Page 89 of The Bodyguard's Fall

Something snagged on my dress. I slowed and saw it was Tate tugging me to a stop.

“I’m good with any way you want to play it,” he said, his eyes more serious now.

“What if I don’t know how I want to play it?”

He considered me for a long, scrutinizing moment before responding.

“Alright. How about this? I’ll read the room and respond appropriately.”

“Read the room?” I repeated.

His eyes trailed down before lifting his gaze to mine once more. “Yeah.”

There was a look on his face that I could now trace back to being the start of my wild heart’s descent into madness.

At first glance, it was sweet. But at second glance, it had an edge to it that left my mouth dry and my wits struggling to hold on. I attempted to rally.

“So, if I’m crying and screaming about things like balls and chains and how horrible my life has been to come to this point, you’ll kiss appropriately?”

A rueful smile grew on his face before he clasped his hand gently on the back of my neck and began moving us forward once more. “I’ll have to do something to shut you up.”

You see?

Madness.

Once we’d provided our documentation and were approved for our license, we went our separate ways to change our clothes. Even Tate had agreed to bring a suit, thinking the officiant might think it was strange if we didn’t at least attempt to dress up.

Since a fancy dress appropriate for a wedding hadn’t made it into my suitcase when fleeing my apartment, Ann had me borrow an old off-white dress she’d worn for a friend’s debut on Broadway. It had long sleeves and ruffled edges and fell gracefully to my calves. It flattered and skimmed my curves and ended up being understated in the loveliest way. It was the perfect thing to wear for an impromptu fake wedding day.

There was a woman from the court, helping show me where to go. She looked like the sweetest grandma, pleasantly plump, wearing a floral day dress. Her hair was matted and curled. She smiled as she slipped me a breath mint, tucked a piece of hair back where it was supposed to go, and wished me good luck. And all too soon, I found myself face to face with Tate Walker in a well-fitted dark suit with combed hair and bright-blue eyes currently taking me in—every last inch.

Plot Twist: A heart can, in fact, skip a beat. Who knew?

Our officiant introduced himself as Judge Thatcher. He eyed our nervous faces with humor as he teased us with well-worn marriage jokes. But it did as he probably intended: it calmed my nerves and gave me something to look at besides Tate.

We stood side by side before the judge while he spoke. My brain only picked up snippets here and there—the guilt at what we were doing warring with the need to justify it.

A new life together.

Love.

Trust.

Lasting, lifelong commitment.

Happy days ahead.

“You may face each other,” Judge Thatcher said.

I took a deep breath and turned. At the judge’s direction, Tate reached for my hands. My eyes made it as far as Tate’s chest before chickening out, dropping to the floor at my side, proving once again that my main-character energy was severely lacking.

A true heroine’s legs wouldn’t be shaking like this. My heart pounded. I couldn’t quite pinpoint how I was feeling. Apprehension. Anticipation. Hope? The speed at which I found myself getting married was alarming, so I wagered there was quite a bit of shock still filtering through my system as well. He was standing here about to marry me. I forced myself to raise my eyes to look at him.

Tate was looking as calm as a summer’s morning. Maybe they had some undercover-cop/bodyguard-type training for situations like this.

This doesn’t have to be a thing.

That was how he could do this so easily. It wasn’t real.