Page 86 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

I move to the bookshelf next, arranging the storybooks I insisted on buying. Most of them are classics. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” “Goodnight Moon,” “Where the Wild Things Are.” I wonder if Sam will join me in reading them aloud, his warm voice filling the room.

The crib is the last stop in my cleaning spree. I run my fingers along the smooth wooden edge, my mind drifting to the life Sam and I are building together. It’s strange how much has changed in such a short time. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined this—married to Sam, preparing for a baby, feeling... hopeful.

But even as I think about our marriage, my mind tries to fill in the gaps of that night. I wish I could remember the details of our wedding.

The thought drifts through my mind as I sink into the rocking chair by the window, staring out at the waves in the distance. I’ve thought about it before, of course, but now it feels different. More important somehow.

I try to picture it—the Vegas chapel, the vows, the moment Sam slid the bubblegum ring onto my finger. Did we laugh? Did I cry? Did he regret it immediately, or did he look at me the way he sometimes does now, like I matter to him and he cares about me? Or is it because I’m carrying his child, and our sexual chemistry is off the charts? Did he really want to marry me, or was it just because I dared him, as he said?

It’s frustrating not to know, not to have those memories to cling to. Our wedding should have been one of the most meaningful days of my life, but instead, it’s a blur. I close my eyes, letting out a soft sigh. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so focused on building this life with Sam now—because I feel like our start was so rocky and accidental.

The baby moves inside me, a gentle flutter that makes me smile despite myself.

“Hey, little one,” I murmur, resting a hand on my belly. “I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? We’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

But as much as I tell myself that, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing some crucial detail.

The sound of the front door opening pulls me from my thoughts, and I hear Sam’s voice calling out, “Emily? I’m back!”

I smile, standing and brushing my hands on my jeans. “Up here!” I call back.

His footsteps echo up the stairs, and a moment later, he appears in the doorway, carrying a brown paper bag.

“Found that ice cream you’ve been craving,” he says, holding up the bag with a grin. “Cheesecake strawberry swirl, just like you wanted.”

My heart squeezes at the sight of him, so thoughtful and steady during my pregnancy.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I say, and I mean it, “Truly amazing,”

“Yeah, I know,” he teases, but his smile softens when he looks around the nursery. “You’ve been busy.”

“Just tidying up,” I reply, as he sets the bag on the dresser.

He then steps closer, his hand brushing against mine. “Hey, are you okay?”

I hesitate, debating whether to tell him what’s on my mind. But Sam has a way of coaxing the truth out of me, and I find myself saying, “I was just thinking about our wedding. I wish I could remember it.”

His expression shifts, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “Emily...”

“I just... I feel like I missed something important,” I say quickly, placing a hand on his chest. “It’s not your fault, Sam.” Then I glance up at him with a teasing smile. “At least, I don’t think it is. Did you plan on plying me with champaign? Knowing it makes me forget?”

Thinking my joking words would make him chuckle, I’m startled when his face hardens.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have let you drink a drop of champaign if I had known—”

“Sam!” I say, startled by his vehemence. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Never mind, don’t worry about it.”

Crossing my arms, I wait for him to elaborate, but he evades my glance as he silently picks up the bag containing the ice cream.

I pull back and look at him. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Sam, you seem to remember it better than me. Will you tell me about it? Our wedding night?”

Finally, to my relief, a slow smile spreads across his face. He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll do you one better,” he says slyly. “I’ll reenact it for you someday. How about that?”

I laugh, and the sound is light and free. “You’re ridiculous.”

He just winks. As I follow him out of the nursery, I think over his comment. Maybe we could renew our vows—that is, if he wants to.

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