Page 22 of Fake Out Hearts

“Mr. Camden, would you like to share a few words?” he asks Theo when he’s finished, and Theo nods. I turn to face him, and he takes both of my hands in his.

“Becca,” he starts, and I hold my breath. It didn’t even occur to me to come up with vows, but now that I’m staring into Theo’s piercing green eyes and he’s clearing his throat to say his, I feel stupid for overlooking it.

“From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. And that one day, whenever I got the chance, I’d make you see and believe it too,” he says, and my throat squeezes shut—because he already has. For fuck’s sake, he’s marrying me so I can stay in the country, and if that doesn’t make a girl feel special, then I don’t know what will.

“I may not know you very well, but anyone with eyes can see how brave and kind and smart you are. That’s why it killed me when I saw the sad look on your face the night I met you. I saw that beautiful light in you going out, and I promised myself I’d never let you feel that way ever again, so long as you were in my life. And now you’ll always be in my life, no matter what happens, so I hope you’ll always be smiling. That’s my mission from now on— to make you feel like the princess you are. To be a haven you need for as long as you need it.”

By the time he finishes, I’m melting a little inside. I had no idea he had felt any of that, or that he paid much attention to me at all that night when we ran into each other outside The Hideout.

Theo and Elvis are both staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something in response. But how the hell am I supposed to followthat?

I clear my throat and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I lock eyes with Theo, my heart pounding while I search for something to say. And then the words come all at once, pouring out of me in a wave.

“I’ve never known anyone like you,” I whisper. “Someone who would bend over backward, move heaven and earth, just to help a stranger. Someone who could turn the absolute worst night of my life into the best. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to express how grateful I am, but even though this is crazy, I’m glad I’m doing it with you.”

I finish speaking, and Theo beams at me and squeezes my hands.

Elvis the officiant holds a heart-shaped pillow down to us. Two golden bands sparkle in the chandelier’s light, and my breath catches in my throat. This is it, the moment of truth. Theo reaches for one of the bands, and I offer him my left hand. He lines up the ring with my finger but doesn’t put it on yet.

“Becca Summers, do you take this man, Theo Camden, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” Elvis asks, and I feel like my heart is trying to claw its way out of my throat.

“I—I do,” I stammer, and Theo slides the ring onto my finger. I’m not sure how the chapel got the ring size right since I didn’t give them any measurements, but it fits perfectly. And now it’s my turn, so I take the other ring and repeat Theo’s movements. Elvis turns to him.

“Theo Camden, do you take this woman, Becca Summers, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely I do,” Theo says, and I laugh as I put the band on his finger.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Elvis announces.

Theo and I lean into each other. Our lips meet, and our arms wrap around each other, holding us in place. Our mouths don’t open, probably since neither of us are sure where we stand withthat kind of thing right now, but the kiss goes on much longer than I meant for it to.

Theo finally pulls away, and I stumble a bit when my body leans forward on its own like it’s chasing his lips. My nervous system is thrumming, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment at the realization. We just got married, but we aren’t together. Not really. This is all for show.

Theo flashes me his easy, charming grin.

“You’re not a stranger anymore, princess. You’re my wife,” he says. I beam at him while the organ strikes up its haunting chords again, and despite the roiling, churning feeling in my stomach, I hold on to his hand for dear life and let him lead me out of the chapel.

Because I don’t have any idea what comes next.

The next two hours pass in a blur that I can barely keep track of. One moment, I’m signing what feels like an endless flow of legal forms while the Elvis impersonator beams at me, and the next, I’m standing in line waiting to board a plane back to LA. I feel like I teleported from the chapel to the airport because I have no recollection of what happened in between, but staring down at the new ring on my finger never fails to anchor me back in reality.

Because this is real now. Very real. I just married Theo Camden in a shotgun wedding barely more than twenty-four hours after getting dumped on camera. And the basic but sufficient gold band the chapel provided me is irrefutable proof of what we just did. I couldn’t take this back even if I wanted to, and as crazy as this spur-of-the-moment wedding was, what’s crazier is that I’m not sure I want to.

Still, all at once, a wave of nerves crashes over me, sucking me into their undertow, and I struggle to breathe.

Have I completely lost it? At some level, I feel like if I’m already asking myself the question, I already know the answer.But my body seems to know what to do without my input, so I watch my hand pass a boarding pass to the gate agent on its own, then follow Theo down the jet bridge and into our first class return seats, this time in the first row.

I take the window seat again, more because I need something to distract myself with than anything else, and immediately my gaze drifts out to the tarmac. The workers zip around beneath the plane on foot and in carts, transporting the baggage and fuel and supplies for the plane. It strikes me how ordinary their days must be, especially compared to mine. And I can’t help wondering how many other shotgun brides have found themselves feeling the exact way I do now on this very same plane.

Theo’s hand finds mine, jolting me out of my thoughts as he murmurs, “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

I let out a little laugh, unable to help it. “How did you know?”

“You haven’t said a word in at least an hour, and you haven’t looked me in the eye in about as long, so call it an educated guess,” he says, then flashes his signature grin at me.

“Am I really that easy to read?”

He shrugs. “I’m your husband. I’m supposed to be able to pick up on these things, right?”

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