Something terrifyingly close to love.
"It's time," the court clerk announces, poking her head into the room. "Everyone's ready."
My brothers follow me into the small courtroom where the judge waits behind his bench. Sylvie sits in the front row, dabbing at her eyes already, though nothing's happened yet. The room is otherwise empty, which is fine by me. This moment, fake as it may be, isn't for public consumption.
The door at the back opens, and I turn, expecting to see Savannah in the simple white dress she picked out last week.Instead, Sheriff Parker stands there, looking uncomfortable in his dress uniform.
"What's he doing here?" I mutter to Jax.
Before he can answer, Savannah appears beside her father. My breath catches at the sight of her. The dress is exactly as I remember, modest but elegant, hugging curves I've learned intimately over the past two weeks. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and she's wearing more makeup than usual, highlighting those big dark eyes that see right through me.
She's beautiful. And she looks absolutely terrified.
The sheriff leans down to whisper something in her ear. She nods, visibly steeling herself before taking his arm. The sight of Tom Parker walking his daughter down the makeshift aisle toward me is so unexpected I almost laugh. Two weeks ago, he was ready to shoot me. Now he's giving away his daughter, even if his expression suggests he'd rather be getting a root canal.
"Take care of her," he says gruffly as they reach me, placing Savannah's trembling hand in mine.
"I will." The promise comes easily because I mean it, arrangement or not.
He nods once, then takes his seat beside Sylvie, who looks as shocked by his presence as I feel.
"You okay?" I whisper to Savannah as we turn toward the judge.
"Fine." But her voice wavers, and she won't quite meet my eyes.
The judge begins the ceremony, his voice droning through the standard introduction. I barely hear him, too focused on Savannah's hand in mine, cold despite the warm day, her pulse racing beneath my fingers.
"I understand the groom has prepared his own vows," the judge says, nodding to me.
I clear my throat, pulling the folded paper from my pocket. Words I spent hours writing last night, trying to find the right balance between our public story and my growing private feelings.
"Savannah," I begin, turning to face her fully. "From the moment you stood up for me on Main Street, something in me recognized something in you. Your courage. Your determination. Your refusal to let others dictate your choices."
Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't look away.
"I never expected to find someone who sees me clearly. Who looks past what others say and makes her own judgments. Who challenges me to be better than I am." My voice grows rougher, the practiced words suddenly insufficient. "These past months have changed me. You've changed me. And I promise to spend every day trying to be the man you deserve. To support your dreams as fiercely as you've defended mine. To build a life where neither of us has to choose between who we are and who others want us to be."
A tear slips down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb, the gesture intimate and unplanned.
"Whatever comes next," I conclude, voice dropping so only she can hear the raw honesty in it, "I'm grateful for the time I've had with you."
The judge nods, apparently satisfied with my performance. "And now, the bride's vows."
Savannah stares at me, tears streaming freely now. She opens her mouth, closes it again. Her hand tightens around mine almost painfully.
"I..." Her voice breaks. She tries again. "I can't. This isn't right."
My heart sinks as she drops my hand, turning to face the small gathering.
"I need to tell the truth." She takes a shaky breath. "This wedding is a sham."
A collective gasp fills the room. Her father half rises from his seat, face darkening with anger.
"Savannah," I start, reaching for her, but she steps back, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, Colt. I'm so sorry." Her voice steadies, resolution hardening her features. "But I can't lie anymore. Not to them, and not to myself."
She turns to her father. "Dad, I proposed this arrangement to Colt because I needed to be married by my twenty-third birthday to inherit Grandma's house. It was my idea, not his. He agreed to help me."
