fit him perfectly. Next to the beauty he had gotten me, the flat wedding band I had picked up for him just the day before looked just as cheap as my dress did, but it was the only thing I could afford. It didn’t look like he cared anyway. I watched with curious eyes as he stared down at the ring and then made a fist of the hand I’d just put the ring on, his knuckles whitening with the force of it before he took my hand again.
My attention shifted as I caught the end of the officiant’s words: “…I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
That was it? I was married? Just like that?
I looked at my now official husband and didn’t know how to react for a second. His eyes caught mine. What was a simple kiss after saying I do to a stranger, right? Thinking he was waiting to see what my move would be and wanting to get it over with so we could get the hell out of there, I was the one who took the first step. Our hands still clasped together, I avoided his eyes, rose up on my toes, and brushed a small kiss on his cheek. Just as I let go of him and was about to back up, his now free hand grabbed my wrist in a gentle hold and our eyes met.
For the sake of the few people around us, I forced another smile on my face and watched him slowly lean down to press a kiss to the edge of my mouth.
My heartbeat quickened because I thought he had lingered for a second too long, and that was a little too close and too long for comfort, but considering we were playing a part, I supposed an innocent kiss didn’t mean too much. It didn’t for me, and I was sure it definitely didn’t for him.
“Congratulations. I wish you two a happy life together.” The officiant’s voice broke us apart, and I reached for the man’s waiting hand.
As our only witness, who I knew for a fact was Jack Hawthorne’s driver, shuffled around to congratulate the man who was now my husband, I closed my eyes and willed my heart to take it easy and look on the bright side of things. This whole charade benefitted me more than it did Jack Hawthorne. It didn’t matter that I had been engaged to another man, Joshua, just weeks ago. This particular marriage to this particular man had nothing to do with love.
“Are you ready to leave?” my very real and official yet still fake husband asked, and I opened my eyes.
I wasn’t. Suddenly I was feeling all hot and cold, which wasn’t a good sign, but I met his gaze and nodded. “Yes.”
Up until we exited the building, the driver following us from a safe distance, we didn’t utter a single word to each other. Then the driver disappeared to get the car and we just stood there, watching the people around us in an awkward silence as if neither one of us knew how we’d ended up out on the street exactly. After a few moments, we both started to speak at the same time.
“We should—”
“I think—”
“We should get back,” he said firmly. “I need to be at the airport in an hour if I’m gonna make my flight.”
“Okay. I don’t want to hold you up. I’m gonna need to change first before I get back to the coffee shop, and I can easily take the subway back to my apartment. I don’t want you to get stuck in traffic just because I—”
“It’s fine,” he answered distractedly. His eyes were not on me but on the black car that had just pulled up to the curb. “Please,” he murmured, and I felt his palm briefly touch the small of my back before it was gone then he moved to open the door to the car.
Shoot!
I didn’t know him enough to argue about how I’d get home, not to mention arguing was the last thing I had in me to do. In the time it had taken us to walk outside, I had started to feel sick to my stomach with each step. As he stared at me expectantly, I tried not to drag my feet too much as I took his unspoken offer and got in the car.
When he got in after me and closed the door, I shut my eyes with the