“It’s no coincidence.” Somehow Eisenhower had caught wind of Zach’s plans and tried to copy them. Zach set his teeth and seethed in Eisenhower’s direction.
“Shut up, Travis,” Eisenhower ground out.
“We’d be happy to be witnesses for their marriage,” Piper said, sunny and sweet. Then under her breath she whispered into Zach’s ear, “I don’t know what your history is with them, but this is their big day. Let’s make it special.”
“Oh, it’s nothing special, believe me.”
Piper pinched him, and he relented. “Fine.”
Jerks!
Well, Zach wasn’t going to take this lying down. He’d expose them.
Except—then Eisenhower could expose Zach right back.
It wouldn’t work.
Could he still marry her, when the threat of exposure loomed? Was it worth it?
The silver lining appeared faster than he expected.
If he and Piper got Eisenhower’s signature on their marriage certificate, there was no way Eisenhower could later come forward and say the marriage was a fake. It instantly served to undercut any claims Eisenhower might hang over him in the future.
Besides, go ahead and let Eisenhower and Nakamura play that game. They didn’t look one bit the part. Zach doubted a single staffer at CBH would say they thought the marriage could be real, not without a serious cash bribe.
Meanwhile, Zach and Piper Quinn—soon to be Piper Travis—would be the most convincing newlyweds that ever graced the CBH potluck, or any other top secret event for which Zach would now be on the invite-list.
Turning to Father Ryan he said, “What a happy accident. My blushing bride is right. We’d love to serve as witnesses to their marriage. Then, if it’s all right, we’ll love having them serve as witnesses to our nuptials.”
Insurance. It was exactly what Zach needed.
“We’ll have to leave right away,” Eisenhower said. Of course. “Honeymoons are a demanding master.”
At this, Sylvia Nakamura gave Eisenhower the death glare. This was no honeymoon-bound couple. Theory proved.
Piper spoke with sweetness, the New Zealand lilt in her accent making an appeal to them.
“Please? I’m sure we don’t want to delay you, but Father Ryan could make the ceremony short and simple. I mean, we just met,” she turned to the priest, “but I’m confident in your skills of brevity already.” She smiled, and everyone was disarmed.
“I do have a set of prepared thoughts, but I also have the world’s shortest marriage ceremony, if you prefer.”
“Sylvia and I will take that one. Let’s just move ahead with it,” Eisenhower growled.
In less than ninety seconds, Father Ryan delivered a skeletal version of the ceremony that ended with, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Sylvia’s mouth tugged into a distasteful frown, and Eisenhower waved his hand in front of his nose.
They weren’t going to kiss? Did business-arrangement marriages mean no kissing? Because Zach had been counting on the wedding kiss—even if it was the only one he got out of the whole deal. Ever since he’d sat in that gondola within centimeters of Piper’s full lips, aching to taste them, he’d barely been able to focus at the office. Those lips had held him spellbound. He was getting his kiss, regardless of the empty example of these other two fakers.
In the suspenseful moment between Sylvia and Eisenhower, Zach stole a glance at Piper. She hadn’t gone all red at the mention of the wedding kiss, so maybe she wasn’t as averse to the idea as she seemed in the gondola, where he’d given her a serious opening and she’d pulled away.
“Go ahead. Kiss your bride. These witnesses don’t mind a bit. Do y’all?” Father Ryan had a jolly way of wheedling, but Sylvia and Eisenhower had their jolly dial cranked to low. “When it’s a marriage, it doesn’t count as a public display of affection. At least not in a bad way.”
Both sides gulped visibly. Finally, smack. Their faces met, and the obviously distasteful deed was done. Their kiss lasted half a second. Sylvia pulled a pained smile, and Eisenhower’s eyes narrowed at Zach, a See, pal? I’m smart enough to follow my own advice kind of sneer.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Eisenhower.” Piper reached out to shake their hands, but Sylvia was having none of it.
“Oh, there’s no Mrs. Eisenhower here. I’m keeping my name.” Oh, was she, now? Zach hadn’t been at CBH as long as either of those two, but he’d been there enough years to know that hyphenated names were too new-fangled for the upper crust there. He didn’t even want to know what they thought about women who simply kept their maiden names.
Eisenhower spoke without moving his jaw or lips. “That’s not what we discussed.”
“It’s not up for discussion now.” Sylvia huffed a moment and then turned a strained smile to the priest. “Thank you, Father Ryan.”
Some paperwork ensued, Zach signing on the dotted line as witness. He resisted the urge to sneer at Eisenhower as Father Ryan put his own name on the record as officiator.
“Shall we?” Father Ryan turned to Piper and Zach, hands extended to them. And Zach’s mind emptied to nothing but the words you may kiss the bride.
“We’d like the words of wisdom, please,” Piper said. “The ones you’ve taken so much time to prepare.”
For a second, Zach wanted to protest, but then he realized what her motive had to be: showing Father Ryan respect and appreciation.
How did she manage it? How could Piper be thinking about how this stranger felt right now, during her own huge life event? Unless, obviously, it wasn’t actually huge for her.
“Please, we’d love to hear them.”
Father Ryan looked pleased. He cleared his throat and began, without notes.
“I believe there’s a power in marriage, a pure marriage, one that’s blessed by the help of God, to better both of the parties involved. It’s a refining process, a strengthening, a coming together and uniting of man and woman to make them more than the sum of their individual parts. The world may define that term as synergy, but the heavens call it blessed.” He pronounced the word blessed with two syllables.
Zach listened at first with agreement, and then with a touch of horror. Yeah, this wasn’t right. They shouldn’t be doing this.
“Thank you, Father.” Zach interrupted him, before he talked about vows before God and man and the sacred undertaking, all of which Zach knew too well, and all of which their current mindset made charade of. “Let’s proceed, shall we?”
“Yes, I can see you’re anxious to get this going.” He winked at Piper. “And I can see why.”
Piper gulped, something suddenly draining the color from her face.
“Witnesses, are you ready?” They were.
It dawned on Zach that they hadn’t gone out of Father Ryan’s office to stand in front of the altar of the church, and relief poured into him, especially considering the sermon. Piper wanted a church wedding, but that would take it a step too far, mocking something sacred, and she’d never want to be that person.
Neither would Zach.
“Do you, Zachary Miles Travis—” He startled at the mention of his middle name. Same as his dad’s. Who wasn’t here for his wedding. His fake wedding. He’d always pictured his wedding as happening with his parents beside him, with Libby standing by, holding flowers, his mother with a handkerchief touching the corner of her eye.
“—take Piper Meredith Quinn to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Lawfully wedded. The words seemed accompanied by a klaxon alarm. Was any of this lawful? His mind spun. Consequences. There were consequences to what they were doing, whether or not he’d considered that fact over the weekend.
This decision mattered. This vow mattered. He shoved the accusatory thought away and forced his mouth to speak.
“I do.”
∞∞∞
Piper gripped the stems of the bluebonnets so tightly they crushed.
Zach said I do? He hadn’t backed out?
I
nstead, he was looking down at her, his gaze imitating the best look of a lovelight in his eyes she’d ever seen. Tender and sweet. Good show—he should’ve been an actor. Zach had missed his calling.
“Do you, Piper Meredith Quinn, take Zachary Miles Travis as your lawfully wedded husband—” That lawfully wedded phrase came like a slap.
How lawful was this? Even though there were surely worse examples of patched-together weddings than theirs in the history of weddings, it was sad to think this was being done with a sunset in mind, a dissolution as its endgame.
Zach touched her forearm, his brows worried. “Piper?”
“Uh—yes. I mean, I do.” There. She’d said it. Like it or not, it was done. The license obtained, the words said.
“I now pronounce you, Zachary and Piper, man and wife. You may kiss your lovely, blushing bride.” Father Ryan clasped his hands at his chest. “This is the best part, and the sole reason I make time at any time of day, with any ceremony young love requests.” He turned toward Zach’s friends. “Call me an old softie, but seeing the first kiss of a newly formed union is the payoff for me.”
Now Father Ryan turned and stared at them intently. Heat raced from Piper’s chest up her neck to her cheeks. Newly formed family, that was what he’d said. She and Zach were a family now in the eyes of the law—and possibly of God.
Everything inside her faltered.
Meanwhile, Zach had obviously heard Father Ryan, too. But unlike Piper’s faltering worry, he didn’t hesitate. He swooped.
Catching her almost unawares, with one smooth motion, he’d swept her into his strong arms and pressed his mouth to hers, first with a tenderness as he kissed just her lower lip, testing, suggesting an offer of more. Showers of tingles washed through her. He tasted of mint and citrus and lip balm. The kiss’s sweetness was soon replaced by a firm insistence as he took her whole mouth, each movement growing in intensity, each touch new and fresh, the scruff of his upper lip abrasive against her own, setting every nerve in her afire.
All Piper’s faltering, all her fears, all around her: the priest and the office and the cathedral and the city and the world fell away. There existed only Piper and Zach and the stars and this kiss floating in a haze of bliss in all the vastness of God’s universe.
He deepened the kiss, and her soul unfurled and wrapped around him. Warmth became heat that became a burning flame.
Soon, she became aware of a smattering of applause. She opened her eyes as Zach pulled away, touching the side of his mouth. He blinked five or six times—like maybe he’d gone off-planet, too.
“Ay caramba,” he whispered.
“Ay caramba is right,” the other new bride said, fanning herself. “Congratulations.”
It took a second for the floor and ceiling to stop trading places. Then, before Piper knew it, she was signing something on the dotted line. Officially married. The witnesses, strange but accommodating, signed and left. Father Ryan added his signature, and just like that—she was Mrs. Zachary Travis.
Mrs. Travis. She gulped and tried to catch her breath.
Zach took her hand, and whispering in her ear, sent shivers down her spine. “Congratulations, Mrs. Travis.”
Inside her right shoe, her toes curled up tight.
It was time to leave, as married people. Father Ryan shook their hands heartily, a satisfaction beaming from his round features.
“Now, that was what I call a kiss. You two have the passion for each other that precedes a good union. But not only that, I see the compassion between you as well.” He clamped them each on a shoulder, gave them warm looks. Sending them on their way, he said a final word: “May God bless your union.”
Piper stood still, momentarily shattered by the phrase.
When Zach took her outside, neither of them spoke for a minute. Piper’s whole life had changed since setting foot inside the church a few minutes ago. Forevermore, this morning’s event would serve as a dividing point between before and after.
Now, she lived in the after.
The morning sunshine soaked into her as they paused on the front steps of San Fernando’s Cathedral. A clunking in the bell tower grabbed her attention, and the bell began chiming nine o’clock so near and loudly that even if she’d been able to speak, they couldn’t have heard one another.
That kiss had rendered her mute. It might be weeks before she could recover.
Wedding dress, check. Flowers, check. Church wedding, check. Even a May God bless your union, surprisingly check—twice.
Incredible, mind-bending, ache-inducing kiss, check-check.
For as hasty as this all came about, few things lacked: only that her parents could have known so they could celebrate even if from afar. That, and that her dad hadn’t given permission were really the only letdowns.
Even the groom himself didn’t seem too shabby. She gave Zach a sidelong glance. He was gazing at her, holding her hand, looking like he might actually have enjoyed himself in there. Like this wasn’t a letdown to him in any way.
Not that this wedding should count. She shouldn’t compare it to her dream wedding. It was a fake, and she was being foolish to even hold it up to any checklist she’d made before reality bit into her dreams and forced her into a sham preview of what her real marriage might be like someday. Someday, when it was perfect.
When she got married for real, she’d make sure her fiancé knew to ask her father.
Sunlight made her ring glint, and she glanced down at it again. It was the most incredible color of green in this light. She held it out to catch the sun.
“Maybe it’s not a diamond, or a rare ruby, but—I saw it and it made me think of you.”
A little tear welled in Piper’s eye. Under the circumstances, she was shocked. Wasn’t this just about business? The personally chosen gemstone didn’t feel like business.
“I have a confession, since we’re at a church.”
“What’s that?” she found her words again.
“The church wedding wasn’t just for you. I also thought it would be more convincing to the partners at Crockett, Bowie, and Houston than a justice of the peace wedding.”
“Oh.” Made sense. So, it was still about business. Right. Her bubble deflated a fraction.
Zach’s phone chirped, breaking her out of what was left of the spell. He swiped it a few times, and then held it up for her to look at. Please say it wouldn’t be a cute cat meme for a wedding day.
Actually, no. It was something different entirely, something so unexpected and disarming and perfect, that the spell instantly wove itself around her once again.
“Hi, sweetums. Can you believe you’re a married woman? We’re over the moon about it.”
She looked closer. What? Really? Mom and Dad? They’d sent a video? Agog, and vibrating with emotion, Piper turned to Zach.
“How did they know?”
But he shushed her. “It’s live.”
The feed played on, crackly and occasionally buffer-delayed, but those were her parents’ faces, from the far side of the globe. So happy was she to see them that she barely noted the fact they’d both gained a good fifty pounds since she last saw them. Maybe more. And what was with that hair? New Zealand hadn’t done their hair any favors. Okay, she noticed, but they were a lovely sight nonetheless.
“Here’s the song your old dad wrote for your wedding.” He got out that old guitar of his with the smashed side. “I wrote it late last night, the second we heard of your glorious morning nuptials.”
With gusto he sang—not well—something with a theme of sunrise and wedding bells and joy.
Amazement melted her like cheese under the broiler. The song wasn’t great. Parts didn’t make sense or else she couldn’t hear well, but what she knew was that her parents were aware of this event, and they weren’t only not upset, they were singing for her. Love for them and their quirky devotion to her spun a cocoon of happiness around Piper’s heart.
When Dad finished, she and Zach both clapped, and Dad bowed.
“Welp, gotta run. International rates.” Mom and Dad blew her kisses, and they were gone.
“How—?” She turned to Zach, tears prickling in the backs of her eyes. “That was your phone they called on.”
“When I called to ask his permission, we scheduled it.”
Father’s permission—check. Emotion puffed up in Piper, like a marshmallow in a microwave, and she suddenly didn’t care about business arrangements or oral contracts or professional boundaries. Joy overwhelmed her, displacing all propriety. In a burst of pure bliss, she threw her arms around Zach and kissed his neck, his jaw, his cheek. In a second, he’d turned his head, and her lips were on his, and the delight swelling in her—she poured all of it into him.
“I can’t believe—I haven’t seen them in months.” Their faces had become hazy, and now they were real again, not nearly so far away as they’d once seemed, as if they’d gone to the afterlife and now returned at Zach and his technology’s beckoning. “You arranged all that?”
“I talked them through the video conferencing process.” He nuzzled her hair, and she relaxed into him. For a while, in the sunshine, he held her close, not saying much. His hands roamed up her back. She rested her head on his chest. The fit was uncanny, and he smelled like allspice and a fresh spring rain.
“Zach, I like how you do business.”
He half-laughed. “Good. You’re not too bad at business yourself.”
Piper’s mouth still tingled from their kisses, her body pinging and her fingertips throbbing. He created sensations in her she never recalled feeling before. Zach Travis, her husband, could be extremely dangerous to her promises to herself about waiting for marriage—er, real marriage. Now that she’d tasted his kiss, she had even more sure knowledge of that fact.
But how—and why—was she supposed to resist future tasting, now that she’d promised to be his? The why loomed bigger in this moment, quickly being eclipsed by a why not? With no obvious logical response.
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