Chapter 10

chapter ten

Addie

As if he can feel my nerves from his chair beside me, Grant reaches out and squeezes my hand reassuringly, offering me a smile.

I'm not nervous to be meeting with my new attorney, but I am nervous about how this entire thing will go.

What if there was more to the conversation than what Earl overheard?

What if Ever After actually won't be mine? What if the whole idea with Grant won't work and all of this was for nothing?

What if… Dixon is the only option.

The thought alone sends chills shooting down my spine and anxiousness unfurling inside the pit of my stomach.

I don't think I'm prepared to hear any of those things, but I'm conditioned to expect the worst, so it wouldn't surprise me.

The door creaks open behind us, and then a man in his late fifties with midnight-black hair, a tight sports coat stretched over his protruding belly, and a kind smile appears. He rounds the desk, file in hand, and takes a seat in the chair opposite Grant and me.

"Good afternoon, Miss Arceneaux. Mr. Bergeron." He reaches out and offers his hand for me to shake before turning to Grant and doing the same. "I'm William Morrison. Again, thank you for choosing my firm to assist with your inheritance and will matters. After our conversation on the phone this morning, I was able to pull the filed copy of your mother's will."

He glances down, opening the file folder in front of him, and pulls out one of the documents inside. "I know you were concerned with the will being valid, if I'm understanding correctly?"

I nod, swallowing roughly. "I am. I think… my stepfather has somehow obtained an altered copy. Or he is possibly, um… manipulating the truth? My mother passed away when I was a kid, so I've never seen the original."

Mr. Morrison's expression morphs in surprise. "Interesting. Well, I've got the original filing here. If there are any discrepancies from what you've seen or been told, then we can absolutely address those."

"I… I think that I'm supposed to inherit my mother's bakery, Ever After, upon turning twenty-five or when I get married. Is that information correct?"

I hold my breath until my lungs burn as I wait for his response. Grant must feel me tense because he gives another reassuring squeeze of my hand, and only then do I realize that he's been holding it the entire time, offering a sense of silent strength with just his touch.

A few painful seconds tick by as Mr. Morrison scans the document in his hand, then lifts his gaze to meet mine.

He nods at me. "That seems to be correct."

My lungs deflate, a hundred different emotions cascading through my body at once. Relief, shock… betrayal . While part of me wanted to hope, another part of me thought that somehow what Earl overheard wouldn't be true and all of this would have been for nothing.

That I would still be trapped in a situation that I couldn't control.

"It appears that you inherit the property, as well as the building and assets, upon turning twenty-five or upon marrying. Whichever is first. As of now, the property remains with the executor… which I'm assuming is your stepfather. Brent Arceneaux?"

"Yes. That's my stepfather. Until now, I was led to believe the bakery was left to him."

He stares pensively at me for a moment before speaking. "Do you anticipate him contesting the will during probate?"

When my brow furrows in confusion, he adds, "Probate is the legal process of actually obtaining the asset. In your case, the bakery."

"I'm not sure, honestly. I don't think so, but it's a possibility."

Mr. Morrison nods. "We'll be prepared to defend the will if need be. There are plenty of things in place for that situation."

My mind is moving in a thousand different directions, an influx of questions that I'm trying to sort through, when Grant speaks up. "Just to clarify… There are no other requirements for Addie if she gets married before twenty-five? She'll simply inherit the property then?"

"That's correct. Pending there's no contest, then the process would be fairly simple."

So…

"If he were to try and contest it or to make false claims, what would happen?" I ask quietly.

After all of the lies and deceit from Brent, nothing would surprise me at this point, and given how I was left in the dark about this until recently, I just need to know every scenario. Good or bad. Anything that could go wrong. It feels too… easy .

I marry Grant, then I get the bakery. Just like that. I don't think that Brent's just going to… roll over and take this. If he was willing to go to the extremes to manipulate and hide so much from me, he's clearly up to something not good.

"And what do you mean by false claims?" Mr. Morrison asks as he leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the desk in front of him.

"My stepdad is probably not going to be entirely… happy about my marriage. And I wonder if he were to cause any issues to try to prevent it, maybe say that my marriage isn't valid, what would happen?

Mr. Morrison leans back, a serious expression on his face. "Ah. Well, just speaking hypothetically, your marriage would have to be legitimate and valid to satisfy the inheritance clause stated in the will. If it were proven to be… duplicitous, then he would have grounds to contest the will on the basis of fraud… but as long as the marriage is real, there shouldn't be an issue."

Turning, I drag my attention to Grant, who's nodding, before shifting it back to Mr. Morrison.

"Okay, I understand. All of this has been very helpful. Especially confirming what the will actually says. Once we're married, I just need to provide you with… what?"

"Your marriage license," he begins, pausing to scan the document once more, then looking over at us. "After your license is obtained and signed, we can begin filing a probate and moving the property over to you. I'll try and make that process as easy as I can."

My head is spinning, and my heart is thrashing in my chest as all of this truly begins to sink in.

Ever After will be mine if I marry Grant. Brent will no longer be able to manipulate and control me. All we have to do is believably get married, and he can't sell it because it'll be mine. Well… if the bank doesn't take it first.

That's an entirely different problem to tackle.

"Uh, Mr. Morrison, one more question." I pause as he nods. "Do you have access to any of the financials? Do you know how far behind the mortgage is? I just want to figure out a plan of action for when it does transfer to me, given all the monetary challenges facing the bakery."

Reaching back into the file, he begins searching through the documents inside and finally stops, then picks a paper up and scans it.

"I requested the most up-to-date bank records in preparation for a potential probate process. It appears that Ever After is in good financial standing. There's nothing showing that the mortgage payments are behind or in the red. During probate, the business will go through a more thorough investigation period, but generally, there is nothing to indicate any financial distress."

What?

My jaw falls open in shock. Grant's hand tightens, and when I glance over at him, I can see the fury written on every inch of his expression. His jaw works as he shakes his head.

He's angry for me. Brent hasn't just lied about the will; he's lied about everything . How could I have not seen this coming?

The minute I learned I'd been misled about the will, I should have questioned everything . Of course, the financials were what was forcing my hand into his marriage scheme.

Somehow, I find the words even as emotion tightens in my throat, making it hard to talk. "Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I th-think… that's all I have for now."

My voice cracks when I speak, but even as angry as I am at being lied to for so long, an even bigger part of me feels nothing but relief flooding my chest. This eliminates one huge barrier… once I get the bakery, I'm in the clear.

We say goodbye, and Grant leads me out to his vehicle, my hand still clasped tightly in his until he opens the passenger door and helps me inside.

I have so many things I want to say as he slides into the driver's seat, then pulls out onto the highway in the direction of his apartment. But… I'm still trying to process everything, to wrap my head fully around what I've learned, so instead, I gaze out the window at the vibrant city, sitting in silence with my thoughts.

Attempting to untangle the web of deceit that Brent has woven.

The ride is short and silent as Grant seems to perceive my need for quiet. By the time we get to his apartment and walk through the front door, I'm oddly… calm.

I walk over to the couch and sink down onto the cushions, thankful for the space he gave me to deal with everything in my head.

"Are you okay, Addie?" Grant asks as he sits on the coffee table in front of me, his eyes shining with concern.

"Surprisingly?" I start. "Yes." A laugh tumbles past my lips, and I realize it probably sounds a tad wild, but… I'm so relieved. "I expected to hear the worst. That… Ever After belongs to Brent, and there was no way it would ever be mine. Am I really angry that he's manipulated me for so long? Of course… but I honestly kind of feel relieved? The truth is even better than I expected. I don't have to consider marrying Dixon for money to save the bakery 'cause the money isn't actually a problem."

Grant nods. "You don't." He tugs at the collar of his button-up and begins to undo the buttons one by one until the taut, contoured muscles of his chest are on display. "Sorry, this shirt feels like it's fucking choking me."

"No, it's o-okay," I stutter nervously.

God, I have to get it together. It's just a chest.

And he's… just Grant.

"So, what do we do from here?" he asks as he flicks open the last button of his shirt. I purposefully avoid glancing down at his abs because I need my brain to work right now, and it absolutely misfires when he's involved.

For a second, I'm quiet again, chewing my lip in thought and looking anywhere but at him. Finally, I shift my eyes back to his, holding his gaze as I say, "I think… we get married?"

His eyes widen in surprise. "Yeah? You want to do this?"

Nodding, I reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I think it's the best plan. We get married and convince everyone that it's real. I get the bakery, and you sign your deal. And once the paperwork has been signed and the probate is complete… we can get it annulled."

Suddenly, this all has begun to feel more real.

I'm going to marry Grant. I'm going to own Ever After. I'm going to finally be free of Brent's hold.

It feels too good to be true.

"Okay. So that answers that. I'm in. But what about everything else? Are you going to move here? I mean… I can't imagine you want to continue to live with Brent, right? And our marriage needs to appear legit until it's done, right?"

Immediately, I shake my head. "No. Absolutely not. He's going to be angry, and so will Dixon. I can't stay there. I can move here with you if that's okay with you, but… there's one thing."

He looks confused, so I quickly add, "Auggie. My corgi."

Realization flickers in his eyes as his lips tug into a grin. "The two of you are a package, Addie. I wouldn't expect you to leave him with that asshole. Plus, I love animals."

"Okay. Good." Another question lingers in my mind, and I spit it out before I lose the courage. "Also… what if you want to be with someone else? While we're… married. I know it's not traditional, and, um… guys have needs."

That was mortifying.

Jeez, Addie. You're going to marry this guy—you have to be able to at least discuss things like this.

Grant laughs, the sound settling around the nervous flutter in my stomach as amusement dances over his features.

"That's not going to be an issue. Even if this isn't real, I'm a one-woman kind of guy, and… I have ways of taking care of my own needs."

Suddenly, it's hot in here. My palms begin to perspire as a furious blush works its way from my cheeks down my body.

Grant… Taking… Ca?—

Clearing my throat, I nod and duck my head to avoid his gaze. A second later, I feel his finger tip my chin up, dragging my gaze back to his as he studies me with a serious expression.

"There's not going to be anyone else, Addie. Period. I'm committed to this, and I promise you that."

Exhaling shakily, I nod as his gaze remains holding mine. "Okay. And, um, not that you'd need to worry about this, but… me too. No one else… So, I guess, then… it's official. We're getting married."

"Guess that means I should officially propose, then?" he asks with a cheeky smirk.

My eyes widen, almost comically so.

What does he mean… officially?

Before I can even ask, he stands abruptly from the coffee table and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a napkin in his hand. He tears a piece of it off and fashions what looks to be a… ring.

Dropping to one knee, he reaches for my hand with the newly fashioned paper ring and peers up at me. "Will you fake marry me, ArtGirl? And make me the happiest Jock in all the land?"

It's absolutely cheesy and completely ridiculous, but even so, a flurry of butterflies takes flight in my stomach as I nod.

Because I know at this moment, Grant Bergeron is the only boy I'd ever trust enough to fake marry.

He grins harder, sliding the too-big paper ring onto my finger and swiping the pad of his thumb along the top of my knuckles softly.

"It's not much, but it's all I've got right now," he says with a wink.

I shake my head. "No. It's perfect. It's more than enough."

"When should we do it?" he says, still down on one knee with my hand clasped in his. "The sooner, the better, right? How about… right now?"

"Right now ?"

He shrugs, the dimple in his cheek popping as he chuckles. "Why not? There's a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel down in the French Quarter. A buddy of mine got drunk married a few months ago, and the place was legit. We could go there. They do same-day licenses like Vegas does. We've got the details figured out, so now we just… do it."

Holy cannoli.

I'm about to get married . The thought is both terrifying and exciting all at the same time. Even if technically the marriage isn't real.

"But… I don't even have a dress," I say. "Or any of my stuff, for that matter."

Grant pushes to his feet and drops my hand as he stands. "Okay, pivoting. How about we stop somewhere in the Quarter and you pick out a dress?"

I chew my lip as I mull over the thought. One of my favorite thrift stores is in the Quarter, and I probably could find something that would be worthy enough to get fake married in. "Okay."

"Fuck. I just thought about something," he mutters, tugging at the short strands of his hair.

"What?"

"We gotta have witnesses for the license. I'm pretty sure that's how this goes? I can… probably call Davis and see if he'll do it, pending he's not hungover and still in bed. Do you have anyone who can be a witness for you?"

There are only two people who I would ever consider asking to witness a marriage, and I'm pretty sure if I didn't ask both of them to be there, they'd disown me.

"Uh… Do you think I could maybe have two?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "I don't think I can do this without them."

"Whoever you want to be there is perfectly fine with me. How about I go take a quick shower, call Davis, and throw on something to wear? Shit, what do I wear to my own wedding?" he asks, a sudden look of panic on his face.

I glance down at his very naked chest and squeak, "Clothes. Definitely clothes."

The French Quarter is one of the most magical places in the world . Not that I've seen much of the world outside of New Orleans, but it's something I just know in my soul. There is no other place like it.

It's a menagerie of charming cobblestone streets and wrought iron balconies that are adorned with flowers, beads, and century-old traditions. It's the heart of the city, full of rich culture that screams to be heard. And no one screams louder than the French Quarter.

While a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel was never a place I imagined myself getting married, I'm glad that it's here in the Quarter, in a place that will always feel like home to me.

And I realize that I probably shouldn't be nervous because our marriage is simply nothing more than an arrangement, but I can't help the swirl of butterflies in my stomach as we stand inside the small chapel.

It's quaint and undeniably charming. The inside resembles an old church, with vintage wooden pews that have small floral arrangements fashioned along the ends that face the aisle. Arched, stained glass windows line the walls, each pane a prism of light that paints the pews, walls, and small podium in the front in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors.

I would imagine that there are far worse places to be married.

"Are you… sure this is what you want to do, cher? Absolutely sure?" Amos lowers his voice, whispering quietly.

Without hesitation, I nod. "Yes. I promise, I'm okay with this. This is what I want to do," I tell him as I reach out and lace my fingers in his, squeezing gently. "Thank you for being here. Both of you. I couldn't imagine doing this without you."

I look between Amos and Earl, and an overwhelming sense of peace hits me directly in the chest because I truly don't know where I would be without them. They're the only family I've ever known after I lost my mom. The only ones who have loved me unconditionally, through every season of my life.

"We just want you to be happy. Whatever that means, Addie," Earl retorts gruffly. This big, burly man who's never been one for emotion suddenly has unshed tears in his eyes, mirroring the fresh ones shining in mine.

"You know we'll always be here to stand by your side, cher. Always . To support any decision you make," Amos says.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him in a fierce hug.

When I pull back, I suck in a shaky breath and smile. "This is just an arrangement between Grant and I, but I'm okay, and I'm ready to do this. I'll be able to save Ever After, and honestly? He's my friend. One of the only people outside of you that I trust. He's a really good guy."

I can still see the look of concern on their faces and the hesitation in their eyes, but I'm making the right decision. I can feel it in my gut.

Grant's the right choice.

I'm getting married today, and it doesn't at all feel like the death sentence it would have been had this happened differently. I'm not afraid, or disgusted, or despondent at the prospect of marrying Grant. Not the way I was when I thought I would be in this exact scenario with Dixon.

"Cher, you look like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Amos says, reaching out and brushing his fingers along my sleeves. He's wearing his best suit, with the most gorgeous array of colorful jewelry, and as always, I love his style.

I thought of him when I picked out this dress.

The vintage, cream-colored A-line dress I found in the thrift store is simple yet timelessly elegant. I knew it was the one the moment that I laid eyes on it. It's not a wedding dress, but it's perfect for… this. It has a square neckline with puff sleeves and falls below my knees in a soft linen material.

It's me, and it's perfect.

"Your husband-to-be is very handsome, you know. I'm not sure if you've stopped to notice that fact yet," Amos muses, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just sayin'."

My brow arches as I peer past him at Grant, who's standing in the front of the chapel, talking with the officiant and his friend Davis.

I'm very much aware of his handsome face, and it's concerning. For more reasons than I am ready to dive into moments before I'm supposed to marry him.

He's wearing a pair of black slacks, with a starched white button-down that he's rolled at the sleeves, showing off veiny, corded forearms that would make nearly any woman drool.

Which is why I am not, in fact, checking him out from across the chapel.

"Nope, I hadn't noticed at all, actually," I say, dragging my gaze back to the both of them and shaking my head.

I don't make it a habit of lying, but they don't need to know it's the only thing I've been able to think about since he walked out of his bedroom, wearing a smile that made my heart beat twice as fast.

Nope. No one needs to know that, which is why I'm keeping it to myself.

"You ready, Addie?" Grant calls from the front of the chapel, and I nod, offering him a small smile.

I'm ready to become… Mrs. Grant Bergeron.