War (Boston Bolts Hockey #3)

19. Ava

NINETEEN

AVA

Me: I’m trying not to freak out right now, but I’m getting married today.

Me: In like five minutes, actually.

Me: And I haven’t told Mom or Dad.

Me: Currently sitting on a bench in town hall waiting for the clerk. Tyler has barely looked at me all morning. I can’t help but feel like I’m letting you down. When I moved to Boston, I promised I would live for me. No more putting other people first. But I swear, Andrea, this is what I want. Even if Tyler ignores me for the next two decades. Even if we only interact when it comes to the kids. Because I want to be their mom more than anything. Is that pathetic? Maybe. Yes, I love my job and I have amazing friends. But after today, I’ll still have all of that. I’ll keep them, and now I’ll also get to keep Josie. So I’m sure you’re thinking that I’m back to doing things for others instead of myself, but I swear I’m more selfish than that. I’m doing it for me. I do want this. And also, I secretly want

“We’re ready for you.”

I jolt in my seat and manage to hit Send without finishing my message. Oh well, I’ll text my sister again when we’re done.

Tyler is already standing, and god, does he look good. Over and over this morning, I’ve had to remind myself that he’s not wearing the perfectly tailored suit for me. He’s going straight from here to the airport, and travel suits are a must.

But each time I look at him, I find it hard to breathe. He’s always gorgeous, but he’s never looked better than he does now.

Except on Christmas morning, when he and the kids wore matching pajamas, and he sat crisscross on the floor with Scarlett in his lap, face lit up as he watched her and Josie and Brayden open presents.

God, Ava. And you’re trying to convince yourself that you aren’t attracted to your groom? Good luck there.

In my defense, anyone would be attracted to my groom. The blue of his tie brings out the color of his eyes, making them sparkle. Though his dark hair is styled, it’s still a little wild, since he’s been running his hands through it, and the damn tattoos I still haven’t gotten to explore properly peek out from the collar of his shirt.

He holds out his hand to me. “Come on, wifey. You have the rest of your life to ogle me. Better not make the clerk wait.”

I roll my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Just when I was thinking about how pretty you are, you had to go and open your mouth.”

Tyler barks out a laugh and shakes his head as he wraps his hand around mine. Once I’m standing, he leads me toward the open door.

I never could have pictured my wedding looking like this. Not that I’ve ever been the kind of girl to picture a perfect wedding day. My sister and I were more concerned about making it to prom. Then college. A wedding seemed like too much to hope for, and a wedding without my sister at my side was something I refused to picture at all.

But if I were the type of girl to picture her wedding, I can’t say I would have conjured up the image before me. A small, tidy room with no windows and a middle-aged man wearing a taupe suit and a toupee? Nope. Never.

“Do you have your own witnesses?” he asks without looking up.

The woman who led us in replies before we have the chance. “His attorney arranged for Janice and me to stand in. ”

“Great,” he says, focus still fixed on the paperwork in his hands.

Tyler pulls out a beige plastic chair for me. It’s a bucket seat, the kind that moves when a person sinks into it, kind of boomeranging back and forth. I lace my fingers and cross my ankles, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish for having stressed about what to wear today. It’s not even white. And I almost always wear white. It’s a cream-colored sweater dress and the only thing I brought with me to Tyler’s that seemed suitable for my freaking wedding.

If that’s what this is. It feels more like a boring meeting.

“All right, Mr. Warren, if you could just sign right here,” he says, his voice monotone.

Tyler angles forward and drags the pen across the white paper with practiced ease. Makes sense. He probably signs lots of autographs. Though there’s no way he actually read the document.

“And Miss…” The man trails off, having no idea what my name is now that the form is no longer in front of him.

“Mrs. Warren works just fine,” Tyler says gruffly. “It’s the only name that matters now. Right, wifey?”

With a heavy sigh, I slide the paper closer. Is it possible to kill a man with a pen? Looks like it’d make a semi-decent weapon.

Beside me, Tyler chuckles. “Just sign the paper, Vicious. You can plan my demise later.”

Huffing—and irritated that he can read me so well—I sign the damn marriage certificate, then I slide back into my chair. “Are the vows next?”

The man puts his fingers on the paper and spins it, then signs it himself and pulls out a rubber stamp. “You’re all set. Congrats”—he looks at the paper, stamp held aloft—“Mr. and Mrs. Warren.” With a thunk , he marks our marriage certificate with his seal.

My heart sinks. Pathetic. The man couldn’t be bothered to remember the name he spoke aloud only a moment ago.

Tyler’s chair makes a squeak as he pushes it back, and then once again, he’s holding his hand out to me. “Ready?”

That’s it? We’re just…done?

While heat builds behind my eyes, I follow him out of the room and to the exit. I realize he’s got a plane to catch, but it all feels so impersonal.

He feels impersonal. Like the man I’ve known him to be for the last few years. War. Not Tyler.

God, how could I have been foolish enough to think things had changed? That he had changed. Maybe he’s that man for the kids, but when it’s just us, it’s better if I remember that this is who he is.

As Tyler pulls the door open, the winter breeze rushes in, bringing with it a few flurries.

I tighten my cream coat, only now realizing that I never even took it off for the “ceremony.” So much for worrying about what I was wearing today. Tyler will never even see the dress.

“They didn’t even say you can now kiss the bride ,” I mutter as we shuffle out of the building without so much as a picture to commemorate the occasion.

“Yeah, he seemed a little preoccupied,” Tyler says as he pulls out his phone and buries his face in it.

The justice of the peace isn’t the only one who’s preoccupied, it seems.

“Well, I guess that’s it.” Swallowing past the emotion lodged in my throat, I dig my phone out of my coat pocket and navigate to the Uber app. Might as well go to work from here. I took the day off since I was getting freaking married, but it looks as though I was wrong to think the occasion would be worth any kind of celebration.

“Wait, sorry.” He slips his phone into his pocket and fixes his attention on me. Finally. “Just wanted to confirm that your ride was here.”

“Oh, I was just setting up an Uber.” I hold up my phone and give it a little shake. “I hope you have a great trip, though. I’ll make sure to have the kids call, or you can just call whenever you want to talk to them, I guess,” I stammer as awkwardness seeps in.

Tyler steps closer, ducking a little. “Bray has a phone. They normally use that to call.” He smiles. “Or Josie calls using Alexa.”

“Right.” I nod twice, unease still swirling inside me. “And…um. I-I know you normally go out after games”—I blow out a harsh breath as nerves skitter up my spine—“but if you could just be discreet about it.” With a breathy laugh, I shrug, my face hot with embarrassment an d my gaze lowered to my hands. “Don’t want the judge to see pictures of you with other women and figure out this was all for show.”

“What?” Tyler grits out.

At his stern tone, my eyes snap up to his of their own accord. “I’m just saying. I?—”

He steps in so close I have to tip my head back to maintain eye contact. He’s breathing heavy, his jaw tight and his eyes murderous. “That may not have been the wedding you deserve, but make no mistake about it—you are very much my wife, and I take my vows seriously.”

“We didn’t make any vows,” I scoff, even as I’m still stuck on those two little words— my wife —and the possessive way they rolled off his tongue.

“ Merde .” Breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, he slips a hand up the back of my neck. Then, tangling his fingers in my hair, he tugs so I’m forced to meet his eye again. “How about these, then?” He licks his lips. “I vow to be faithful to you and only you. For as long as we’re married, I won’t so much as look at another woman. I vow to put our family first, and that includes you, Vicious. You’re a Warren now. You’re my wife. ”

My heart trips over itself, then takes off at breakneck speed in my chest. Did he really just?—

“Your turn,” he murmurs, his mouth inches from mine.

“My turn?”

“Yeah, Vicious. Cut me with your words. I dare you.”

“I thought?—”

“You thought wrong,” he all but growls. “Now do your little thing with your pinky. Hold it up and pinky promise me that you’ll be faithful. Promise me that I can get on that plane today, leave you with our kids for a week, and know that I’m the only one you’ll think about when you’re in our bed at night.”

His words almost knock me over right here on the courthouse steps. Where is this coming from? This feverish behavior. This possessiveness. And the pinky promise. It’s almost cute how he’s craving that from me .

Is he…? Could he be…? No, there’s no way my husband actually likes me, right?

Brows lowered, he shakes his head. “Is it really that hard to promise me fidelity?”

“I didn’t know that was part of this agreement—” At a loss for words, I duck my head and wring my hands. I never considered that he’d be celibate for the entirety of our marriage, but he seems so affronted by the idea that he’d be with another woman. With a deep breath in for courage, I add, “We’ve never even kissed.”

He brushes his lips against mine. “Seulement dans mes rêves.” Then his mouth is on mine, stealing my breath. I may not know what those words mean, but god, he could have told me I’m the devil, and I wouldn’t care.

He devours me with his kiss. Obliterates every preconceived notion I had about this marriage. Groaning, he grasps my hair a little more firmly and tugs me closer. “That’s it, Vicious. Give me every last piece of you,” he murmurs against my lips. Then he’s diving in again, tangling our tongues and absolutely ruining me.

I claw at him, finally free to touch him, pulling him closer, wishing more than anything that we didn’t have layers of clothes between us and winter weather swirling around us.

This, I realize now, is what a kiss is supposed to feel like. This is what my sister and I dreamed about, what I never imagined I’d have.

At the sound of a car horn, I startle and pull back, panting.

Wearing a delicious grin, Tyler clutches me to his chest and holds me tight. “It was everything I dreamed of and more,” he whispers. Before I can wrap my head around his words, he spins me in his arms and rests his chin on my shoulder. “Your wedding gift, wifey.”

A gorgeous burgundy SUV is parked in front of me, decorated with an obnoxiously large bow on the top of it.

“It’s a seven-seat Rolls Royce with all the bells and whistles. I wish I could stay and spend the day driving around with you, but maybe you could drop me off at the airport?”

My breath stutters as I take it in. “You bought a car for me?”

Without replying, Tyler grasps my wrist and guides me down the steps. Like a kid showing off a new toy, he points out each feature, his face bright and his tone giddy. “Wait, I forgot to show you my favorite part.” Encircling my wrist once again, he drags me around the back.

When the license plate comes into view, I let out a loud laugh and peer up at him. “Mrs. War?”

He grins. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

I shake my head, stupefied by this eager, sweet side of him I’ve never seen. “I didn’t know?—”

Cupping my cheek and leaning in close, he smiles. “Now you do. So promise me, wifey. Promise me you’re mine.”

It’s impossible not to smile as I make that promise. Then I kiss him again.

In a daze, I navigate through Boston traffic to the airport, then to the Langfield Corp building. It isn’t until I’m sitting in my office, rereading the text I just received from Hannah, that I realize this wasn’t all a fever dream.

Because on the device in my hand is a screenshot of Tyler Warren’s Instagram page. The first image is of the two of us on Christmas morning. It’s a photo Josie forced us to take. In it, we’re sitting side by side in front of the tree, looking tired but happy, my hand held up to show off my gorgeous ring.

The caption below the picture reads Our forever starts today. Mr. & Mrs. Warren.