Something twists in my chest at the look on her face. The expression that tells me this might be pretend for the court system, but for Lisa, there's still a part of her that wants it to feel real. That wants her wedding day to matter, even if the marriage has an expiration date.
"Then we'll make it special," I hear myself say. "Nothing fancy, but special. Meaningful."
"How?"
I'm quiet for a moment, thinking. What would make a wedding special for Lisa? What would make her feel like this matters, like she matters?
"We'll do it at sunset," I say finally. "Up on the ridge behind my house, where you can see the whole valley. We'll ask Margaret from the station to officiate, she's licensed. Luke can be our witness, and we'll invite my brothers. Make it family."
"Your brothers?" There's something like panic in her voice. "Sawyer, they're going to ask questions. They're going to want to know why you're suddenly getting married after being single for forty-seven years."
"Let me worry about my brothers." I reach out and touch her arm gently. "They love you, Lisa. They've known you since you were eight years old. They want me to be happy, and if they think you make me happy, that's all they'll care about."
"Do I?" The question comes out so quietly I almost miss it. "Make you happy?"
The honesty in her voice, the vulnerability, stops me cold. She's looking at me like my answer actually matters, like the idea of making me happy is something she wants to be true.
And suddenly we're standing too close, breathing the same air, looking at each other like we're actually about to get married because we want to instead of because we have to. Like we're actually in love instead of just pretending to be.
Like we're about to kiss.
Tommy makes a sound, breaking the spell, and Lisa steps back, cheeks flushed.
"I should go," she says quickly. "Feed him, call my lawyer, start figuring out how to pack my life into boxes."
"Lisa." I catch her hand before she can turn away. "Tomorrow. Sunset. Will you marry me?"
She looks down at our joined hands, then back up at my face. Whatever she sees there makes her breathing change, makes her pupils dilate slightly.
"Yes," she whispers. "I'll marry you."
And as I watch her walk away, carrying the baby who's about to become my stepson, I realize I'm in deeper trouble than I thought.
Because somewhere between Lisa’s proposal and me saying yes, this stopped being about helping an old friend. This became about getting everything I've ever wanted and knowing I can only keep it for six months.
This became about admitting that I’m already falling in love with my fake wife. A fact that I won’t be able to hide for very long with her beneath my roof.
And I don’t think I want to.
4
LISA
I'm getting married in four hours, and I'm standing in Emma's closet trying not to have a panic attack.
Tommy is napping in his crib, finally worn out after spending the morning exploring every inch of Emma's apartment like he's memorizing it. Like he knows we're leaving tomorrow and wants to remember this place that was supposed to be his first real home.
The apartment feels different today. Smaller somehow, filled with boxes and the weight of endings. I've been packing since yesterday afternoon, sorting through Emma's things and my things and Tommy's things, trying to figure out what belongs in our new life and what gets stored away with the memories.
Sawyer's cabin. Our new home.
The thought sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the way he looked at me yesterday on the courthouse steps. The way his voice changed when he asked me to marry him for real, like he actually meant it.
Like this is more than just a legal arrangement to help me keep Tommy.
I pull the green dress from the closet, the one I wore to get our marriage license. It's the nicest thing I own that isn't black funeral attire, and it brings out my eyes. Sawyer noticed that yesterday. I caught him looking, caught the way his gaze lingered on my mouth when I talked.
The way he stepped closer when I asked if I made him happy.
