: Chapter 5

“Are you nervous?” Stacey asks as I stick folds of toilet paper under my armpits in the private bathroom of Hudson’s office, attempting to soak up the sweat that seems to be pouring out of me.

“I don’t know,” I hiss-whisper at Stacey. “I have toilet paper in my armpits, what do you think?”

“You know, you don’t have to go through with this,” she says as she pulls some toilet paper from the roll and starts dabbing my forehead and upper lip.

“Yes, I do. He’s waiting out there with a reverend and his lawyer. And there’s a check in an envelope in my purse made out to me for forty thousand dollars. I just need to…I just need to get it together.”

And I thought convincing Hudson to say yes was going to be the hardest part. Little did I know actually going through the wedding ceremony was going to be the biggest hurdle.

Because this is…this is a real, genuine marriage.

Like, I belong to him, he belongs to me. I’m technically going to be Mrs. Hudson Hopper.

There is no make-believe.

There is no trial run.

This is the real deal. He’s going to slip a ring on my finger, and we’re going to…

“Oh God.” All the blood drains from my face.

“What?” Stacey asks.

I turn to my sister and grip her shoulders, the toilet paper sticking to my sweaty armpits, and say, “Is he going to kiss me?”

Her nose turns up in disgust. “Why would he kiss you?”

“Uh, because that’s what people do at weddings. They say ‘you may kiss the bride’ or each other or your partner or whatever! You may kiss thee! The couples kiss. There’s kissing!”

“Oh…right.” Stacey thinks about it. “You know, great question. That’s not something you talked about?”

“I wouldn’t be freaking out if it was.”

Knock, knock.

“Everything okay in there?” Hudson asks from the other side of the door.

Oh God.

“Yes,” I squeak. “Everything’s great.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ask him about the kiss,” Stacey whispers, and I shake my head. She nods toward the door. “Yes, ask.”

“No,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Sloane?”

“Yup, everything’s great,” I say in a rush. “Can’t, uh, can’t wait to be your bride. Your beautiful, blushing bride. Just, uh, finishing up in here. You know, plucking things.”

“Plucking?” Stacey mouths in disgust.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Uh, okay,” Hudson answers back, sounding perplexed. As he should. “Well, the reverend is getting tired, so if you can hurry up with the plucking, that would be best.”

“Be right out.”

I lean against the wall, pull the toilet paper from the roll and start dabbing and wrapping every surface of my body. The sweat, there’s too much.

“What the hell would you be plucking right now?” Stacey asks.

“I don’t know; I panicked.”

“Panic about lipstick, not plucking.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say as I continue to dab myself. “Please, fan me. Do something. I’m sweating off my makeup.”

She rolls her eyes, but like the dutiful sister that she is, she grabs the hand towel from the towel rack and starts whipping it in front of my face, shooting bursts of air in my direction.

“Don’t get too close. I don’t need you whipping me in the⁠—”

Whack.

“Son of a bitch,” I shout, grabbing my eye.

“What happened?” Stacey asks quickly as she lowers the towel to find me wrapped up in toilet paper, leaning against the wall, and clutching my eyeball that I have no doubt at any moment will fall right out of its socket and across the bathroom floor.

“You got me in the freaking eye.”

“Ooof, really? What are the chances?”

“Pretty high, apparently.”

“Hey.” Hudson knocks again. “Are you sure everything is okay in there?”

My God, man. I said I was plucking! Leave a girl to pluck.

“Yup, fine,” I groan and pull my hand away, trying to blink my eye back into its spot. “Just, you know, final touches. Have to look good for my husband.”

There’s silence, and then he twists the handle and thank God we locked it. “Sloane, let me in.”

“Can’t,” I say. “Uh, Stacey is naked, from the plucking.”

“What?” she whispers at me, murder in her eyes.

“Sloane, now.” Hudson’s voice grows tense.

And I’m about to try to reassure him that everything is fine when Stacey moves toward the door.

My lips purse and my eyes narrow. “Don’t,” I say. She moves even closer. “Stacey,” I whisper-shout, pointing my finger at her. “Stop. Don’t.”

But it’s too late. She unlocks the door, and Hudson charges into the bathroom, where he finds me looking like a toilet paper mummy, up against the wall, with my eyeball half hanging out of my head—not really, but have to play up the dramatics for the imagery.

“What the hell is going on?” he asks, taking me in and then looking over at Stacey.

Nervously Stacey backs away. “I think I’m going to introduce myself to the reverend and find out where he grew up,” she says as she moves out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with Hudson.

When the door clicks shut, Hudson closes the distance between us and starts tearing off the toilet paper that’s sticking to my sweaty skin.

“What are you doing, Sloane?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask.

“No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” I let out a pent-up breath and say, “Just nervous and sweaty and trying to combat the sweatiness with toilet paper and then my sister whipped me in the eye and now you’re going to have an eyeless bride. So, sorry about that.”

He continues to help me with the toilet paper and stays silent as I allow myself to give my future husband a good once-over. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, not quite navy but not royal blue either, maybe a color in between. He’s paired it with a black button-up shirt and a black tie. His full head of hair is styled off to the side but also sort of pieced in the front, making him exponentially more attractive. And because it’s eight at night, his five o’clock shadow has come in, giving him a darker, more mysterious look.

And I’m supposed to be all casual and act like marrying this man is no big deal?

Afraid not.

The man is disgustingly attractive. No single human should be as good-looking as him.

“You know, I’m nervous too,” he says.

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re really shaking in your loafers.”

He finishes removing the toilet paper and pulls me away from the wall. “I am nervous. I apparently just don’t sweat as much as you.”

I peel the toilet paper from my armpits and deposit it in the trash can. “Yes, well, you’re missing out.”

“Is your eye okay? It looks like it’s bruising.”

“Really?” I turn toward the mirror, and sure enough, that’s a bruise forming in the corner. “Lovely. Just what I was hoping for on this precious day of marriage, a black eye.” I let out a breath and turn toward Hudson. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“You can still back out,” he says as I head toward the bathroom door.

“You gave me a check. I’m not backing out.”

“You can keep it,” he says, looking all kinds of serious. “Consider it a loan or a bonus. Hell, it could be for the bridesmaid work.”

I shake my head. “No, this was my idea, and I’m going through with it. We’re getting married.”

“Sloane.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to pressure you.”

“You aren’t.” I take a deep breath. “I just needed a second to gather myself. Okay? Trust me, everything is fine. Let’s get married.”

I march out of the bathroom, where the reverend is talking to Stacey and the lawyer is sitting at Hudson’s desk.

I clasp my hands together. “Sorry about the wait. Are we ready?”

“We are,” the reverend says as he moves away from Stacey and holds his book in front of him.

I glance back at Hudson, who is standing in the doorway of his bathroom, studying me, and I fear that he might pull the plug—see right through my facade and call this off. But then he adjusts his suit jacket and joins me in his office, determination set in his features.

Together, Hudson and I get into position in front of the reverend and awkwardly stand there as he starts talking about long, lasting love.

Yup, that’s us, the couple bound for long and lasting love.

Eternal love.

The once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that so few find.

A knot of nerves forms in the pit of my stomach.

Hudson starts with his repeated vows, telling me to my face that he’s committed to me through better or worse. He keeps his eyes on me but his hands to himself.

When it’s my turn, I repeat the same words, my hands becoming slick as I watch his Adam’s apple bob, the first sign of nerves that I’ve seen from him this entire time.

At least I’m in good company.

“May I have the rings,” the reverend says, and the lawyer brings over a box. Hudson opens it, revealing a giant square-cut diamond ring.

“Holy shit,” I say without a filter and steal it from his hand. “Is this for me?” When I catch the reverend from the corner of my eye, I say, “I mean, wow, darling, you, uh…you went all out. Mommy like.”

Stacey snorts behind me while Hudson raises his brow. “‘Mommy like’?”

“Err, I meant…Sloane approves.”

Not any better, jackass.

“I’m glad,” Hudson says and hands me a simple black band for himself.

We spend the next few minutes listening to the reverend talk about rings being the symbol of everlasting love and repeating after him while we place the rings on each other. Once all is said and done, the reverend says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Great.

I look up at Hudson, who pauses, seeming just as confused as I am. So I move in with my hand, he moves in with his head, and I poke him right in the stomach.

“Oop, hello, Mr. Ab,” I say. “Sorry about that.”

He grumbles something and sticks his hand out just as I stand on my toes to offer him my cheek, but the sudden movement causes him to poke my breast.

“Nearly missed the nipple there, mate,” I say in a horrible British accent.

“Dear God,” I hear Stacey whisper from behind me.

Before I can say anything else, Hudson grabs my cheeks, bends down, and presses a kiss right to my…nose.

An old boop-boop to the nostrils.

I couldn’t think of anything less sexy.

The poke to the breast was better than a nose kiss.

The reverend clears his throat and says, “Lovely.”

“Thank you, we practiced,” I say, my awkwardness showing up in spades.

“Well, I shall sign the marriage certificate and be on my way.”

“Thank you,” Hudson says in a more serious tone.

Silence fills the room as the reverend scribbles his signature. When he’s done, he looks between me and Hudson, who are just standing there, not touching, not doing anything.

A concerned look crosses his face so to reassure him that this isn’t a bought-bride situation—even though it kind of is—I wrap my arms and one leg around Hudson, holding him tight.

“Ooof, can’t wait to climb this man tonight and really seal the deal, you know?” I wink at the reverend and that puts a smile on his face.

“Yes, well⁠—”

“We’ll be copulating; don’t worry about us. Can’t wait to climb this log or his log⁠—”

“Okay,” Hudson says as he shimmies away from me. “Let’s sign the papers. Thank you, Reverend. You’ve been great and we appreciate you being patient with us.”

We sign the marriage certificate in silence.

“Congratulations.” The reverend packs the paper away and takes off, leaving us with Hudson’s lawyer.

“Well, can’t say that wasn’t entertaining,” Stacey says as she takes a seat in one of the chairs. “I really liked the vows. Touching.”

Hudson ignores her and hands me the pen to sign the additional stack of papers the lawyer has for us.

“I thought the vows were nice. Very traditional,” I say. “What did you think…Husband?”

“Can we not right now?” he asks, seeming testy.

Sheesh, you think he’d be happy after making an honest woman out of me.

We sign an NDA and then a contract about what’s to be expected with our agreement. When I first arrived, I signed a prenup, not even bothering to look through it, because hell, I got my check. I’m telling myself that’s all I care about.

Once everything is signed, the lawyer puts the papers in his briefcase, stands, and says, “I’ll make copies and send them to you, Mrs. Hopper.”

Oh yikes, he went there.

Mrs. Hopper—sends a shiver down the spine, doesn’t it?

“Yup, thanks. I’ll, uh, be sure to put them in a fireproof safe.”

“We don’t have one of those,” Stacey says.

“I’ll be sure to get one. Got to keep those documents safe.”

The lawyer just nods, shakes hands with Hudson, and heads out the door, leaving it to just the three of us.

“So.” I clasp my hands together. “I guess that’s a wrap.” I hold my hand out to Hudson. “Nice doing business with you. I shall see you in the morning. Oh, and thanks for the ring.” When he doesn’t take my hand, I stick it in the pocket of my white dress. “Well, uh, Stacey, shall we?”

“I think we shall,” she says as she stands, and we start heading to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hudson asks, stopping the both of us.

We turn around together, and I glance at my sister and then back at Hudson. “I believe back to the house, right?”

“I mean, I was kind of hoping you’d treat me to some ice cream,” Stacey says. “After all, you made your husband believe that you were plucking me minutes before your wedding.”

I chuckle. “Right, not my best moment. You know what, I will treat you to ice cream.”

“The good ice cream, none of this grocery store bullshit.”

“Lady, I got married today, we’re getting the⁠—”

“You’re coming home,” Hudson says, drawing both of our attention.

Nervously, I chuckle and pull on my ear. “Oh God, I thought he just said I was going home, like his home.”

“No, I think he meant our home, like you and I are not getting ice cream. We’re to just go home. Maybe it’s a marriage curfew or something.”

“Oh, is that a thing?” I ask.

We both turn to Hudson again, whose jaw is tight and who is looking none too entertained. Seems like someone lost their sense of humor when they said I do.

“You’re coming home…with me.”

I stand there, stunned, blinking as Stacey leans toward me, and from the corner of her mouth, she says, “I think he said you’re going home with him, like to his home.”

“I think that’s what he said too,” I whisper back, still staring at him. “I can’t tell if he’s serious.”

“Dead serious,” he says.

“Ha, okay.” I chuckle. “Good, uh, good one, my man. But you know”—I yawn and stretch my arms above my head—“it’s getting late, and that ice cream is not going to eat itself, so why don’t we put this whole Beauty and the Beast, you stay with me act to rest because, frankly, it’s slightly outdated.”

“I told you to read the agreement,” he says.

“I did. I skimmed it. The legal jargon was a little much, if you ask me. Like, why be so fancy? You can use regular English. Nothing wrong with simple sentences.”

He takes a step closer to me and says, “In the agreement, it states that you are to live with me.”

“Where?” I ask. “Where on earth did it say that?”

He picks up his copy of the contract that the lawyer left “for his records,” brings it over to me, and points to the very sentence. I read it three or four times, mouthing the words before looking up at him, dread filling me. “Why on earth would you put that in the contract?”

“Because we need to get to know each other, and the best way to do that is to live with each other.”

“Uh, hey, captor, I work with you. Remember, I’m your devoted assistant again? We can get to know each other here.”

“This is the workplace, not a place for me to get to know and understand my wife on a deeper level.”

“Wow, okay, the way you said wife, sheesh, it sounded like you really meant it.”

“It did,” Stacey whispers. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were to pull a bucket of popcorn out of her pants and start shoving handfuls in her mouth as she watches the drama unfolding. And there is some good reasoning for that. We have known Hudson Hopper for a while now through Jude, and he’s always been quite…intense. Add in what his father did to their family and that has simply made his gravity balloon. But living together? He doesn’t mean⁠—

“I did mean it,” he says, his serious tone never faltering, his eyes never straying. “Our car is waiting for us downstairs.”

Stacey taps me on the shoulder and whispers, “I think he means it. I think you’re supposed to go home with him.”

“That’s what it seems like.” I lift my chin in the air. “Okay, Husband, if I’m supposed to go home with you, then where am I supposed to sleep? Huh? What about clothes? A toothbrush? Going to tell you right now, I’m very keen on dental care. No way in hell am I going to go to bed without brushing my teeth. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“Everything you need is at our house.”

Our.

He just said our house.

This entire situation just got a whole lot more serious.

“Stacey,” he says, addressing her. “I have a car waiting for you as well. Tell the driver where you would like to go for ice cream. It’s on me.”

Then he walks up to me, holds his arm out, and says, “Let’s go home.”

I stare at his arm and then back at him. I point to his gesture and ask, “Am I supposed to just slip my arm in yours and act like this is all normal?”

He leans in and says through clenched teeth, “The quicker you realize just how real this is, the easier it will be for you.”

Oh boy.

Okay.

So this is serious.

This man really thinks this marriage is real.

“You know, just for the record, I assumed this was going to be more casual.”

He takes my arm and slips it through his. “This isn’t fake dating, Sloane. This is a goddamn marriage. You’re my wife. The expectations are different.”

He guides me down the hall, my sister trailing after me. “Expectations.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Can you elaborate on those?”

He punches the down button and faces forward as he says, “Read the agreement. You will know.”

The elevator doors open, and we step in. When he pushes the button for the first floor and the doors close, Stacey says, “Note to self, always read the document before signing.”

No shit.