Chapter 3 Courthouse Stairs

Magnum

It rained that day. Rain in this part of Southern California was rare, but on the day my brother had picked to get married, the sky decided to drop some serious precipitation.

The collar of my suit jacket scratched against my neck and the pants constricted my blood flow, but after his big give me a chance speech at the engagement party, I owed it to him to look presentable while I showed my support for his union.

The security clearance was a joke, and I walked through with my weapon in my pocket. The lobby bustled with people wandering around trying to find their way in the courthouse.

No sign of my brother or his beautiful Asian bride with soulful eyes.

Upstairs in the public records office, the clerk pointed me toward a room designated for wedding ceremonies. A gaggle of couples waited outside, but none of them were Gavin and Wren.

The scene reminded me of intake in the military. Pointless waiting only to get some formal stamp on a piece of paper. They all looked nervous before the ceremony, bickering or doom scrolling on their phones. They'd get called in and disappear for fifteen minutes with a few friends and family, and they'd come out smiling with their shiny new rings. They took pictures they'd never look at again to mark the moment in time they were irrational enough to believe it could last till death.

The wedding concept was the biggest farce ever perpetrated on our society. Love was an illusion. More than half of these couples wouldn't make it a few years into marriage. Yet they were lined up around the corner, all of them spinning the wheel of luck hoping they'd be the half that would make it. Their lawyers would be fighting over who got to keep the ugly photos they had taken that day.

After about twenty minutes of watching disgusting displays of false hope and empty promises, I asked the clerk what time the Beaumont ceremony was scheduled for.

"Twenty minutes," she said. "No late exceptions."

Where were they?

I searched the whole place for them then determined they must've been outside, possibly looking for me. The sun had broken through, and the rain had stopped. The reflection off the wet pavement blinded me briefly as I scanned the area in front of the building.

Nothing.

I sent Gavin a text.

Me: Where the fuck you at?

Me: Where's Wren?

Me: Fucker

A tiny whimper pulled my attention from my phone. Across the plaza, in a stone stairwell, I caught a glimpse of black hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of a woman's head .

A sheer lavender shawl covered her bare shoulders and tears streaked her face as she crouched on the steps. It was her.

"Wren?"

She gasped and sat up straight. She looked hopeful at first, but she narrowed in on my face and then her mouth broke into a trembling grimace. "You're not him."

True. True. I was definitely not him.

She clutched a disheveled bouquet of carnations and baby's breath wrapped in clear plastic. Looked like the cheap flowers you'd get at a gas station.

The rain had stained her off-white dress making it appear silver. Gavin's tiny ring was still on her finger.

Gavin didn't show.

What a total ass.

Predictable, but still. He'd dragged her into his shenanigans this time, and now she sat crying in a stairwell in Beverly Hills.

"Go away," she muttered.

I deserved that. I had not been friendly to her when I'd first met her, but she was low now, and I wasn't that much of a sadist.

"Wanna get drunk?" Not my most graceful line, but it might've worked at least to make her laugh a little.

She glared at me over her shoulder through blotchy tear-stained eyes.

I had nothing else. No idea what to say to this girl who was clearly being stood up on her wedding day.

She smacked the flowers onto the steps. "We have to get married today. We have to. He has to show up. "

Okay now. What the hell? Something was definitely wrong if she "had to get married" to Gavin of all people.

"He's still coming," she said, mostly to herself.

"He ain't comin'." I softened my voice to lessen the blow.

"Be quiet! Don't say that." She bent over her knees and wept, shoulders heaving with her deep breaths.

I was at a total loss for words. Unusual for me because I usually knew what to say to a woman, even if she was crying. Normally I'd say this was your own damn fault or what the hell were you thinking, but I knew that wasn't right either.

I took a step closer and crouched down beside her. "Why do you need to get married today?"

"We have to!"

"Why?"

"He's still coming."

"He ain't comin', sweetheart. Why do you need to get married today?"

"We just do." She dropped her flowers and flopped down onto the step, getting more of her dress wet. Her hair that had fallen out of her bun trailed in the water.

We repeated the exact same conversation again, but she wouldn't divulge any information, and she was crying too hard to keep interrogating.

"I have the papers signed." She lifted up a manilla envelope with soggy corners. "We just need the ceremony, and we're married. He'll be here!"

"You aren't gonna tell me why you're so hell-bent on today?"

"No." She shook her head and slouched over again.

I could guess enough from what I was seeing. She was in trouble, and Gavin had promised her that getting married would solve it, whatever it was. This was his mess. Not mine.

He was the one who caused her to be crying in the rain, desperate and alone. I hated that for her. She probably had big ideas of what her wedding day was going to be like, and Gavin came along and lied to her.

I would make him pay for this when I caught up to him, but right now, something needed to be done. That was what Special Forces was all about. You see the need and you do it. My brother needed me to clean up another one of his messes, and I was going to do it. No doubt. Like I always did.

"I'll stand in." The words came out shaky at first.

"What?" Her head came up a little and she froze.

"I'll stand in for him," I said more firmly. "We gotta go now. Your time is up. I'll stand in for him." We needed to get this done quickly before I changed my mind.

"But you don't even like me." She sniffled and wiped her cheeks, now turning to fully face me for the first time. Aww, man. Her dress was pretty in the front. Embroidered lace up to her collar bones, nothing provocative. Very classy.

Gavin was a total idiot.

"You aren't marrying me. You're already married to him. You said it. You just need the ceremony part. I'll stand in for him, and you deal with him later. I'll sign his name."

"That's crazy. They'll know you're not him."

"Worth a shot." I shrugged.

"Why would you do that?"

To protect you. To give me time to find out what kind of trouble my brother dragged you into with his crypto. I leaned in closer so we could make eye contact. She sure had pretty eyes, and she looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even all disheveled and wet.

"I don't know why he's not here. I'm sure he has a good reason." If he didn't, I was going to pound his face and give him a reason to cry. "We'll find out the whole story someday. But if he knew you were sitting on the steps of the Beverly Hills Courthouse crying in the rain in your pretty dress, your face all twisted in pain, I'm sure he'd want me to stand in for him today."

"Really?" Her fingertips struggled with loose strands of hair over her eyes.

"I'm sure of it. And he'd thank me for it later so he didn't miss out on a chance to seal the deal with a woman as beautiful as you."

Her lips twisted into a shy smile, and her eyes brightened with hope. She didn't talk much, but I was learning to read the little tells on her face. "You think we have time?"

"We might be a few minutes late. I'll talk them into giving us our moment with the justice of the peace." I stood up and offered her my hand.

She stared at it for a long time. She'd stopped crying at least, so I'd done something right. "Okay." Delicate, cold fingers gripped my hand loosely. It felt good to give her some warmth from my touch. Her skin was a light brown sugar compared to my dark molasses as I helped her up the steps.

We gathered her things and walked back into the courthouse toward the clerk and the room marked for ceremonies.