Page 19 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Jordan, for whatever reason—he’s never told me—had one lapse in judgement one time. But the Comers don’t get to crucify him over it. It’s just not right.

“Jordan’s not afraid of commitment.” My nostrils flare. “The fact he didn’t walk away when Georgia told him she was pregnant is proof of that.”

“And that is definitely going to be in our favor. But we need to find a way to address the other concerns. If you were married, all of the Comers’ objections about you not being available to juggle everything alone would disappear. And it would showcase you as the family man you are, with a stable home life.”

Turning wide eyes to me, Jordan swallows hard. “The thing is, we’re not?—”

“Just think about it, okay?” The full weight of Sam’s stare bores into me. “I know you’ve probably got some big fancy wedding planned, and you don’t have to change those plans necessarily. You can still keep your big ceremony and reception. Hey, keep the honeymoon the same for all I care?—”

Jordan coughs again.

“—but if you’re planning to get married anyway, there would be a benefit to doing it sooner than later. It might just save you a lot of time, money, and heartache.”

Meaning, marriage might just make this whole petition a non-issue.

My brain starts whirring. It’s like when I get a new idea for a cake. A corner of my mind grabs onto the idea, tosses it around like a pizza, high in the air, until it’s got something ready to bake and decorate.

“I don’t think that’s going to work, sir.” Jordan lets go of my hand, leans forward so his elbows are on his knees, and rubs his hands down his face. “We need to figure out another plan.”

Sam flashes me a grim look. “All right, well, it’s just a thought. Stick it in your pocket. Ponder it. Marriage could be the answer to all of this. It’s the best way for you to look respectable and stable in a short amount of time.”

Jordan shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something—probably to inform Sam that we are not even dating, much less engaged—but I jump in with a question of my own. “But won’t the judge think it’s awfully convenient if we get married right before this? You don’t think the quickness of it would raise any red flags?”

“If you were already together, already planning to get married, I don’t think anyone could say anything against it. We could say you realized that getting married sooner would provide more stability for Ryder, and that his well-being is the most important priority for you.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

Sam smiles. “So you’ll consider it, then?”

“Yes. We’ll consider all options.” I say it with confidence, but I can feel the heat of Jordan’s stare. Turning to him, I find him blinking at me, confusion in his gaze.

Trust me, I mouth.

Then I turn back to Sam. “What else do we need to know?”

five

JORDAN

I’m pretty sure I’ve entered a twilight zone—one in which my attorney suggested I marry my best friend.

One in which my best friend didn’t run for the hills at the suggestion. She didn’t even laugh off his assumptions like she always does whenever someone else implies we’re together.

In fact, she sat there and responded with questions of her own, as if what he was suggesting might actually be a possibility.

Yeah. Definitely the Twilight Zone. One that looks and sounds andfeelsvery real.

As soon as Marilee and I step out of Sam Granger’s office thirty minutes later, I snag her elbow gently and turn to her. “Hey.”

She flips her gaze upward, eyes big and soft green. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Oh, I don’t think you do.She couldn’t possibly have any idea what I’m thinking. “And what’s that?”

She glances back toward the door, then around the hallway, where a few people in business suits talk as they walk toward us. “Let’s get a bite to eat and go talk somewhere. There was some sort of sandwich shop on the other side of the street and a park right next to it.”

I study her for a moment before nodding, my jaw tight. “All right.”

After grabbing a few subs in relative silence, we’re situated across from each other at a concrete picnic table under the spread of a California sycamore. This is a decent-sized park, with walking trails, a few basketball hoops, sports fields, and a playground. It’s nearly time for most elementary schools to let out, but for now, the place is rather deserted. The sun is shining, and the paper around our sandwiches rustles as we unwrap them.

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