Page 34 of Walkoff Wedding

“When should we do it?” he says, still down on one knee with my hand clasped in his. “The sooner, the better, right? How about… right now?”

“Right now?”

He shrugs, the dimple in his cheek popping as he chuckles. “Why not? There’s a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel down in the French Quarter. A buddy of mine got drunk married a few months ago, and the place was legit. We could go there. They do same-day licenses like Vegas does. We’ve got the details figured out, so now we just… do it.”

Holy cannoli.

I’m about to get married. The thought is both terrifying and exciting all at the same time. Even if technically the marriage isn’t real.

“But… I don’t even have a dress,” I say. “Or any of my stuff, for that matter.”

Grant pushes to his feet and drops my hand as he stands. “Okay, pivoting. How about we stop somewhere in the Quarter and you pick out a dress?”

I chew my lip as I mull over the thought. One of my favorite thrift stores is in the Quarter, and I probably could find something that would be worthy enough to get fake married in. “Okay.”

“Fuck. I just thought about something,” he mutters, tugging at the short strands of his hair.

“What?”

“We gotta have witnesses for the license. I’m pretty sure that’s how this goes? I can… probably call Davis and see if he’ll do it, pending he’s not hungover and still in bed. Do you have anyone who can be a witness for you?”

There are only two people who I would ever consider asking to witness a marriage, and I’m pretty sure if I didn’t ask both of them to be there, they’d disown me.

“Uh… Do you think I could maybe have two?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. “I don’t think I can do this without them.”

“Whoever you want to be there is perfectly fine with me. How about I go take a quick shower, call Davis, and throw on something to wear? Shit, what do I wear to my own wedding?” he asks, a sudden look of panic on his face.

I glance down at his very naked chest and squeak, “Clothes. Definitely clothes.”

The French Quarter is one of the most magical places in the world. Not that I’ve seen much of the world outside of New Orleans, but it’s something I just know in my soul. There is no other place like it.

It’s a menagerie of charming cobblestone streets and wrought iron balconies that are adorned with flowers, beads, and century-old traditions. It’s the heart of the city, full of rich culture that screams to be heard. And no one screams louder than the French Quarter.

While a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel was never a place I imagined myself getting married, I’m glad that it’s here in the Quarter, in a place that will always feel like home to me.

And I realize that I probably shouldn’t be nervous because our marriage is simply nothing more than an arrangement, but I can’t help the swirl of butterflies in my stomach as we stand inside the small chapel.

It’s quaint and undeniably charming. The inside resembles an old church, with vintage wooden pews that have small floral arrangements fashioned along the ends that face the aisle. Arched, stained glass windows line the walls, each pane a prism of light that paints the pews, walls, and small podium in the front in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors.

I would imagine that there are far worse places to be married.

“Are you… sure this is what you want to do, cher? Absolutely sure?” Amos lowers his voice, whispering quietly.

Without hesitation, I nod. “Yes. I promise, I’m okay with this. This is what I want to do,” I tell him as I reach out and lace my fingers in his, squeezing gently. “Thank you for being here. Both of you. I couldn’t imagine doing this without you.”

I look between Amos and Earl, and an overwhelming sense of peace hits me directly in the chest because I truly don’t know where I would be without them. They’re the only family I’ve ever known after I lost my mom. The only ones who have loved me unconditionally, through every season of my life.

“We just want you to be happy. Whatever that means, Addie,” Earl retorts gruffly. This big, burly man who’s never been one for emotion suddenly has unshed tears in his eyes, mirroring the fresh ones shining in mine.

“You know we’ll always be here to stand by your side, cher. Always. To support any decision you make,” Amos says.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him in a fierce hug.

When I pull back, I suck in a shaky breath and smile. “This is just an arrangement between Grant and I, but I’m okay, and I’m ready to do this. I’ll be able to save Ever After, and honestly? He’s my friend. One of the only people outside of you that I trust. He’s a really good guy.”

I can still see the look of concern on their faces and the hesitation in their eyes, but I’m making the right decision. I can feel it in my gut.

Grant’s the right choice.

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