Chapter Nine
“WHERE DO YOU THINK you’re going?”
The words hit her back like bullets, and Andie’s whole body jerked to a stop.
No, no, no.
She couldn’t turn around. If she turned around, she would see his face. And if she saw his face—
“Andromeda.”
Just her name. Nothing else. But the way he said it—raw, ragged, like it had been ripped from somewhere deep inside him—
She turned around.
And immediately wished she hadn’t.
Paul stood ten feet away, chest heaving, his perfectly tailored tuxedo slightly askew from the chase. His copper hair had fallen across his forehead, and his gray eyes—
Oh, those eyes.
They were storms. Hurricanes. The kind of weather that destroyed everything in its path and left you standing in the wreckage wondering how you’d survived.
She started shaking.
She started crying.
Again.
Still.
She couldn’t seem to stop, the tears streaming down her cheeks in hot tracks that probably destroyed whatever was left of her makeup. She opened her mouth to explain, to apologize, to say something—anything—
But all that came out was a broken sob.
“Why are you leaving me?”
His voice was hoarse. Shattered. Nothing like the smooth, controlled billionaire who had tracked her through a library and kissed her senseless in the back of his limo.
This was something else.
Someone else.
Someone who looked like he was watching his whole world walk away.
All she could do was shake her head, the words trapped somewhere between her heart and her throat.
I’m sorry.
I’m so, so sorry.
“Is it because you realized you can’t pretend?”
He took a step toward her, and she took a step back. Her heel caught on the hem of her dress—his dress, the beautiful dress he’d given her—and she stumbled, catching herself against the wall.
“Is that it?” Another step. His voice cracked on the words. “You realized you can’t pretend you’re in love with me?”
No. Oh no. God, no.
The pain in his eyes was too much.
It cracked something open inside her, something she’d been trying so hard to keep contained, and suddenly the words were spilling out before she could stop them.
“It’s the other way around.”
Paul froze.
“It’s...” Andie’s words caught in a sob.
“I don’t understand—”
“I just realized m-marriage for me is f-forever—”
“And you think it’s not for me?”
“M-Marriage is s-sacred—”
“What the hell are you really saying?”
He stared at her, his beautiful face completely unguarded for perhaps the first time since she’d met him.
“If I m-marry you—”
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Could only feel the truth rising up inside her like a tide she’d been holding back for days.
“I d-don’t want to pretend.”
The words hung between them, fragile and terrifying.
“I w-want to really t-try f-falling—”
“Then do it.”
Her head jerked up.
Paul had moved closer while she was spiraling, and now he stood directly in front of her, close enough that she could see the rapid pulse beating at the base of his throat. Close enough that she could count the individual lashes framing those devastating gray eyes.
“W-What—” The word came out strangled.
“If you want to try falling in love with me...then go ahead and do it.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
And then, slowly, like a man approaching something wild and easily spooked, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away her tears with a gentleness that made her chest ache.
“All good now?”
A helpless laugh escaped her, but this quickly turned into a sob.
“I don’t know,” she choked out. “Do you really mean—”
“Yes.”
Please, God. Please. Please be with me.
Thirty minutes later, they were married.
The ceremony itself passed in a blur of formal words and trembling hands and a ring that Paul produced from his pocket—when had he gotten a ring?—that fit her finger like it had been made for her.
Which, knowing him, it probably had.
Harry and Star cried buckets while their husbands strongly insisted that they just had something in their eye.
And through it all, Paul had never let go of her hand.
Not once.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Texas,” the judge intoned, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Husband and wife.
The words felt surreal. Like something from a dream she might wake up from at any moment.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Paul turned to face her, and Andie’s breath caught at the expression on his face. He looked... undone. Wrecked. Like a man who had just survived something he hadn’t been sure he would.
He cupped her face in his hands, the same way he had in the hallway, the same gentle possessiveness—and slowly lowered his head.
And in his eyes, just before his mouth covered hers, and she let herself fall into his kiss—
Just for one moment, she had seen in his eyes...
The same thought she was thinking.
The same fear she was feeling.
If marrying each other felt so terrifyingly right...
Why did it also feel like they were in danger of losing each other?