Page 39 of Cherished Lands
"I do." His voice was rough, deeper than usual, vibrating through the space between us.
"And do you, Theresa Marie Belmonte..."
The fluorescent lighting caught the shadows under his jaw, highlighting the smattering of stubble he'd missed while shaving. My fingers itched to trace that roughness. Had Elliot always been this attractive, or was it just the suit? Maybe it was the way he'd been looking at me lately. He tried to hide it, but every so often, I'd catch him staring at me with an intense, focused and—dare I say it—hungry expression on his face.
"I do." My voice didn't so much as shake.Small victories.
Behind us, Emma's sniffles echoed slightly in the sparse room. Guilt soured in my stomach. This was the first time she was getting to see one of her children get married, and it was a total sham. When I glanced back, Jay had his arm around her shoulders, his expression tender and open in a way I'd neverseen my own father look at my mother. The dusty plastic plants and outdated motivational posters on the wall faded away, and for a moment, this sterile government building felt sacred after all.
"By the power vested in me by the state of Michigan, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
My heart thundered against my ribs as Elliot turned to face me. His hand curved around my waist, surprisingly gentle for such a big man. His palm was warm through the thin fabric of my dress, making goosebumps break out across my skin. I tilted my face up, expecting the perfunctory peck we'd agreed on during our hasty planning session.
Instead, his lips met mine with devastating softness. This wasn't the performative kiss from Callaghan's, calculated to convince the town of our love story. Not the hungry, desperate kisses we'd shared in his childhood bedroom that had left me breathless and aching. This was... different. Careful. Like he was savoring the moment, memorizing the shape of my mouth against his.
His thumb brushed against my ribs in small, unconscious circles, and the simple touch sent tingles racing over my body. I forgot about Emma and Jay watching. Forgot about the judge and her sacred unions. Forgot the smell of industrial cleaner and the buzz of fluorescent lights. Something warm and dangerous bloomed in my chest, and my fingers curled into the lapels of his suit jacket, crushing the expensive fabric. His taste exploded on my tongue, like the first sip of hot coffee on a cold winter morning. The soft caress of those lips made promises I shouldn't want him to keep, and when his tongue brushed mybottom lip, I had to stop myself from making a very inappropriate sound in front of his parents.
By the time we broke apart, his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. His look asked a question. Searching my face for something I wasn't sure I was ready to show. The hand on my waist tightened briefly before letting go, leaving a ghost of warmth that made me want to sway toward him. I couldn't look at him without feeling that heat spread lower, so I focused on signing the marriage certificate instead, the pen trembling slightly in my grip.
Theresa Marie Everton.
Holy shit.
I was an Everton now. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, watching Emma beam at us while Jay shook Elliot's hand with obvious pride—despite the circumstances—something suspiciously like belonging settled into my bones.
I reminded myself firmly that this was just business. One year, then divorce. Simple. Clean. Uncomplicated.
So why were my hands still shaking?
Chapter Fifteen
ELLIOT
I was married.
To Tessa Belmonte.
Tessa Everton.
Sure, the name change was a formality, but damn, it sounded good. Too good.
On the drive back from Ashford, I chanted one word in my head over and over.Fake. Fake. Fake.
But that kiss hadn't felt fake. And it felt like more than just acting on a physical attraction. Maybe it was the setting, the words spoken by the judge. Or the fact that Tessa was wearing a white dress, and my mother was crying like this was very much a real wedding.
It felt like a real wedding, even without all the guests and fanfare that usually came with those kinds of events in Sable Point.
Ifeltmarried.
My fingers ached from my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Next to me, Dad was bobbing his head alongwith some country tune on the radio. Mom was in the back, and every time I looked in the side mirror—which was about once every twenty seconds—I saw Tessa leaning against the back window, staring out at the passing landscape.
Thinking.
Processing.
I ached for her to be sitting in the seat next to me, but Everton men weren't built for backseats.
Hell, I even wished Mom and Dad weren't in the truck at all so I could talk to Tessa freely. I longed to ask her what she was thinking about. But the silence stretched on, each of us lost in our own heads.
