I did this.”
I rolled my eyes, hugging Stevie, then kissing Rabbit before following them both inside. We’d already filled out the form online and printed it off, so all we had to do was pay the fee and then Doom would perform the ceremony tonight with everyone in attendance. Of course, it appeared as though no one wanted to wait for tonight, as there were at least fifty bikers milling around waiting for us.
“You okay?” Rabbit asked, squeezing my hand.
“It’s family.” I could feel my cheeks heating, but I smiled and nodded, lowering my head so my hair could fall forward. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”
“Don’t hide, baby. I got you.”
I raised my head and leaned against him, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”
My parents were standing with Levi and they smiled big, my mom pulling me in for a hug.
“Are you sure you’re not mad?” I asked her.
She cupped my cheeks. “Baby girl, your dad and I love you no matter what. It’s your day, your choice. If I had to do it all over again, I’d have eloped with your dad and told my parents to suck it.”
I giggled. “I love you, Mom.”
“That does not mean you’re getting out of me helping you find a dress for the big party,” she warned.
“I would never,” I assured her.
“My turn,” Dad said, pulling me in for a hug. “Proud of you, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“Did I miss it?” Quinlan cried as she rushed in, dragging Badger behind her.
“No, we’re still waiting to file the license,” I said, hugging her.
“Oh, good!”
“Number twenty-four!” an agent called, and Rabbit led me to the counter.
The woman looked at him, then me, and shrugged and I tried not to laugh. I’m not surprised she seemed confused, considering my jumpsuit cost over five-hundred bucks, and Rabbit was in his signature jeans, T-shirt, and cut. I loved every second of our odd-couple appearance.
Everything was very quick and no-nonsense. We paid the fee, recorded the license, then Rabbit informed me we were going to do the ceremony now and I groaned. “I had a feeling something was up.”
“Doom figured we’d do it here, get it officially recorded, then we can party tonight.”
I gripped his cut. “Were you afraid I might back out?”
“Pleadin’ the fifth on that one as well,” he retorted.
I smiled. “I love you, Zane, you’re stuck with me now and not just legally.”
He cocked his head. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Doom said, smacking Rabbit’s shoulder.
We filed out of the courthouse and around the side where there were more trees and less concrete, and I couldn’t help but notice that Sloan DeMille was there, camera in hand, chatting with Quin.
“Is that Sloan DeMille?” I asked.
“Yeah. She’s gonna take some pictures.”
“Of us?”
“Yes,” he said.
“How the hell did you get Sloan DeMille to take our picture?” I demanded.
She was the Annie Leibovitz of Savannah and in high demand and not just as a photographer. She’d started in the industry as a plus-sized model and she had a whole line of clothing and lingerie catering to women of all sizes.
She was also expensive.
Rabbit shrugged. “Quin knows her.”
I tugged on Rabbit’s hand to get him to stop walking. “What do you mean, ‘Quin knows her?’ People don’t simply know Sloan DeMille, Zane. They worship her, work for her, or admire her from afar while jacking off to one of her posters.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You jacked off to one of her posters?”
I snorted. “I plead the fifth, and for your information, the correct legal term for female masturbation is jilling off, honey. Get it right.”
He dropped his head back and laughed. “Jesus Christ, I love you.”
I bit my lip. “Is she really going to shoot our wedding photos?”
“Yeah.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“What?”
“Shut it down, Rabbit,” I begged. “Right now. I am not letting Sloan DeMille photograph me on my wedding day when I don’t have a proper dress.”
“Not happenin’.”
I swallowed compulsively. “Okay, thank you.”
“No, you misunderstand,” he said. “She’s shooting us right here, right now, then she’ll also shoot us in twelve days when you have a proper dress.”
I threw my hands in the air. “But I look like—”
“Don’t you dare fuckin’ finish that sentence,” he growled. “Unless you’re going to say you look like a fuckin’ cover model.”
I let out a frustrated squeak. “I’m just saying that if I knew it was Sloan DeMille, I would have dressed in something… well, fancier.”
“Baby, you look amazing,” he said. “You’re fuckin’ sexy as hell