29. Blake

CHAPTER 29

Blake

I have a pastry halfway to my mouth when Elise steps into the bakery.

“Oh, my God,” Luna breathes, standing behind the counter. “She looks so pretty.”

Pretty isn’t even the fucking half of it.

Elise looks like…a bride .

A stunning, glowing, gorgeous bride, smiling at me as she strolls across the room in a white dress that flares out at the waist and turquoise blue heels. She has a little hat on her head and a coat and purse over her arm. Her hair is done in little rolls that match her pinup style.

She looks like she’s about to marry her soldier before sending him off to the war in Europe.

Instead, she’s marrying me.

For real estate.

I instantly regret agreeing to this when Elise suggested we just go ahead and get married.

This isn’t what I want for her—a fake wedding with a fake ring.

She deserves a full-blown wedding someday with the man of her dreams tearing up at the end of the aisle when he sees her. She should have a celebration with everyone she cares about present and I feel guilty that this might take away from that.

That she’ll have to explain to a future husband why she was married to a hockey goalie for a couple of months, assuring him it meant nothing.

“Ready?” she asks me with a smile, bending down to adjust her shoe.

Her breasts threaten to spill out of her dress.

I make a sound somewhere in the back of my throat, but I don’t say anything.

“I think he’s speechless,” Luna says, clearly amused.

“I have that effect on men.” Elise stands back up. “Are you going to eat that?” She points to the pastry in my hand. “Or can I have it?”

I shove it at her. “You can have it.” Then I take a deep breath. “You look amazing. I appreciate the effort. I kind of thought you’d just wear whatever, not a white dress.”

She swipes her finger through the icing and pops it between her lips and sucks. “Nothing screams fake marriage like getting married in jeans. I don’t think any woman would ever agree to that for her actual wedding day unless she’s drunk in Vegas.”

Elise told Luna the truth about what we’re doing because she didn’t want to lie to her friend. Which I understand. But it’s also complicated. Who do we bring in on our sham marriage? Guilt is starting to claw away at my insides.

“You sure you want to do this? You can still change your mind, Sugar.”

Elise just nods. “Sure, I’m sure.”

It occurs to me I’ve never asked Elise how she feels about marriage. Maybe she thinks it’s an outdated institution. Maybe she’s not interested in marriage for real and that’s why this doesn’t seem like a big deal to her.

I could press the issue and open that discussion now.

Or I could trust that she’s an adult who offered me a solution totally without any pressure from me and I shouldn’t worry about it.

Elise doesn’t do what she doesn’t want to do.

That I do know about her.

I adjust my tie and bend down to take a bite of the pastry still in her hand.

“Blake!” she protests, laughing as she turns to protect her food from further attack. “That was half the sticky bun!”

Relieved that this is going to be okay, I press a hard smack on her lips. “Let’s go get married.”

“Good luck, you crazy kids,” Luna says.

Thirty minutes later, we’re standing in the hallway at the courthouse, waiting for the judge to call us in. We went yesterday right after talking to my grandmother and got the license. Elise is fixing her lipstick with a little mirror, and I’m struggling with the urge to pace back and forth.

I kind of feel like a dick that we haven’t told Simon and Aidan.

But Simon is on a plane to London and Aidan is at work.

Elise didn’t want to bother them when they’re working.

With something apparently as trivial as getting married.

But I also heard Simon and Aidan in Elise’s living room the other night.

They confessed their love for each other.

It was so raw and real that I felt guilty having overheard it. The moment was intended to be private, between the two of them.

Elise didn’t seem surprised.

I wasn’t either. You can see when they look at each other that those feelings go way deeper than sexual chemistry and friendship.

Hell, I’m happy for them. I hope they can work out their relationship in spite of Simon’s planned move back to London.

“Blake.”

“Yeah?” I look at Elise. I realize I’m gnawing on my thumbnail. I drop my hand and shove it in my pocket.

“Do you still want to do this?” she asks, arching her eyebrows. “You look like you’re going to pass out. It’s not real, remember?”

I stare at her, taking in her classic beauty, her delicious body, her perfect poise.

Her soft smile and her rich brown eyes.

I feel like I was just struck by a bolt of lightning.

Because I suddenly realize I want it to be real.

Holy shit, I’m in love with Elise.

Genuinely, deeply, fucking madly in love with her.

That’s why my stomach is in knots and I can’t seem to keep my leg from bouncing up and down.

I am in love with this sassy, confident, joyful woman and I want to marry her.

Not for the lake house, but for me.

To have and to fucking hold until death do us part.

I open my mouth.

The clerk steps up to us right then. “Blake Wilder and Elise Starling? We’re ready for you.”

My stomach drops to the damn floor.

I almost confessed to Elise I love her.

Which would have made this whole thing very awkward and weird.

I don’t want her to feel obligated to marry me if she knows I have deeper feelings for her than she does for me.

So I hold my hand out for her. “They’re ready for us.”

Elise gives me a grin. “I heard.”

She lets me help her to her feet and then she adjusts the cleavage of her dress with her free hand. I keep clutching her other hand, wanting to feel her skin on mine. I brush a kiss over her temple.

“When did you become so sweet?” she asks me, fondly. “Who stole my grumpy goalie?”

She did.

She stole my heart when I wasn’t looking.

“Don’t worry, I can still be a sour-faced asshole when you least expect it.” It’s light, playful.

Just banter.

Keeping it casual.

That’s what I need to do.

Even if I’m feeling anything but casual as I’m holding her hands and standing in front of a judge vowing to keep and protect her.

She’s smiling up at me and I’m studying her, searching her expression for any indication she might feel the same way as me, but she just looks like Elise—happy, confident.

“Do you, Blake, take Elise to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

Oh, fuck me, I do.

I said it. I meant it. I’m not faking a damn thing.

And now I’m in trouble.

This can only end in me being emotionally destroyed.

“Do you, Elise, take Blake to be your husband?”

“I do.”

She did.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

There is a buzzing in my ears.

My hands are trembling a little when I cup her cheeks and meet her gaze. Her lips part and her eyes go soft. She sighs when I invade her space.

Then my lips are on hers and I’m drowning.

My wife .

She is my wife.

And I’ve never been happier.

She grips the lapels of my suit jacket and gives herself over wholly into our kiss, our mouths melding, tongues lightly intertwining.

It’s the best kiss we’ve ever shared.

And I know I can’t tell her how I feel.

Because she’ll see it as a bait and switch.

She’s marrying me as a friend.

I end the kiss, nibbling lightly on her lower lip, and easing my hands down off of her soft skin.

Elise sways a little on her feet.

Her cheeks are pink.

“Wow,” she says.

“Was that sweet enough for you, Sugar?” I force myself to grin and turn back to the judge to hear the rest of what he has to say.

If I look at Elise, I’ll blurt out everything and freak her the fuck out.

The clerk says, “Congratulations,” and Elise leans against my left side, her hand still in mine.

Then we leave the courtroom married.