Page 100 of Dr. Fellow

He wets his lips before responding, “We called the chapel this afternoon to confirm. They keep detailed notes on each ceremony for this specific reason, and according to them, Parker and Cassidy’s phones were dead so I gave them my number instead. They left a voicemail to explain, but I deleted it the next morning like a dumbass.”

I guess that makes sense as to why Walker’s phone was the only one with pictures on it. When I scrolled through them the morning after, the only image that would remotely indicate a wedding took place was so blurry that you couldn’t tell who was in it. And since Claire insisted we all wear white, I automatically assumed I was the one in the photo.

Clearly, I was wrong.

“So—” I pause, trying to work out what this means for us.

If Parker and Cass are the ones who got married in Vegas, that means Walker and I aren’t really married. And if we aren’t really married, what are we doing here today? My mind feels like it’s going a million miles a minute, staring down multiple dimensions of possibilities like a tesseract.

Before I can get the next words out of my mouth, Walker speaks, “We have about an hour until guests arrive so you can take some time to think. I’ll handle it either way, but I need to know what you want to do.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” I ask, searching his face for a hint and finding nothing.

I know without a doubt that Walker loves me—he’s made it abundantly evident over the past month in everything he does. From the way he started reading books that he knew were important to me, to the way he got a tattoo to remind himself of me, his feelings have never been more clear.

But that also doesn’t mean he wants to be married again if he doesn’t have to be. Sure, he was confident and annoyingly rigid in his stance after Vegas, but what if that never happened? Would we still be here?

He squeezes my hand firmly. “This isn’t about me. Our relationship has always been about you, and it will always be about you. I’m not going to let my choice affect yours. If you want to get married, we’ll get married. If you want to call it off, we’ll call it off. Whatever you want, is what I want. And whatever you need, is what I need.”

I chew on my lip, pretending to mull it over even though this is the easiest decision I’ve ever made.

I’ve always been told that marriage is the hardest thing you’ll do in your life. That it will take from you, challenge you, and frustrate you. That there are no true happy endings. But if I’m being honest with myself, this past month hasn’t been the hardest of my life; it’s been the easiest, and I think that has a lot more to do with who my husband is, than the actual institution of marriage itself.

When I first got to know Walker, I thought he was an enigma—someone who was closed off, hard to read, and incredibly frustrating. But I’ve learned that his character actually boils down to a singular trait—determination.

Determination to build himself a better life.

Determination to learn from his mistakes.

And determination to make our relationship work, regardless of a title.

He’s shown me that love and submission not only go hand in hand, but they go both ways. And considering I’ve spent my entire life putting myself first, I think it’s about time that I change that. Because there’s no one I’d rather submit to than Walker.

So when the words leave my mouth, they feel comforting and exciting, like I’m opening the first chapter of my favorite book I’ve ever read.

“I want to marry you.”

Chapter 39

Walker

“Damn dude,” Beau says, clapping me on the back as I wait behind a glass door for the guests to take their seats. “You clean up nice.”

I sigh, sweeping my eyes over my friend’s ensemble. “I’d say the same thing but your pink cummerbund looks ridiculous.”

Considering Parker has a massive wardrobe, I’m genuinely shocked that he doesn’t own several sets of traditional tuxedo accessories. Or maybe he does, and Beau just chose the most obnoxious one in the closet . . .

“You know what they say,” he drawls, giving me an asinine smirk. “You can’t say cummerbund without saying cum.”

My lips purse. “I sincerely hope your jizz isn’t that color.”

“Wanna find out?”

I glare at him, not the least bit amused by his games.

My body feels itchy and off-kilter, like I’m coming down with a bug. I reach up to adjust my collar, trying to relieve some of the tightness in my neck, but it doesn’t help.

In the past, I would have made fun of guys who couldn’t control their emotions on their wedding day, but now I completely understand. Because even though Morgan and I have spent the past two months believing that we were married, that doesn’t change the significance of this moment. Today we’re making a conscious decision to choose each other for the rest of our lives. We’re growing from our separate pasts, and building a future full of mutual promises. It’s powerful and the significance of the moment isn’t lost on me . . . or my body.

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