Page 51 of Misconducts & Temptation

Next, I untied my hair from its usual ponytail and ran a brush through it until it fell in soft waves around my shoulders. The transformation was subtle but significant; I looked more like someone stepping into their future rather than someone clinging to their past.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror. My blonde hair framed my face with gentle curls, and my eyes held a determined glint that hadn't been there before. Despite everything—despite all the doubts and fears—I looked like someone ready to take on whatever came next.

With a final deep breath, I gathered up my belongings and stepped out of the restroom. The weight of the moment still pressed down on me, but there was also a strange sense of calm—a quiet determination that carried me forward.

I walked back toward Keaton, feeling each step solidify this new chapter in my life. The soft rustling of the dress seemed to echo in the otherwise silent hallway. When I reached him, he stopped and stared, his jaw going slack. His eyes darkened, a mix of emotions flickering across his face.

"Wow," he breathed, momentarily dropping his guarded demeanor.

I managed a small smile, my heart pounding in my chest. "Let's get this over with," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He nodded and led me to a room where a judge waited. The judge was an older man with kind eyes and a solemn expression, standing behind a wooden desk that seemed too large for the small space. The process felt clinical, devoid of any romantic notions I might have once harbored about marriage.

We signed the certificate, our names etched into the official document that would bind us together legally. It all felt surreal—like I was watching someone else’s life unfold from a distance.

When the judge asked for the rings, Keaton reached into his pocket and pulled out five different bands. "I didn't know your size," he explained, "so I bought them all."

He slipped one onto my left finger—a delicate silver band with a single diamond set in the center. It fit perfectly, snug but not tight. The diamond caught the light just right, sending tiny prisms dancing across the room.

"I... I didn't get you one," I stammered, feeling a rush of guilt. "I didn't even think..."

"It's okay," he said curtly. "I won't wear one."

My jaw ticked in irritation at his dismissive tone. "Fine," I said, pulling the ring off my finger. "Then, I won't wear this."

His eyes flashed with frustration as he clenched his jaw. "It's a rule," I added firmly. "You have to wear a ring."

"Fine," he muttered again, this time pulling out a simple black band and dropping it into my hand.

"You bought one?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"I had a feeling you'd nag me about it," he muttered.

Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile as I slid his ring onto his finger. The moment was far from perfect—no fairytale ending—but it was real, and for now, that was enough.

The judge cleared his throat, pulling me back into the moment. "By the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I barely had time to register his words before Keaton stepped closer, his hand reaching up to cup my face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers warm against my skin. My heart pounded in my chest as he leaned in, his intense blue eyes never leaving mine.

Our lips met, and the world seemed to fall away. The kiss was slow and soft, a tender exploration that sent shivers down my spine. I felt goosebumps erupt across my skin as his lips moved against mine, every sensation heightened by the intimacy of the moment. His thumb brushed my cheek in a delicate caress, grounding me even as I felt myself floating.

For a brief moment, everything else ceased to exist—the courthouse, our hasty marriage, even our complicated reasons for being here. It was just us, lost in a kiss that spoke of possibilities neither of us had dared to consider.

Keaton pulled away slowly, his hand lingering on my face for a heartbeat longer before dropping to his side. His eyes were a soft blue as he looked at me, a hint of something vulnerable breaking through his usual guarded expression.

"Come on, Mrs. Douglas," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Let's go home."

I nodded, still reeling from the kiss and the weight of what had just happened. The new title—Mrs. Douglas—felt strange on my tongue but carried with it a sense of finality that was both terrifying and oddly comforting.

Together, we walked out of the courthouse and into our uncertain future.

Chapter 16

Keaton

She was quiet.

The car hummed beneath me as I glanced over at Elodie, her silence unsettling. She stared out the window, her expression blank, and it gnawed at me. She should have been crying, yelling—anything but this stoic calm.

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