Taryn #2
“I need to use the restroom.” I need a minute. I need to sit in a stall and calm my heart rate. Get away from my family and their pitiful stares.
I’m trying to breathe through my turbulent thoughts when I hear it as I round the corner.
“Poor Liam,” one of the Chicago men mutters to another, voice pitched low but not low enough. “Guess a girl like that doesn’t need much convincing to spread her legs—or her money.”
The laugh that follows is deep and mean, and I freeze, my back to them, heart pounding in my ears.
And then Liam laughs too—low and amused. He’s laughing with them. Agreeing with them. I may vomit. But before I can turn around, I hear the scrape of shoes, a choked sound, and Liam’s voice, jovial, but with a strange edge.
“Say that again,” he says, his tone razor-sharp. He chuckles drily. “Go on. I enjoy jokes about my wife so much. You might want to make sure everyone here can share in the fun.”
I turn to see that Liam has the man backed against the wall, holding him by his neck. The silence that follows is thick, tense, broken only by a muffled gagging sound as Liam’s grip on the man’s throat tightens.
“Go ahead. I like a laugh.”
“Liam,” Darragh warns quietly, like he’s seen this before. “Not here. Not now.”
A moment later, Liam steps back, smoothing the front of his jacket like nothing happened. He glances at me, catching my wide-eyed stare, and smiles broadly when he discovers me down the hall. “There’s my gorgeous bride! Ready, beauty?”
My heart is a mess of terror and something else I don’t want to name. I take his arm without question, allowing him to lead me back to my family and his. I’m too busy reminding my lungs of their function to protest.
Together, we step into the magistrate’s office, which is small and unremarkable.
I can’t believe such life-altering decisions happen under fluorescent lights and water-stained ceiling tiles.
There’s a fake ficus plant in the corner and a cheap desk that’s seen better days.
I don’t have to look at my mother to feel her shame.
To know this was not the grand ceremony she would have planned. To know her heart is breaking.
I stand next to Liam, my arm brushing his.
He’s perfectly composed—relaxed even—as though everything is going just fine.
As if our worlds aren’t imploding. As if he didn’t almost choke a man to death in the hallway.
As if he isn’t lying to everyone on my behalf.
He wears that infuriating grin. I’ve come to realize it’s part of his mask.
The person underneath is far more complex than I originally gave him credit for.
Meanwhile, I feel like my skin is too tight. My heart is pounding so hard, it’s almost painful. I can’t believe this is happening, that I’m about to tie my life to his because I’ve run out of time. Because of one mistake. Because I was too trusting. Because I let myself be stupid.
And yet… I have to admit I feel better knowing it’s Liam. It’s not some stranger or another alliance picked by my father. It’s him. And it may be crazy given how short our engagement has been, but I feel like I know him. Like he knows me.
The magistrate clears his throat, glancing up from his paperwork. “We are gathered here today…” His voice drones, but each word lands like a nail being pounded into place as he reads from a script. I shift my weight and glance around the room.
No one is looking at me. Not Rafferty. Not Nolan. Not my parents. Not even Liam’s family.
I could scream that this is all wrong and they wouldn’t hear me—they wouldn’t care.
The magistrate reaches the part where he asks, “If anyone has reason why these two should not be joined, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Liam leans toward me slightly, his voice a low rumble. “Anything you want to say, beauty?”
The question rocks me harder than I expect.
He’s the only one asking. The only one who’s given me the choice—even if it’s just for show.
My family hasn’t asked for my side of the story.
They accepted Liam’s tale and never once asked me about it.
They’ve all decided this is what I deserve.
But Liam is taking the hit for me. He made up an elaborate story to protect me.
He’s standing here, letting the entire world think this was his plan when I know the truth.
He’s giving me an opportunity to voice this is all a lie if I want to. But, do I want to?
I look up into his eyes—steady, unflinching—and I shake my head. “No.”
Something flickers in his expression—approval, maybe. He reaches for my hand, sliding his warm fingers over mine.
The magistrate nods. “Then let’s proceed with the vows.”
The words sound like static as he reads them, but when Liam repeats, “I do,” my breath catches. His voice is certain as he slides the simple gold band onto my finger, like he’s already claimed me. He adds the diamond that had once felt suffocating and squeezes my fingers.
When it’s my turn, I hesitate—only for a second—before sliding the ring over his finger as I echo my vows. Then I say it, the words tumbling out soft but sure. “I do.”
When the magistrate pronounces us man and wife, making it all official, Liam turns to me. He doesn’t kiss me—not yet. He just studies me with those sharp blue eyes, like he sees every crack in my armor.
It hits me then, the weight of it. I’m married. I’m someone’s wife. I’m his.
“Thank you for having my back, Taryn,” he murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear. “I hope you trust that I’ll always have yours.”
And God help me, that’s exactly what I want—someone to have my back. Someone I can turn to. Someone who sees me, even when I’m a mess of bad decisions and fear.
He brushes his lips over mine, barely a kiss, more a promise. The touch is soft, fleeting, but it sears through me. My breath hitches, and I hate how badly I want him to do it again.
When he pulls back, there’s a glint in his eyes, something dark and certain. “We’ll figure the rest out later,” he murmurs, as if he’s already sure we will. As if I have no choice but to follow him into whatever storm is coming next. And maybe, just maybe, this time, I don’t want to fight it.