Page 56 of What About Us
“You’re sure?” I ask.
She nods. “I mean, it isreallycrazy. But if I’m gonna do something crazy, it might as well be with you.”
I crack a half smile. We’re actually doing this. Finnley is going to be my wife. I swallow, fighting the emotion climbing in my throat. The marriage may not be real, but it still feels so fucking good.
“Will you stay tonight?” she asks, eyes searching mine.
There’s honestly nothing I want more. I press a kiss to her forehead and climb off the bed. “Sure. I’ll go change.”
She nods.
When I’m halfway to the door, I’m reminded of something. I turn back. “Do you remember when Hutch got ordained to marry that hippie-dippie couple that he met hiking one year?”
She smirks and nods, looking so fucking beautiful in the dim light of her room. The curve of her hip peaks from under the covers, and her hair is coming undone from the messy bun, draping across her pillow.
“Yeah, why?”
I choose my next words carefully. “I don’t think those things ever expire. If you feel comfortable telling Hutch, maybe we can do it at the lake? It’s secluded, and he won’t tell anyone if we ask him not to. And his place means something to us.”
I might be imagining it, but I swear her eyes light up. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and nods. “I’ll think about it.”
I leave her room to change into a pair of sweats, and when I come back in, she’s asleep, her breathing even and deep. I click off the lamp and slip in beside her. She immediately turns into me, tucking her head in the crick of my neck, and snuggles close on my chest.
Chapter 18
Finnley
“So, um, when arewe doing this?” I ask, a nervous flutter filling my belly. I’m standing in the kitchen, stirring cream into my coffee, the morning after agreeing to marry my best friend. Hudson is sitting at the counter in the same spot he was the other day when he opened up about being unsettled.
Last night, I woke up multiple times to find him wrapped around me, or me around him. It should have felt weird, given our conversation just hours prior, but it didn’t. It felt comfortable and right. Like there was no reason whatsoever for him to not be in my bed; like we were already an engaged couple.
My God,I’m engaged.Sure, there’s no ring, and it’s for completely pragmatic reasons, but if someone would have told me yesterday that I would wake up engaged this morning, I would have laughed in their face.
Hudson shrugs, looking up from his phone. “I think you can get a license same day. Just have to set up an appointment with the county for the actual ceremony. Unless I talk to Hutch. As soon as you decide what you’d like to do, we can pick a day. Maybe next week?”
My mouth drops open. His expression is light and unaffected. “Next week?”
I don’t know why I’m surprised. For as long as I’ve known Hudson, he’s never done anything half-assed. It’s no wonder he’s already done his research. I kind of love that about him. And I also love that he’s leaving the ball in my court. He knows I don’t have another solution to get insurance. So, leaving the choice of ceremony up to me at least makes me feel like I have control over something. Even if it's just the illusion of a choice.
“Sure, why not? You need a new pump, and the sooner we get hitched, the sooner you can get an appointment with your doctor. After that, it’s just a matter of calling the insurance company.”
God, this is crazy. Completely, undeniably insane. What’s crazier is that I’m actually excited. Being Hudson’s wife, even if in name only, sounds strangely…perfect. But as I study him, my stomach does a little somersault. Is this the right thing to do? Is it fair to marry him when there’s a real possibility that my feelings for him are changing?
I mean, it’s not like I’d ever act on them, right? We’re still just two friends, getting married for completely practical reasons. I’m probably overthinking things. I’m confusing his helping me with something more. And just because I don’t want him to date anyone else, doesn’t mean I want more with him. It just means I like having my best friend all to myself. Who wouldn’t?
“Jameson?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
I shake my head and screw the lid on my travel mug. “Sorry, what?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and levels his hazel eyes on me. “Should I talk to Hutch?”
I think about the courtroom I spent an afternoon in when I had jury duty a few years back. It likely wouldn’t look exactly the same, but the thought of getting married in some dark, old, wood-paneled room withan elderly judge and generic brass flagpoles makes me cringe. People get charged for DUIs and disorderly conduct in those very same rooms.
Getting married there sounds awful. Especially when my mind conjures up the property out at Hutch’s. The lake, the mountains, the trees, and wildflowers. We spend a lot of time there during the summers, and even though none of our family will be there to witness it, it really does sound perfect. There are a lot of memories out there, which has another thought springing to mind.
“What about witnesses?” I ask, running my braid through my fingers.
Having a courthouse wedding would provide its own witness in the form of court clerks, but if we want to do it at the lake, it will require telling someone besides Hutch. I’m not sure how I feel about that. A sting of guilt sparks in my stomach at keeping this from Wren. But if I tell her, she’ll want to tell Hank. And though he isn’t one for gossip, the fewer people who know, the better. Especially when this all ends.
