Rosie sends me a look that’s pure apology. “You’re so right. Thank you.”

Bertie beams at the praise. “I’m so happy I made it in time. When I got back to our room and you were already gone, I worried I’d miss it.”

Rosie cringes, eyeing me in a way that makes it clear that she purposely left while her roommate was out.

I hold the door open for the ladies, and we find seats in the last row. There are two other couples ahead of us that haven’t started yet, as well as one standing in front of the officiant.

While we wait, nerves and adrenaline course through me with such ferocity that I can’t sit still.

Rosie puts her hand on my bouncing knee to settle it. “Babe,” she says, clearly trying not to gag on the word, “it’s cute that you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” I grumble.

With her hand still on my knee, she leans over to Bertie and whispers something I can’t hear.

As the couple rushes by us, it hits me that I’m so out of it I didn’t even pay attention to their vows. I blow out a breath. With the next one, I will. The last thing I want to do is stumble over my words.

It doesn’t take long for the two couples ahead of us to finish up, and when it’s our turn, my heart beats so hard I can hear it in my ears. Why the hell am I freaking out so much? This isn’t even real. It’s temporary.

But it’s still a marriage. It’s still legal.

I hold Rosie’s hands in each of mine and survey her. Her pulse visibly flutters in her throat. She swallows, forcing a smile. I paste on one of my own.

We’re supposed to be happy and in love, I remind myself.

We each repeat the words when we’re supposed to. Then it’s time for rings.

“Oh, we don’t?—”

I clear my throat, interrupting her, and shove my hand into my pocket. Holding my breath, I pull out a ring for me and one for her as well. As she takes the thick silver band with a line of black through it that I got for myself, I don’t miss the way her fingers tremble.

“I give you this ring as a sign of my love and devotion.” I repeat the line I’ve been given, sliding the diamond eternity band onto her finger.

She swallows audibly, reaching for my hand. “I give you this ring as a sign of my love and devotion.” The band is warm from her hand as it settles on my finger.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Kiss?Even as I watched the couples ahead of us, it never dawned on me that I would actually have to kiss her.

Rosie looks away.

It’s just a kiss. You’ve kissed plenty of girls.

But girls who weren’t Rosie—who weren’t mywife.

I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb against her chin, right beneath her full bottom lip. Leaning in, I lower my head. Her eyes flutter closed in preparation, her breath stuttering.

I swear time stands still as I seek out her mouth. My intent is to press a quick kiss to her lips, but a wave of heat washes through me the second our lips touch.

More. Ineedmore.

Not just more; I need everything.

I add pressure to the kiss and lick the seam of her lips. Her mouth opens slightly beneath mine, and a tiny sound escapes. I quickly swallow it down, relishing the warmth of her so close. The softness of her lips. She puts her hands flat on my chest, fingers flexing like she wants to clutch the fabric but is holding herself back. I kiss her harder still, with a desperation that shouldn’t exist. Then she snaps, opening for me, letting me in. She kisses me back, nibbling on my bottom lip. Encouraging me to dive back in for more. I tangle my fingers in her hair so I can hold her where I want her, pulling it free from the bun. I don’t stop. I can’t stop, and I never want to.

A throat clears in the distance, but I pay it no mind.

“Excuse me?” The voice is male. Mostly unfamiliar.