Chapter 24
FREYA
Iwake up to the unfamiliar but wonderful sensation of Ben’s arm around my waist. For a moment, I lie perfectly still, afraid that moving will break whatever spell has transformed my life overnight.
It wasn’t a dream. Ben is really here, sleeping in my bed, his face peaceful in sleep. His hair is messed up, and there’s a slight smile on his lips even though his eyes are closed. He looks younger somehow, like the stress and careful control he usually carries have melted away.
The ring on my finger catches what little light filters through my curtains—not the engagement ring we picked out for show, but the one I fell in love with the first time we went shopping together. The one I told him to save for a real proposal.
I can’t believe this is real.
I can’t believe that after fifteen years of loving him in secret, of convincing myself he’d never see me as more than a friend, we’re here. Together. Really together.
“You’re staring at me,” Ben murmurs without opening his eyes, his voice rough with sleep.
“Maybe.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to confirm that last night actually happened and I didn’t dream the whole thing.”
He opens his eyes then, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes my heart skip. “It happened. All of it.”
“We’re really getting married today.”
“We’re really getting married today.” He leans over to kiss me, soft and sweet and perfect. “Good morning, future Mrs. Lawlor.”
“Good morning, future Mr. Hull-Lawlor.”
“Hull-Lawlor?”
“You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.”
Ben laughs, and the sound fills me with so much joy I think I might burst. This is what I’ve been missing all these months of fake dating and staged romance—the easy happiness, the natural connection that doesn’t require performance or calculation.
“What time is it?” he asks, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.
“Don’t look. I don’t want to think about schedules or timelines or any of the wedding logistics yet.”
“Freya, we’re getting married in…” He checks his phone anyway and sits up abruptly. “Six hours!”
“Don’t panic.”
“I’m not panicking. I’m just processing. Six hours from now, you’ll be my wife.”
“Six hours from now, you’ll be my husband.”
We look at each other for a moment, both of us probably thinking the same thing—that this time yesterday, we were resigned to a fake marriage that would end in divorce. Now we’re about to promise each other forever, and we actually mean it.
“I should probably go home and get ready,” Ben says, though he makes no move to leave the bed. “Carson and Michelle will have complete breakdowns if I’m not where I’m supposed to be at the appointed time.”
“Probably. But also…” I trace patterns on his chest with my finger. “You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding. It’s bad luck.”
“I think we’ve already had all the bad luck we’re going to get. We spent months, no years, lying to ourselves about how we felt.”
“True. But I still want to kick you out so I can get ready properly. I want you to see me walking down that aisle and remember this moment for the rest of our lives.”
Ben captures my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I’m going to remember everything about today for the rest of our lives.”
“Good. Now get out of my apartment so I can transform into a bride.”
“Bossy already, and we’re not even married yet.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, Lawlor.”
He gets dressed while I watch from bed, wrapped in my robe and already missing the warmth of him next to me. It’s ridiculous—he’s leaving for a few hours, not forever—but after years of wanting him and thinking I couldn’t have him, I don’t want to let him out of my sight.
“I’ll see you at the altar,” he says, leaning down to kiss me goodbye.
“Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
After he leaves, I lie in bed for exactly five more minutes, savoring the lingering scent of his cologne on my pillow and the reality that this is my wedding day. My real wedding day, to the man I’ve loved for half my life.
Then I spring into action.
I shower, wash my hair, and carefully apply the face mask the aesthetician recommended for wedding day glow.
While it’s setting, I pack a bag with everything I’ll need at the venue—makeup, hair accessories, comfortable shoes for after the ceremony, and the jewelry Bella helped me pick out weeks ago.
My phone buzzes with a text from Bella: “Where are you??? We’re supposed to be at the venue in an hour for hair and makeup!”
I text back: “On my way. And Bella? I have news.”
“Good news or bad news?”
“The best news.”
An hour later, I’m in the bridal suite at the estate, being fussed over by a team of professionals who are transforming me into a bride.
The hair stylist is working on an elaborate updo while the makeup artist perfects my foundation, and Bella is pacing around the room in her maid of honor dress, demanding to know what my mysterious good news is.
“You’re killing me with suspense,” she says for the third time. “Just tell me already.”
“Wait until they’re done with my face,” I say, trying not to move my lips too much while the makeup artist applies lipstick. “I don’t want to ruin their work by crying happy tears.”
“Happy tears? Freya, you’re being ridiculous. Just—”
“There,” the makeup artist says, stepping back to admire her work. “Perfect. Just let me set everything with some powder, and you’ll be ready for hair accessories.”
I wait until the makeup artist and hair stylist are out of the room, and my sister and I are alone. “Ben and I are really together now.”
She stares at me blankly. “What do you mean really together? You’ve been together for months.”
“No, I mean really together. He came to my apartment last night and told me he loves me. He proposed—actually proposed, with the ring I originally wanted. The whole fake engagement thing is over. This wedding is real now.”
Bella’s mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”
“Completely serious. He’s been in love with me for years, apparently. We’re both idiots who were too scared to admit how we felt.”
“Oh my God!” Bella shrieks, loud enough that everyone in the room turns to look at us. “Oh my God, Freya, this is incredible!”
She pulls me into a hug that’s probably going to wrinkle my robe and mess up my hair, but I don’t care. Having my sister’s excitement and support makes this moment even more perfect.
“I knew it,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “I knew he had feelings for you. The way he looked at you at that family dinner, the way he talked about you… Nobody fakes that level of devotion.”
“We almost ruined everything by being too scared to tell each other the truth.”
“But you didn’t. You figured it out in time.” Bella wipes tears from her eyes, careful not to smudge her own makeup. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve this, Freya. You deserve someone who loves you the way Ben does.”
The next hour passes in a blur. When I finally put on my dress—the same dress I cried in yesterday, but for completely different reasons—I feel like a real bride for the first time.
“You look perfect,” Bella says, helping me with the buttons. “Ben is going to die when he sees you.”
“Good. That’s the plan.”
Through the windows of the bridal suite, I see guests arriving and taking their seats in the garden. The ceremony setup is even more beautiful than I imagined—white chairs arranged in neat rows, flowers everywhere, a string quartet tuning their instruments in the corner.
“It’s time,” the wedding coordinator says, appearing in the doorway. “Are we ready?”
“We’re ready.”
The walk from the bridal suite to the garden feels like it takes forever and no time at all. My father is waiting for me at the edge of the ceremony space, looking handsome and emotional in his tuxedo.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, offering me his arm. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready for fifteen years.”
The string quartet begins the processional music, and suddenly everything becomes real. This is happening. I’m about to walk down this aisle and marry Ben, and it’s not fake. Every word we say will be true.
I can see him waiting for me at the altar, and even from a distance, the sight of him takes my breath away. He’s wearing a charcoal gray suit, but somehow he looks different—more relaxed, more genuinely happy than I’ve seen him in months.
When our eyes meet, he smiles, and I can see him mouth the words, “You’re beautiful.”
The walk down the aisle feels like a dream.
I’m vaguely aware of our guests—friends and family who think they’re witnessing the culmination of a fairy tale romance, not knowing they’re actually seeing the beginning of our real love story.
I smile at their presence, but all my attention is focused on Ben, waiting for me with an expression of wonder and love that I know is completely genuine.
When my father places my hand in Ben’s, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Hi,” Ben whispers, just for me.
“Hi.”
The ceremony itself is a blur of beautiful words and meaningful moments. Ben’s vows make me tear up, my chest swelling with an amount of love I used to think was impossible to feel.
When it’s my turn, I speak from the heart about the boy who became my best friend and the man who became my everything.
I promise to love him not just in the easy moments but through all the challenges life will bring us.
I promise to be his partner, his supporter, his person for the rest of our lives.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Illinois,” the officiant says finally, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ben, you may kiss your bride.”
And he does, soft and sweet and full of promise, while our guests cheer and the photographer captures the moment that transforms us from fake fiancés to real spouses.
Later, during the reception, Red and Marnie Dawson approach us at our table, both of them beaming with happiness.
“Congratulations,” Red says, shaking Ben’s hand warmly. “That was one of the most beautiful ceremonies I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Thank you,” Ben replies. “It means a lot to have you both here.”
“It means a lot to be here,” Marnie adds, hugging me carefully so she doesn’t wrinkle my dress. “You two are clearly meant for each other.”
“Actually,” Red says, pulling a folded document from his jacket pocket, “we have something for you. Consider it a wedding gift.”
Ben takes the papers, and I watch his face change as he reads. His eyes widen, and he looks up at Red with something like shock.
“This is the land contract,” Ben says slowly.
“Signed and notarized,” Red confirms with a grin. “Marnie and I decided we couldn’t think of a better wedding present than securing your future together. You two clearly have something special, and we want to be part of helping you build the life you deserve.”
I feel Ben’s hand tighten around mine under the table. This deal—the whole reason we started this charade in the first place—is finally complete. But now it feels like a bonus rather than the main event, because we already have everything we really wanted.
“Red, I don’t know what to say,” Ben manages. “This is… incredible. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Marnie says with a laugh. “Wait until you see how demanding Red can be as a business partner. He’s going to want updates on every turbine, every maintenance schedule, every efficiency report.”
“I’ll take that challenge gladly,” Ben says, standing to shake Red’s hand again. “This means everything to us.”
After Red and Marnie move on to mingle with other guests, Ben and I sit for a moment in stunned silence.
“We did it,” I say finally. “The deal you wanted, the marriage we both needed… we actually did it.”
“No,” Ben says, bringing my hand to his lips. “We got something better than what we planned for. We got each other, for real this time.”
The rest of the reception is gone too soon.
We dance to songs that actually mean something to us now, instead of performing for cameras.
We laugh with our families and friends, accepting congratulations that feel genuine because our happiness is genuine.
We cut the cake, make toasts, and pose for photos that will hang in our home instead of just appearing in magazines.
When the last guest finally leaves and we’re alone in the bridal suite, still in our wedding clothes but with our shoes kicked off and my hair starting to escape its elaborate styling, Ben pulls me close.
“So, Mrs. Lawlor,” he says, “how does it feel?”
“Perfect,” I say, and for the first time in months, I mean it completely. “Everything about today was perfect.”
“Even the part where Red nearly gave me a heart attack by pulling out that contract during dinner?”
“Especially that part. Did you see his face when he handed it to you? He was so proud to surprise us.”
“He has no idea he was giving us the perfect ending to the strangest love story ever told.”
“Strange, maybe. But ours.”
Ben spins me around the empty suite, my dress flowing around us. When he sets me down, we’re both laughing, both glowing with the kind of happiness that comes from finally being exactly where you belong.