Chapter 18
Will: How’s Liv? Did you talk some sense into her?
Tate: In a manner of speaking.
Will: Care to explain?
Tate: Nope.
It was alarming how quickly the rest of the Walker clan got on board with our plan.
“You know, if you hop the border into New Hampshire, you could get married tomorrow. They don’t have a wait period like Vermont does,” Tom supplied over a carton of ice cream later that night.
“Isn’t Donny’s dad still one of the judges over there? We could call him tomorrow and see if they can’t help us out,” Ann said, thoughtfully taking a bite from her berry ice cream.
“We can’t tell them why these kids are getting married. They probably wouldn’t allow it,” Tom said.
“I just mean, he could hook them up with someone to marry them.”
It was almost eleven p.m. on a very trying day, but we were all eating various flavors of Ben and Jerry’s on the couch.
From how everyone’s day had started, the sweetness was exactly what we all needed.
Now, instead of dreaming about leaving, I sat tucked on the couch with Tate’s leg pressed against mine.
Both were exhilarating in their own right.
“But does she have all the paperwork she needs to get married?” Luke pointed at me, looking doubtful.
My heart dropped until I remembered that I did, in fact, have all the paperwork I needed.
“Will made me bring all of that when I came. I could get married, divorced, renew my license. Anything.”
“Attagirl.” Tom beamed at me.
“So, that’s basically telling us that Will has sanctioned your marriage before you even got here,” Jaxon supplied with a grin.
We all laughed. For a moment, I wondered if I should text an update to Will, but then Tate shifted on the couch, bringing us even closer together.
No.
Will started this mess. He could deal with the aftermath.
We stayed up another hour, making plans. Tate and I would drive out in the morning after chores to New Hampshire. We’d get there just after lunch, get married, and then drive home. Simple. Easy.
Absolutely zero collateral damage.
And then we lingered, the entire family talking about anything and nothing. Nobody wanted to be the first to go to bed. Everyone still seemed a little unsettled. But finally, around midnight, all the men did one last check around the house.
My bedroom was no longer a crime scene. The police had taken all the pictures and fingerprints they needed. But there was no way I was sleeping in there again. So when Tate pulled me into his room, complete with a mattress on the floor, I could only feel relief.
He pointed to the bed on the floor. “I’m sleeping right there. If you have any issues with that, tell me right now.”
“Since I’m about to marry you, you sleeping on the floor in my room is probably the least of my worries.”
“This bed’s for you,” he teased as he laid out a blanket on top of the mattress.
“I can take it,” I offered, halfway out of my bed.
“Olivia,” he growled.
“What? I can.”
“Get under your covers.”
“Fine. When you roll off that tiny bed, don’t say I didn’t offer.”
“You’re offering for me to stay in your bed with you?”
“No…to switch beds.”
“Yeah. Not interested.”
I snorted, aware of a warm glow circulating my body.
“Goodnight, Rawlins.”
Despite the dreadful day, I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face and the knowledge that Tate was only three feet away.
We pulled up to the District Court in Lebanon, New Hampshire sometime after lunch.
It was a small, red brick building with white trim, almost resembling a church, which came in handy.
Tom’s friend had pulled a few strings. He said that once our marriage license had been approved, they’d have someone there to perform the ceremony for us.
It felt like we’d had a big checklist this morning, going over everything we needed to make this happen.
Personal ID? Check.
Birth certificate? Check.
Borrowed semi-white dress from Ann? Check.
Wedding rings? After a quick stop at a department store…check.
Nerves in check? Not quite.
All my big thoughts yesterday about keeping the teasing upper hand in our relationship went completely out the window the closer we got to our 2:30 ceremony time.
“What are we going to do about the kiss part?” I asked as we made our way, dress and bags in hand, from Luke’s truck to the courthouse.
He looked over at me, amusement lining his features. “Is that all you’re thinking about, Rawlins? I’m not a piece of meat.”
“No,” I bristled, though grateful for his teasing.
He gave me a look that was all smug lips and raised eyebrows.
“It’s not. I just want to be sure we’re on the same page.”
“I’m going to kiss you. The end.”
I waited until the bolt of fire erupting down my veins at his words had dissipated before I swallowed and answered.
“Like…one second? Five seconds? Are you going to make it good? Are we trying to convince the judge of something?”
He looked mortally wounded. “I always make it good.”
“I’m not looking to get my socks knocked off over here at our impromptu courthouse wedding. I just…never mind.”
Something snagged on my dress. I slowed and saw it was Tate tugging me to a stop.
“I’m good with any way you want to play it,” he said, his eyes more serious now.
“What if I don’t know how I want to play it?”
He considered me for a long, scrutinizing moment before responding.
“Alright. How about this? I’ll read the room and respond appropriately.”
“Read the room?” I repeated.
His eyes trailed down before lifting his gaze to mine once more. “Yeah.”
There was a look on his face that I could now trace back to being the start of my wild heart’s descent into madness.
At first glance, it was sweet. But at second glance, it had an edge to it that left my mouth dry and my wits struggling to hold on. I attempted to rally.
“So, if I’m crying and screaming about things like balls and chains and how horrible my life has been to come to this point, you’ll kiss appropriately?”
A rueful smile grew on his face before he clasped his hand gently on the back of my neck and began moving us forward once more. “I’ll have to do something to shut you up.”
You see?
Madness.
Once we’d provided our documentation and were approved for our license, we went our separate ways to change our clothes. Even Tate had agreed to bring a suit, thinking the officiant might think it was strange if we didn’t at least attempt to dress up.
Since a fancy dress appropriate for a wedding hadn’t made it into my suitcase when fleeing my apartment, Ann had me borrow an old off-white dress she’d worn for a friend’s debut on Broadway.
It had long sleeves and ruffled edges and fell gracefully to my calves.
It flattered and skimmed my curves and ended up being understated in the loveliest way.
It was the perfect thing to wear for an impromptu fake wedding day.
There was a woman from the court, helping show me where to go.
She looked like the sweetest grandma, pleasantly plump, wearing a floral day dress.
Her hair was matted and curled. She smiled as she slipped me a breath mint, tucked a piece of hair back where it was supposed to go, and wished me good luck.
And all too soon, I found myself face to face with Tate Walker in a well-fitted dark suit with combed hair and bright-blue eyes currently taking me in—every last inch.
Plot Twist: A heart can, in fact, skip a beat. Who knew?
Our officiant introduced himself as Judge Thatcher. He eyed our nervous faces with humor as he teased us with well-worn marriage jokes. But it did as he probably intended: it calmed my nerves and gave me something to look at besides Tate.
We stood side by side before the judge while he spoke. My brain only picked up snippets here and there—the guilt at what we were doing warring with the need to justify it.
A new life together.
Love.
Trust.
Lasting, lifelong commitment.
Happy days ahead.
“You may face each other,” Judge Thatcher said.
I took a deep breath and turned. At the judge’s direction, Tate reached for my hands. My eyes made it as far as Tate’s chest before chickening out, dropping to the floor at my side, proving once again that my main-character energy was severely lacking.
A true heroine’s legs wouldn’t be shaking like this.
My heart pounded. I couldn’t quite pinpoint how I was feeling.
Apprehension. Anticipation. Hope? The speed at which I found myself getting married was alarming, so I wagered there was quite a bit of shock still filtering through my system as well.
He was standing here about to marry me. I forced myself to raise my eyes to look at him.
Tate was looking as calm as a summer’s morning. Maybe they had some undercover-cop/bodyguard-type training for situations like this.
This doesn’t have to be a thing.
That was how he could do this so easily. It wasn’t real.
We both knew what this was.
He had a hero’s heart, and I needed saving.
I almost convinced myself that it was my nerves, not Tate, that caused the flutters in my belly. I raised my eyes, ready to pull myself together.
And then he winked at me.
It was so slight. So sudden. So out of character for him that after the initial slip of my breath, I could almost convince myself that it didn’t happen. Except, my heart rate betrayed me, exploding from my chest and triggering a landslide of shock waves throughout my body.
“I do.”
Tate’s words, low and strong, startled me out of my thoughts. When I braved a glance up at him, I found him watching me. My breath caught as his thumb brushed ever so lightly across my knuckles, the movement bringing me back to the present. Our present. This moment we were creating together.
I couldn’t imagine anyone else standing before me right now, taking this bullet for me.
Maybe it wasn’t out of character. How well did I really know him? Maybe Tate really was the kind of guy who would wink at a girl while they were getting married on the fly. Maybe I just hadn’t seen that side of him.
Or had I?
Even I had to admit that the sight of him, standing in a dark suit, his hair tidy except for a few unruly locks falling across his forehead, was enough to make a person appreciate the idea of marriage.
I mean, if I had to agree to a sham wedding to potentially save my life and job…Tate was as good as anyone to go home with.
Better, even.
For one, he was honorable to a fault.
He came from a good family. Not that that should have meant anything to me in this situation, but someday…the person who married him for real was going to be getting an ideal in-law package.
It was then that I realized that the room had gone quiet.
My eyes flew to Judge Thatcher before I glanced back at Tate, who was watching me with some amusement. They were both waiting for my answer.
Tate may only barely tolerate me, but I found myself tolerating him quite easily.
I could laugh with him. Cry with him. Be grumpy with him.
Teasing him had become one of my favorite pastimes.
He seemed to know what I wasn’t telling him.
Maybe it was his instincts as a cop, but I didn’t have to put any fears into words.
He always seemed to know. And when I was with him, my worries underwent a spectacular disappearing act, almost vanishing completely.
That was it—the reason I could do this.
My heart, mind, and body felt irresistibly safe with him.
And for today, that was enough.
The judge cleared his throat.
“I do,” I said, startled at the way my voice sounded through the room, soft but clear.
Judge Thatcher droned on, the words we uttered binding us together for as long as we both shall live—or for as long as it took to apprehend a deranged stalker.
We fumbled through a ring exchange, where we placed questionably shiny gold rings on our fingers.
Fake or not, I couldn’t help but stare at my hand.
What it represented. The lies we were telling, yes.
But also the soft truth of who Tate was at his core.
He was marrying me to stop the bad guy. He put himself in harm’s way, not because he was assigned to the position, but because he wanted to.
I had never before felt someone so much in my corner.
The weight of that knowledge staggered me.
Soon, an ocean of affection and gratitude for this man warmed my entire body.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Tate stared down at me, his eyes no doubt taking in my flushed cheeks and jittery hands.
Those I could handle. Those were things I could easily blame on nerves. A bride on her fake-but-somehow-also-very-real wedding day had every reason to be nervous.
But then, to my utter horror, one solitary tear slipped from the corner of my eye, tracing a glistening path down my cheek.
My attempt at a stoic, unaffected facade bleeding out in front of us both.
He blinked. His expression softened as his gaze moved over my face. Then he gently released my hand and, with the softest touch, pressed away the tear with his thumb.
I stood perfectly still, afraid that if I blinked, more tears would escape. When he seemed satisfied that I was okay, he stepped closer. His hands gently framed my cheeks as he lowered his lips to mine.
The kiss was soft at first. Warm. Almost hesitant.
Like he was allowing himself to cross a line he'd spent years refusing to approach.
His hands cupped my cheeks before moving to my shoulders, lightly tracing down my arms until they found my waist. He pulled me closer, and any hesitation disappeared the moment my body pressed against his, replacing my uncertainty with something far more dangerous.
Hope.
My hands found their way to his chest, then into the hair at the nape of his neck. I couldn't get enough of his kiss. His arms. The way he held me so tightly.
Strength and power radiated from him, but Tate's lips were soft against mine, taking only what I was willing to give. There was more to him, more to this, but he read the moment perfectly and gave me exactly what I needed.
At that point, we had far exceeded the quick peck the judge and witnesses required.
But I couldn't stop.
I didn't want to.
In a matter of seconds, he had wrapped me in something warm and safe—a place I could have stayed forever. Like being covered in a blanket fresh from the dryer, I couldn't get enough.
And when it felt like he was about to pull away, I leaned closer, silently begging for just a few more seconds.
Eventually, though, all good things had to come to an end.
And ours came in the form of an amused throat-clearing from our beloved judge.
When we stepped back from each other with dazed looks, Judge Thatcher was chuckling.
“Well,” he began, “sometimes you wonder about the kids who come through, wanting a hasty marriage. I don’t know what really brought you two here, but I’m not too worried anymore.”
My face flamed with heat. And the judge wasn’t done.
“You two better go get you a room, though. Don’t bring that kind of scandalous display into my town.”
Tate and the judge were both laughing as we made our way out of the room.