15. 15
It isn’t even noon and I’ve got my lawyers and Ash working hard. Ash has procured the license and the officiator. They are ready and at my beck and call. She’s a very handy woman. She’s also holding a press conference in Cali without me, announcing my recent nuptials.
Very recent.
In fact, we may be saying ”I do” while she”s telling the world that it”s a done deal. Lane Jonas is making changes in her life—and those changes look good. So, keep looking world.She isn’t a has-been. Nope, she is just getting started.
“You don’t want to change?” Miles asks me. “Or should I?” He tugs at the front of his T-shirt.
“I’m not really worried about our clothes right now. We just need to make it official. I can have Ash set up a photo shoot later.”
“Photo shoot?” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a strong man game at the town fair.
We stand in Miles’ one-room loft waiting for the people Ash is sending over. One witness and one officiator with all the official paperwork. My heart thumps in my chest, though I know none of this is real. There are no real feelings involved. The paperwork is legitimate but that’s it, which is why this plan is so perfect.
Could I have married Patrick? Sure. But at one point on the show, he insisted that he loved me, that he’d do anything for me. So, that commitment came with loss and heartbreak. This comes with a gift for Miles, something he’s always wanted, and no broken hearts. The thought helps me breathe easier.
However, my husband-to-be looks a little pale.
There’s a tap on Miles’ door, and I open it up to a man and woman I’ve never seen before. “Alec? Bonnie?”
They nod.
Miles leans closer to my side, whispering, “So, they can know, but my mom has to stay in the dark?”
This guy really likes his mom—I cannot relate. I don’t dislike my mom, but we’ve never seen eye to eye.
“They don’t know. They only know what their jobs are,” I mutter back.
And that’s the only introduction we get. These two are confidants of Ash’s. And Bonnie, as of fifteen minutes ago, via the Internet, is legally ready to officiate her first wedding ceremony. Alec is here to witness.
We sign paperwork without bothering to read any of it and we’re ready to vow one year of our lives to the other.
The ceremony takes a measly three and a half minutes. Miles and I stand face to face, not even touching. We both offer “I do’s”, nothing more, and, without a kiss-the-bride, Bonnie gives us a nod.
“Legal and binding. You are wed.”
I breathe in, my shoulders rising, looking up at my new husband. It’s done. “You may kiss the bride,” my nervous instincts say—out loud. I don’t mean to. Still, the words are out and I can’t take them back. It doesn’t feel official without those words. I wait to see what he’ll do. Miles has the sort of full lips that look kissable—just as an observation.
Miles cups both my cheeks, his eyes on mine, and the pulse in my wrists picks up speed. Okay—here we go.
Husband.
Let’s do this. You know, for our audience.
I can allow a kiss.Again—for our audience.
He’s giving me a year of his life. I can give him a kiss.
I watch as Miles moves closer. But his hands on my face tip down, not up. He presses—yet another—soft kiss to my forehead. His hands warm my cheeks, and though Miles doesn’t kiss my lips, blood still rushes to my face with his touch.
Somehow this man’s forehead kisses leave me spinning more than any kiss from a contestant on a TV show ever did.
It must be the strangeness and the newness of this situation. Not him. It couldn’t be him. Because I hardly know the man. His morals are the only reason he stands across from me now.
Before Miles can take his lips from my head, Alec is talking. “Okay, Ash has a small press conference set up for you at—”
“We cannot tell the press,” Miles says. “Not until we’ve told my mother.”
Yikes. His mother. I’m already a little terrified of the woman. All mothers give me hives—well, all mothers other than my grandma.
I can do media. I can do press conferences. I can do a lot of hard things. Meeting mothers is not counted among them.
I’ve had a handful of boyfriends over the years—I don’t know any of their moms.
Alec looks to me.
I nod. How can I deny Miles this? He’s giving me marriage and a commitment of some sort. “We’re talking to Miles’ family first, then we’ll talk to the press. Tell Ash to hold off until—” I pause, looking at my Miles.
“Tomorrow,” he says. “We can tell her tonight.”
I nod. “Tomorrow it is. Just have Ash text me.”
“Will do.” Alec gathers his things and starts for the door.
“Congrats,” Bonnie says, holding out the signed marriage license and prenup entitling Miles to the studio building and nothing else. They slip out of Miles’ loft without a sound, and I am left alone with my husband.
“We need to get a few things straight,” he tells me. “Or this isn’t going to work. I don’t think I would have met you online. It’s just not me. My family won’t believe that. Maybe you visited Coeur d’Alene before.”
“Sure,” I say, plunking myself onto his couch. I peer about the room. “I was here before, years ago, so that’s plausible.” I bounce a little on the thin couch cushion. “Where do you sleep, Miles?”
“Couch bed.”
That’s right. He mentioned that. That does not sound comfortable.
“So, a visit?” He sits next to me, getting right back to business.
“Yeah. I mean, my family came to Coeur d’Alene before my parents split up.”
“Your parents are divorced?” His brows furrow. “Mine too. There’s so much we don’t know about each other.”
I breathe in, then out, pursing my lips. “It’s true. And we aren’t going to learn it all in an hour. So—maybe we had a rapid romance. Something neither of us expected. We threw caution to the wind and jumped in.”
“That doesn’t really sound like me. Besides, we should know at least something about the other.” His brows raise as those hazel eyes—more green than blue stare into mine.
“We should.” I pull up my legs and cross them, sitting on this couch sideways so that my body faces his. “Well, I know that you got this ice skating,” I say, tapping the scar on his chin, maybe a little too proud of myself. “And your brother… Lance—”
“Levi—” He smirks. “My brother Levi never forgave himself for letting me fall.”
“That’s right, a brother. You have a brother. I have a sister, Eryn.”
“I have three brothers and one sister.”
“Holy.” I puff out a breath. Such a big family. My parents did not like one another enough to produce such a large family.
“Yeah. You should know their names. I would have talked about them. My family is very important to me. My nieces especially, Alice and Lula. They’re Coco’s girls, one stepdaughter and one biological. But they’re both hers.”
“Oh, boy.” There’s a lot more here than we have time for. “Okay, give it to me.” I memorize lyrics for a living. I can remember Miles’ family.
“In age order: Levi, Coco—”
“Coco?” I smirk.
“Yeah, Coco is a nickname. Mom named us all after something she loved, and Coco’s given name is Cora, after the color coral.”
I tilt my head and watch him. “And you were named after?”
He pulls in a slow breath, his broad chest expanding. “A soap opera star. Some character from Lovers Love—”
“Lovers Love Twice! I used to watch that show with my grandma.” I bounce in my seat. “You’re named for Miles Howard, the debonair surfer who stole Charlotte’s heart after her husband died and she thought she’d never love again.” I throw a hand across my forehead for dramatics.
Miles cracks the smallest of grins. “How do you know that?”
“My grandma had all the seasons taped. I used to watch them with her on her old VHS player.” I laugh. “This is awesome. Grandma is going to love you, Miles Bailey.” My eyes widen. What if… “Ooo! Tell me your middle name is Howard. Tell me. Please, Miles. If your middle name is Howard, then that hideous green doily she has hanging on her wall is mine!! Eryn can suck it!”
He chuckles at my outburst. “Why would you want a hideous doily?”
“Because it’s Grandma’s, and she’s had it hanging on her wall for half a century. Eryn and I have both asked for it for the last decade. So, tell me your middle name is Howard, Miles.” I cross my fingers on both hands and hold them up, waiting for his answer.
“Sorry. I’m named after my dad. Miles Gavin Bailey.”
“Are you close with him? You haven’t mentioned him.” Granted, this is the first real in-depth conversation we’ve had.
”Ah, not really. We were, kind of, when I was young. But after my parents” divorce, Dad started traveling, and now it”s a rare occasion for us to see him. He checks in every couple of months.”
“Doesn’t that piss you off?” I stare at him, waiting for his response. But there is no malice in this man’s voice. It’s an unfair question. I’m not angry with my dad for being more committed to his gambling addiction than his daughters. It is what it is. I’m just grateful when I do see him because I know I won’t be judged.
“How would that help anything?”
“Okay, so Miles isn’t an angry soul.” I can’t take my eyes off his. He doesn’t care that he’s sitting here with someone famous, or that we were just married, or that his dad is an apparent loser. Okay, harsh, but who wouldn’t want to spend time with Miles?
“Are you an angry soul?”
I twist my lips. “Not angry. But in weak moments, a little bitter and extremely cautious of who I offer my time to.”
“Says the girl who just legally bound herself to a stranger.”
I lift my brows once. “I have a good feeling about you. And if my grandmother’s lessons, my mother’s judgment, and Celebrity Wife have taught me anything, it’s to go with my gut.”
“Your mother’s judgment?”
I press my lips together and squeeze one eye closed. “Yeah. We don’t exactly get along, and she doesn’t approve of ninety-nine percent of my life choices.”
“Ninety-nine, huh?” he says, his words laced with doubt.
“When she thought I was getting married on national TV without inviting her, she left a message asking how I could do this to her. When I ended up not marrying anyone, she left another message asking why I couldn’t just give one of the men a shot. And did I have any idea how I was affecting the family name.”
“She leaves a lot of messages, huh?”
I swallow. “I don’t pick up the phone that often.”
The irony of the universe is a funny thing. I barely have the words out when Miles’ phone, sitting between us, begins to sing. The word Mom lights up the screen.
And—he does answer.
Just seeing the name sends a shiver down my spine, but there is no hesitation for Miles.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Miles!” I hear the woman shriek, though he’s holding the cell to his ear. “I’m seeing pictures and… and… What’s going on?”
“I’m on my way to your place. I’ll explain everything.”
He hangs up and I watch him.
“We’re on our way?” I ask. “Do we know enough?”
“No way.” His thick brows give one quick leap. “Let’s go.”