Offside Bride (Toronto Titans #2)

6. Sawyer

6

SAWYER

E veryone’s thinking it but nobody wants to say it out loud.

She’s not coming.

I can see Owen surreptitiously checking the time on his phone, and Bruce, tilting his wrist to glance at his smart watch. Hannah and Emily are trying to act like they’re busy fluffing the tulle or the flowers for the thousandth time. Hendrix is outright sleeping.

I sweep my gaze over to Griffin. He’s the only one with worry written all over his face. His eyebrows twitch as he catches me looking at him, then he gets up and paces.

We’re gathered at Hannah’s house—just me, the judge, and the few people who know this is all a sham. I was fine going down to the courthouse for this, but Hannah said it would be easier to set up the green screens and camera equipment at her house. Apparently, she’s a wiz at Photoshop and can create the illusion of a blissful wedding, followed by a honeymoon in Niagara.

I brought four changes of clothing for the photoshoot. The suit I’m wearing, some jeans and T-shirts, and a casual button down I was told would probably get wet.

There’s a huge fan off to the side, which Hannah says will make it look like we’re caught in the wind.

The judge taps his fingers impatiently on the hardback cover of his officiant’s book. The wedding was supposed to start over a half-hour ago.

I feel like an idiot.

Everyone’s on edge, but when I take a look at Emily, I notice something a little off with her. Like she knows something.

I run a hand over all the product keeping my ponytail in place, trying to keep my cool. This is fine. Everything’s fine. I'm only about to be left at the altar of my fake wedding.

The judge shifts his weight, looking incredibly uncomfortable. I can’t blame him. Who wants to officiate a wedding where the bride’s a no-show?

The universe is laughing at me, I'm sure of it.

“Well,” the judge says, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer.”

“Look,” I say, plastering on my most convincing smile. “How about we sweeten the deal? I’ll throw in some tickets to our next game. Best seats in the house.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Son, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a tee time in an hour.”

Just as I’m about to offer him my firstborn (not that I have one), I catch Emily’s eye. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her dress then quickly averts my gaze.

“All right, spill it,” I say, making my way over to her. “What’s got you looking like you just kicked a puppy?”

“I would never kick a puppy!”

“I got this,” Owen says, blocking me from his wife. “Emily? You know something, don’t you?”

Emily’s face flushes. “Who, me?”

“Doesn’t Maggie live with you?” Hannah asks. “Why didn’t she carpool with you guys?”

“She wasn’t ready when I left. And I had to pick up the deli spread.”

“Which I appreciate,” Griffin says.

“Why do we need a deli spread?” snaps Bruce.

“What’s a wedding reception without a deli spread?” Emily replies innocently.

“It’s a FAKE wedding!” I cry. Then, remembering the Judge’s presence, I take a mental note to slip him a few extra bills for his confidentiality.

“Emily, love.” Owen says gently, “What do you know that you’re not telling us?”

He brushes his fingers over her jawline, and she just about melts under his touch. If only that were all it took for Maggie to comply with me.

“I…might have talked to Maggie last night,” Emily confesses. “I sort of told her she didn’t have to go through with it if she didn’t want to!”

She totally caved. A chorus of groans fills the room. Even Hendrix wakes up to join in the groaning.

“Emily!” Hannah exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“What?” Emily cries, looking around defensively.

I fight the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Well, that explains why my blushing bride is MIA.”

“I didn’t want her to feel pressured!”

“Pressured?” I repeat, incredulous. “It’s not like we’re asking her to donate a kidney.”

Owen sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Em, I love you, but sometimes your empathy is a bit…misplaced.”

“I was just trying to be a good friend!” Emily protests.

Before anyone can respond, the front door flies open with a bang that nearly gives me a heart attack.

There, in all her tardy glory, stands Maggie, looking bored and aloof.

“Sorry I’m late but,” she announces, breezily. “I didn’t want to be here.”

“Well, isn’t that just peachy?” I say, even as I lay my eyes on the Venus in stilettos standing before me. She’s the kind of beautiful that makes you forget how to breathe, and right now, I’m pretty sure my oxygen is dangerously low.

She’s stunning in a simple cream wrap-around dress. The kind that falls to the floor in a cascade of fabric with one pull of the sash—the only thing keeping it on her body. She glares over me up and down. “Hello, Sawyer.”

I smirk. “Glad you could grace us with your presence, sweetheart. I was starting to think you’d come to your senses.”

Maggie narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t tempt me. I just couldn’t decide which outfit would best compliment my look of disdain.”

“Well, you nailed it. The ‘I’d rather be anywhere else’ vibe is really working for you.”

Maggie plants her palm on her cocked hip. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” I quip. “Though I’m not surprised you’d try to crush my hopes.”

She shoots me a look that could melt ice. “Oh please, like you have hopes beyond your next beer.”

“You wound me.” I clutch my chest dramatically. “And here I thought we were getting along.”

“Oh, shut up and let’s get this over with. I’ve got a date with a lobotomy later so I can forget this whole disaster.”

“What? We’re not spending our wedding night feeding each other cake and watching hockey highlights?”

“In your dreams.”

I wink at her. “Every night, darling.”

The judge looks between us, utterly bewildered. “Are…are we still having a wedding?”

I’m practically in Maggie’s face as say, “We can hardly wait. Isn’t that right, sunshine?”

She doesn’t take her death glare off me. “How could I possibly resist such a charmer?”

“S-s-so…that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes, that’s a yes,” says Bruce. “Everyone in your positions. Hannah? Where do you want them?”

Hannah leaps into action, corralling Maggie and me across the room. “Okay, so we’re selling this as an intimate ceremony with only close friends. You didn’t want the public to know, okay? But now that it’s out there, we’ll post some photos for the fans.”

She waves the judge over in front of the green screen. “It will go on Sawyer’s official social media accounts even though he doesn’t manage them himself.”

“I have social media accounts?”

“You know this,” says Bruce.

Hannah nudges us in front of the Judge. “I’ll insert images of a beautiful chapel. And then for the honeymoon photos, I’ll make it look like Niagara Falls. Trust me, it will be great.”

Maggie snorts. “Can you make it look like Sawyer’s falling into the waterfall?”

“If you want to take a shower with me, sweetcheeks, why don’t you just say so?” I say, flashing Maggie a quick wink.

“Just shut up and marry me, or I swear…”

The judge clears his throat, probably wondering if he’s officiating a wedding or refereeing a hockey match.

“Dearly beloved,” he begins, clearly eager to get to his golf game.

I tune out most of his words, focusing instead on Maggie’s face. The way she casts her eyes down, her lashes fluttering across her cheeks. The way she bites her bottom lip. She’s doing her best to look bored, but I catch a flicker of something else on her features. Nervousness? Excitement? Indigestion? Hard to tell.

The judge, bless his heart, soldiers on. “Do you, Sawyer David O’Malley, take this woman…?”

I lean in close to Maggie, my lips barely grazing her ear as I whisper, “As often as possible.”

She jerks back, her cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.

The judge looks between us. “Um, is that a yes?”

I give him my most winning smile. “That’s a hell yes.”

“Language,” Griffin scolds mockingly somewhere behind me. Maggie scoffs but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“And do you, Margaret Ann Jones, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Margaret Ann. I like that. Funny that I should learn my wife’s name on my wedding day.

Huh. My wedding day.

I inwardly chuckle at the thought.

Maggie hesitates, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s going to bolt. But then she locks eyes with me, a challenge blazing in her gaze. “I do. God help me.”

The judge tries to prompt us to say some sappy vows, but I get him to skip all that. I just want to finish up here and take my bride home. I don’t have illusions of a traditional wedding night. I just like the thought of her being there, under my roof.

“The rings?” the judge prompts.

Owen hands me the pink diamond ring, and as I slip it onto Maggie’s finger, I delight in watching her widening eyes.

“I thought I said no to this ring,” she hisses.

I play a slow, smug grin across my face. “Too bad. This is the ring my wife would wear. So deal with it.”

The truth is, seeing that ring on her finger does something to my insides. It’s like it belongs there, sparkling defiantly, just like her.

“By the power vested in me,” the judge rushes through the final words, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Now, we didn’t discuss much in planning this rush-rush wedding. We certainly didn’t discuss the first kiss as a married couple. Have I thought about it? Oh yes. And I’ve been looking forward to feeling Maggie’s lips on mine, even if it’s just this once. My pulse drums in my ears—all my attention zeroed in on Maggie. Everything around us blurs.

That is until Griffin sneezes three times in succession. Griffin is known for breaking the sound barrier when he sneezes. And his timing couldn’t be worse.

Emily shushes him. Hendrix takes off his baseball hat and smacks him with it.

I pause. Kissing is not mandatory for this to be legal. Or is it? I suppose we better do it, if only to cover all our bases.

I waggle my eyebrows at Maggie. “Ready for the best kiss of your life, Mrs. O’Malley?”

Maggie raises a snarky eyebrow. “No, thank you,” she tuts and turns to make a hasty exit.

“Oh no, you don’t.” I grab her wrist, feeling a jolt of electricity as my fingers close around it. With a swift tug, I pull her back. She crashes against my chest with a surprised “oof,” and before she can protest, I dip her low and capture her lips with mine.

Holy hockey sticks.

It’s like kissing a livewire. Her lips are soft, warm, and taste faintly of cherry lip balm. Maggie wiggles stiffly, but I feel her initial resistance melt away as her mouth opens for me. She sighs into the kiss, fingers curling into the lapels of my jacket.

I take her mouth hungrily, savoring every little gasp that escapes her. My hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer. The world fades away, and it’s just us, locked in this moment.

Soon her hands find their way under my shirt, pressing her fingers into my ribs. I respond in turn by cupping her firmly against me, raking my fingers up the nape of her neck, tugging at her hair.

She’s breathless, matching my kiss stroke for stroke, and a little moan escapes her throat. It drives me wild, and I wonder how I ever had the discretion to put a brake on things that day I walked out on her. I was a fool. I’ll never let her go again. She’s mine now.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear someone whistle and say, “Wow, okay then.” Probably Hendrix.

Reality slams into us like a cross-check.

Maggie freezes, blinks at me, dazed for a moment. Then her eyes narrow. Without a word, she turns on her heel and storms off into the nearest room, slamming a door behind her.

“Let her go,” Owen says, grabbing my arm as I move to follow.

Hannah pipes up, “That’s the laundry room.”

Of all the dramatic exits!

Ignoring Emily’s plea to give her a minute, I stride over to the door and give it a good, hard knock.

“Wife!” I shout through the door. “We still need to kiss for the honeymoon photos.”