Where Happiness Begins (Evermore #3)

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

My legs are shaking as I hide from the rain under the front porch of the Montpelier courthouse, coat wrapped tight around me. It might have been more than a week since we officially agreed to the marriage, but now that the day is here, I can’t help but feel like I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. I keep thinking about what my father would say if he could see me, and somehow, I can’t figure out what his reaction would be. On the one hand, he was always the one to tell me that life was an adventure and you simply had to make the best with what you had. On the other hand, he might be ashamed at the thought of his only daughter marrying and moving in with a man she met less than two weeks before. Even so, I wish he were here. I can’t believe I’m getting married and my dad—the one person who’s been with me through it all—isn’t here to walk me down the aisle, as fake as this thing is.

Just as I feel that telltale tightening in my throat that precedes tears, I spot a figure walking my way, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. I blink up and cough once, hoping I can sound normal by the time I have to speak to him.

“Hey,” Carter says as he reaches me under the porch .

“Hey. Ready to get hitched?”

He doesn’t answer, his tight line of a mouth turning into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“We’re getting married in twenty minutes. I think it’s too late to bullshit me.”

My expression twists into the sad smile I was initially wearing. “I just wish my father were here. That’s all.”

There. Now he can’t fault me for being a liar.

His frown doesn’t go anywhere. “We can call him and wait if you want.”

Somehow, that’s the last thing I expected to hear from him, and that small gentleness is enough to make me feel slightly better about today.

“He’s not that kind of absent,” I say, my voice catching on the last word. “But thanks anyway.”

He seems to get it because he doesn’t insist, only nodding once.

Well, this day got strangely emotional. I inhale, then let my shoulders drop as I release the air. “Still not backing out?”

“I don’t know how many times you’re going to ask me this.”

I roll my eyes. “This one’s the last, I promise.” After that, it’ll be too late.

“I’m good,” he grunts. “You?”

“I’m good.” Now that my head’s clearer, I take the time to study him. He’s wearing a white dress shirt tucked into clean slacks, and his polished shoes look brand new. I won’t lie, I love that he made an effort. Even if this isn’t a real marriage, I couldn’t imagine wearing casual clothes at the courthouse. Since we were on a very short deadline—getting a wedding permit and a courthouse appointment in Vermont could be done fast—I didn’t have time to go shop for a new outfit, but I still picked out a cream summer dress that is covered in pastel daffodils and that reaches all the way to my calves, paired with cream heels. I also wanted to do something cute with my hair, settling on curling it and tucking half of it up.

As I’m studying him, he’s definitely studying me, and while I don’t know how he feels about what he sees, I won’t bring myself to care. He doesn’t have to find me pretty or even okay. He just has to sign his name on the legal papers and share my life for two years.

Neither one of us moves for a couple of moments as if we’re both waiting for some sign to get going. I wonder if he’s also feeling like his body is being pulled in both directions, like he wants to do this as much as he wants to run away and never look back. Or maybe that’s just me.

“Well, then.” I extend a hand in the direction of the door, and he walks to it, holds it open for me, then follows me in.

The inside of the courthouse is pretty empty considering it’s a Tuesday afternoon, and we take a seat where the clerk tells us, the dated, itchy chairs facing a set of doors I think will lead us to the room where we’ll get married.

A painful silent minute passes before I exclaim, “We forgot to bring a witness.” Even if I’d wanted to, I don’t know who I would’ve asked. I haven’t told any of my friends what I’m doing, and I certainly wouldn’t have told Nana. I probably wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if I’d had to listen to her or Finn tell me all the reasons why I’m dumb to be doing this. Although right now, I’d give anything to have them with me.

“Pretty sure they can give us one.”

“Right.”

I wait another second before saying, “Did we need to bring a passport or something?”

“Relax, Fireball. We did what was asked of us. We’re good.”

I know he’s right. Still, I don’t like his casualness as if this is a walk in the park for him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous—not even before going in for my transplant. Then, I knew I was doing what was best for me. Now, I’m not so sure.

The grandfather clock standing three feet away from us ticks loudly, each sound making my legs bounce faster.

My movements stop when a warm hand lands on my knee, not clutching, only holding it in place. I might be annoyed if it didn’t feel so reassuring.

“You’re making me nervous,” Carter says.

“Finally time you join the club,” I say with a fake smile.

“For Carter?”

We both turn toward the clerk standing between the now-open set of doors, a file held between her hands. Her dark hair is falling down in braids around the shoulders of her suit jacket.

“We’re ready for you,” she says.

So this is it.

I’m not sure I’d find the strength to get up if I didn’t have Carter’s hand on me, squeezing my knee once before he gets up as if he knows how badly I want to disappear right now. It’s just enough to bring me back to my senses. I have no choice but to do this. It’s what makes sense.

With the two of them staring down at me, I get to my feet. Then we follow her inside the courtroom, and when she gives me a warm smile, I can’t even get myself to return it, politeness be damned.

As we walk toward the dais at the front of the boring room, Carter leans toward my ear and whispers, “For someone who said we had to be subtle, you look like someone being forced down the aisle at gunpoint.”

I send him a glare. Just because he’s right doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Once we finally reach the front of the room and the clerk gets behind the dais, I force my best “I’m-so-in-love” face on and even go as far as grabbing Carter’s hands in mine. He lifts a brow in surprise at my touch, and I respond with a raise of my own. He asked for it. And if he’s uncomfortable with my touch, all the better.

“I’m Belinda,” the clerk says. “I’ll be the one marrying you today.” She looks genuinely happy to be doing this. “Did you have any music you wanted to use or decorations you wanted to put up?”

I shake my head. “No. We didn’t plan anything else.” Then I look at Carter and try to infuse as much affection in my eyes as I can. “We just wanted to be married as soon as possible.”

“That’s great,” she says, and while she smiles, her eyes dart to my belly. “Let’s start then.” She clears her throat, then looks down at her documents. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Andrew Carter and Lilianne DiLorenzo.”

A sudden clench around my hands makes me turn to Carter, whose complexion has suddenly turned ghostly white. His pupils are wide as he stares at a random spot behind me. I guess hearing my full name for the first time made him realize just how real this is. In fact, I’m not sure I ever told him my first name. When I requested the marriage license and made the appointment for today, I had to see his ID, so I got to know his full name, but he never had the chance to do the same.

While I found his previous casualness annoying, I don’t like seeing him uncomfortable either. It’s as if one of us needs to be calm if we’re to make it through this, and since that person can’t be me, he can’t go into a tailspin.

As the clerk continues speaking, going over what marriage means and what vows we need to promise to each other, I squeeze Carter’s hands once. They’re cold and clammy between mine, and even when I repeat my action, it doesn’t make him react.

In the end, it takes me subtly stepping on his foot to bring him out of his anxiety trance. Wincing, his head spins my way.

“You good?” I mouth as Belinda mentions the legalities of marriage in Vermont.

He pauses before nodding.

All righty, then.

Our attention returns to Belinda, and soon, we’re asked to repeat the vows she recites. I start off, doing so in some detached way, not even absorbing the words I’m saying. That is, until it’s Carter’s turn to do so. The moment he begins talking, my focus lands on him and remains there.

“I, Andrew Carter,” he repeats after Belinda, jaw tight, “take you…” His chest puffs with a breath. “Take you, Lilianne DiLorenzo, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” Even though I’m burning up, the way he speaks the words makes goose bumps appear on my arms. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice as he promises to love and cherish me, to have and to hold me in sickness and in health, and to do so until death do us part.

I’ve never felt more like a fraud.

Belinda proceeds to make us sign the legal papers, and I try to keep my mind blank as I write my name on the line. Carter does the same next to me, and when his arm brushes mine, it makes my breath hitch. I’m too on edge.

“Great. You may now exchange your rings.”

My eyes round as I stare at Carter. Oh God. How did I forget the rings?

The second he lets go of my hands, I feel a loss of warmth, and for some reason, I want it back. I’m not sure why holding on to him makes me feel better, but it does. I need him to center me in all this craziness.

And when I notice the plain gold band he pulls out of his front pocket, I die a little inside.

“I completely forgot—” I start.

“It’s fine,” he says, not even looking at Belinda but only at me as he grabs my left hand and slides the delicate ring onto my fourth finger. I don’t know how he did it, but it’s the perfect fit, and as simple as it is, it looks beautiful.

I pretend not to notice the weird look Belinda is giving me, probably wondering what kind of a wife I’ll be, and once the moment passes and she sees that I truly don’t have one for him, she clears her throat and straightens. “By the power vested in me by the state of Vermont, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Andrew, you may now kiss your bride.”

Another thing I hadn’t really thought about before now. Getting married involves a kiss. Of course it does. I’ve been so busy all week, spending my days working and my nights dreaming of getting caught by the feds, that I didn’t pay any attention to the ceremony part of things, hence the lack of a ring.

It’s not like I have a choice to kiss him, though. Avoiding it would be the most obvious way to show we’re not actually together. Plus, it’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.

Slowly, I lift my eyes and let them trail up Carter’s body, from his wide chest to his long neck and clean-shaven jaw—how did I not notice he was this tall before?—and finally land on his eyes. I try to find some sort of emotion or tell about what he’s thinking right this moment but find nothing but emptiness. Whatever he’s feeling about having to kiss me, he’s not letting it show.

The moment is becoming too long, and just as I go to climb on my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his mouth, he leans forward and softly clasps my cheeks between his rough hands before landing his lips on mine .

I gasp at the initial contact, both surprised and electrified. As chaste as this kiss is, the feel of his lips on mine, soft and yet firm, in control, feels like a bucketful of adrenaline being spilled down my veins. I know I should pull back, but for some reason, I keep it going for a breath longer.

He pulls away first, bringing with him his scent of bergamot and musk, his throat bobbing on a swallow as he looks away. Meanwhile, my gaze remains on him. The kiss was nothing wild, but I still feel a blush covering my entire neck and face.

Clapping from Belinda brings me back to earth, making me realize we’ve officialized this.

Whatever happens, it’s done. Andrew Carter and I are in this together.

For better or for worse.