back into his chair. After a long pause, he shrugged. “Not sure. But we’ve done what we could.”