Chapter 17
LANEY
I hadn’t dreamed extensively of my wedding day when I was a little girl. Admittedly though, when I had thought about it, I’d always imagined it would be full of flowers, music, white lace, and love.
In reality, I was riding the trolley into downtown, alone and watching the rain trickle down the window. There was no something old, new, borrowed, or blue—unless my mood could cover the latter.
Instead of wearing a pretty white gown, I had on gray slacks, a white shirt, and a matching suit jacket. It was my best suit, but it was far from bridal. Far from even remotely resembling an outfit anyone would associate with a wedding—least of all with the bride.
I also didn’t have my dad at my side to walk me down the aisle. That bit stung worse than the rest of it.
My father, my rock and anchor, didn’t even know I was getting married today. He hadn’t been home when I’d woken up this morning, so I’d left him a note saying we needed to talk later, but I still had no idea how I was going to break this news.
I wasn’t sure if this was going to kill him or if he was going to kill me. Time would tell, I supposed, but none of this felt good. None of it felt right and yet, I was determined to follow through.
Life isn’t about chocolates and flowers. Apparently, it’s about contracts and paperwork. Welcome to adulthood. Can I cancel my subscription yet?
I sighed and fiddled with the neat bun I’d tied my hair into. My makeup was light and natural. Simple. There was no ring on my finger and no bouquet in my hand.
All I had was a folder in my lap containing a contract I’d already signed and a stomach full of knots I couldn’t untangle. I turned toward the window, looking out at a city that was dull and gray under the rain, the sidewalk glossy with puddles and mottled, weak sunlight.
It seemed not even the weather gods were feeling celebratory today. Thanks, dudes. I appreciate the show of solidarity.
Truth be told, I’d considered cutting and running more times than I could count this morning. Over and over again, I’d questioned my sanity, but every time, I’d arrived at the same conclusion—I couldn’t back down now.
I was this close to getting two of the three things I’d always wanted most. After this year, the business and the baby would be mine.
Love would have to wait, and frankly, it wasn’t like it’d been hurtling toward me at any great speed anyhow.
I was sure dating would be just as dull and disappointing next year.
Just shy of eight, I stepped off the trolley and into the miserable drizzle falling from above. I tucked my chin and kept the folder hugged to my chest, praying the pages would get too soaked to mean anything.
My heels clicked with soft splashes against the sidewalk as I walked the rest of the way to Fremont Tower, every footstep echoing just a little too loud in the quiet streets. A few lights were on inside the building, but most people were still sleeping.
Like the rest of the city.
I guess that’s what happens when you schedule a wedding at this hour on a Saturday morning, at a corporate office, no less.
Yesterday, I wouldn’t have even thought it was possible to pull off something like this literally overnight, but I was starting to realize that money could buy you pretty much anything if you had enough of it.
Another sigh slipped out of me as I crossed the sleepy lobby, a little wet, a lot uncertain, and shivering slightly from the cold.
“Laney Rhodes,” I muttered to the security guard through mildly chattering teeth. “I’m here for Sterling Westwood.”
The man at the desk barely looked at me before buzzing me through, much unlike the scene I’d had to kick up to gain entrance to this building the last time I’d been here, but I guess that was just one small example of all the ways my life would change after today.
No more having to beg people to let me in anywhere. All I’d have to do was say my name.
Lovely .
I grimaced as I rode the elevator up alone, wondering if I’d made a mistake not bringing Gwen with me for company after all. As I ascended, the numbers glowed above the door, ticking upward, too slow and much too fast at the same time.
My heart thudded unevenly against my ribs, my palms sweating against the folder. Despite being cold and wet, I was still sweating bullets, entirely uncertain what to expect when I got up there. When the doors opened though, I was met with nothing but silence.
Empty corridors. Frosted glass and slick marble. Everything in Sterling’s world felt expensive, heavy, and meticulously arranged. Where the hell do I fit into that? I don’t.
Just as I was about to spin on my low-slung heels and run back to the elevator to escape before it officially became official , he appeared. Sterling stepped out of a conference room mid-sentence, cutting someone off without even looking back.
“Give me a minute,” he commanded, his eyes locked on mine from the second he saw me.
God, those eyes.
They pinned me in place, so unnervingly blue that for a moment I forgot that I’d been about to run. There was something different about them today though, and it took me a beat to realize that it was the lack of ice.
There was nothing cold about that gaze right now. All I could do was stare at him when I realized it, watching as his whole posture changed when he looked back at me. The smooth confidence gave way to something else.
Something quiet. Alert. Intense. Something that made me feel like the air between us was pulsating with more than just contractual obligation and mutual agreement.
The spell broke when he spoke as he strode toward me, his pace fast and clipped, brow furrowing with worry. His gaze left mine to sweep across the length of my body.
“You’re pale,” he murmured. “You’re also damp. Are you all right? What happened?”
“It’s raining.” I handed him the folder and brushed my hands down the front of my suit. “I’m fine.”
His hand moved to my elbow, warm through the fabric. I stepped back automatically, not looking at him as I turned toward the room he’d emerged from. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He hesitated for half a beat but didn’t argue.
Just gave a nod and gestured for me to follow.
I fell into step beside him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I rolled my fingers into fists in my palms in the hopes that it would stop my hands from shaking, feeling the rigid set of my shoulders, but unable to relax enough to change it.
We walked into a conference room that looked exactly like the ones in movies where hostile takeovers happened. Exactly like the one in which he’d told me that day that Megan had well and truly screwed me.
In the center was a polished table with leather chairs neatly pushed in around it. Bottled water with condensation still clinging to the sides on a sideboard. A man I didn’t recognize, wearing a gray suit and a serious expression, sat at the head of the table with a portfolio open in front of him.
“Ms. Rhodes,” he said, tone brisk and emotionless. “I’m Peter Long. Senior partner with Long, Smith, and Shore. I’m here to review the terms of the contract with both you and Mr. Westwood in order to ensure that you’re both fully aware of what you’re signing.”
I nodded stiffly and sat down. Sterling took the seat next to mine, but he didn’t scoot closer like a normal about-to-be-newlywed might’ve.
He kept a safe distance, as if this was just another business meeting he was conducting at this table, and he folded his arms on top of it as he turned his attention to Peter.
Most of the terms of the contract, I knew by heart at this point, but I noted the most important parts again. One year. Shared residence. Reasonable public appearances. Attempt to conceive within the first six months. Negotiation window at the end of twelve.
I didn’t flinch. I’d made my peace with it. Or I was trying to, anyway.
When he was done, he took the folder I’d given to Sterling and paged through the documents inside. Then he pushed the contract over to Sterling. He signed. I’d signed, and when we were done, Sterling reached into his briefcase and pulled out a different document.
It seemed heavier. The paper thicker, the edges embossed. The state seal in the corner. My heart slammed to a brief stop.
“The marriage certificate,” he said, pushing it across the table so I could see it.
As I glanced down, I swallowed hard. Again. Nothing dislodged the rock in my throat at the sight of my name on that document, my vision even blurring a little around the edges.
Before I could say a word, another man strode in. Also wearing a suit. A dark navy that wasn’t perfectly fitted but looked professional enough.
“This won’t be officially recorded until Monday, but I’ve got everything I need to file,” he said, nodding at both of us in turn. “Judge Lansing has already pre-approved it.”
Of course, he has. Still, it seemed reasonable to check. I looked up at the new guy, wondering what he thought of what was happening here. How much he knew. I supposed it didn’t really matter, but he seemed normal.
Like me.
Or at least, like I used to be.
“And you are?” I asked, my voice breathier and softer than usual.
The guy offered me a tight, polite smile. “Eric Reed. Judge Lansing’s clerk.” He turned to Sterling. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Westwood. Congratulations.”
As he left, I glanced at Sterling. My husband . He’d barely blinked. Like knowing judges was just part of the job. Like greasing the wheels of justice came as naturally to him as breathing. Gah, I need to stop being surprised by stuff like this if I’m going to survive the next year.
If his father was the king of San Francisco, Sterling was the prince. Just like Gwen had said, which meant I’d just married into royalty with nothing but a business plan and a good head for budgeting.
I looked down at the paper in front of me again, my name printed in an ordinary, even boring, font. Laney Rhodes.