Page 240 of Overcast

“We’d have to be married first.”

“Then let’s hurry the fuck up and do it.”

“I’m ready when you two are,” Mills announces, making Marty pull back and look over my shoulder.

“Ready for what?” Marty snaps. “You just have to sit down and shut up.” Wrapping my arm around Marty’s waist, I pivot around to see Mills with his arms crossed, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh, I’m officiating the damn thing,” he quips. “I’m getting you two hitched.”

“Oh, hell no,” Marty growls. “Emmy, aren’t you—”

“Nope,” she quickly asserts. “But I did get your guys’ marriage certificate. Mills is the only one here who can do the ceremony.”

“Did it online and everything,” Mills beams before tapping his forehead. “All fresh and up here.”

I smile at him because I honestly couldn’t think of anyone else that would be more perfect in this unconventional life I’m about to step into.

“You’re not marrying us,” Marty retorts. “I’d rather—”

“You cool with it, Cinderella?” Mills quirks a brow, not bothering to hide the still smug look on his face. “After all, I did force Marty to confess his jealousy and feelings for you.”

“I’m going to confess all the ways I’m going to kick your ass when—”

“Yes,” I interrupt, patting Marty’s chest with my free hand. “It’ll be great.” I peer up at Marty. “Wouldn’t it be?”

“Seriously?” Marty’s brows furrow. “You want him to—”

“Yes.”

“But he’s a fucking—”

“Genius,” I fill in. “It just fits.”

“God,” Mills recites. “Will you marry me too, Cin? No one has ever called me a genius before, and I love you anyway.”

“Marry us, idiot,” Marty promptly answers. “So, I can rightfully kill you when you keep hitting on my wife.”

Mills’s finger guns him. “Let’s do the damn thing then.”

* * *

The ceremony was short and sweet—exactly how I wanted it. No huge crowd or band, Emmy played music off her phone and a Bluetooth speaker. I watched everyone smile and felt the warmth of being included in something strong. A bond. People that love each other no matter the differences.

Marty couldn’t keep his hands off me, peering into my eyes as if I was the only thing he could see or wanted to look upon all night. We danced our first dance close together, his arm possessively around my waist, and I froze the memory to my brain.

It’s one of the most joyous days of my life. The day I became Mrs. Marty Shelton, the wife of my savior. The man who brought me out of my shell. The only person I’ll ever want to stand by.

Emmy cut into our love-fest, asking for a dance with my new husband, and he begrudgingly agreed but not without pressing a long kiss to my lips before he left.

And at the window of our bedroom, I peer down at the scene underneath me.

Everyone drinking—besides Reagan—and dancing around. My sister-in-law demanded I go take a moment for myself and freshen up while she kept her brother at bay for a few songs.

I took it—wanting to feel it all and let everything sink into place.

I’m a wife.

I have a husband now.

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