Page 77 of Stolen Vows

His genuine concern feels like a balm around rough edges I didn’t even realize I had. I exhale slowly, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. “I appreciate that, brother. But I’m good. If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here.”

He studies me for a long moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied with what he sees. “Alright then. Let’s get you hitched.”

The words send a thrill through me, anticipation and nerves tangling in my gut. I’m about to marry Francesca Ashburn. The woman who’s captivated me from the first moment I saw her.

“Oh shit. What about the marriage license? When do I sign it?”

“I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” I checked the marriage license this morning, tracing my finger over her elegant signature next to mine. It made something clench in my chest, a visceral satisfaction at seeing our names linked together in stark black ink. Legally binding us as partners, a team.

I remind myself it’s just logistics. A solution, a means to an end. One year, and we both walk away with what we want. I tell myself that the weight in my chest is just practicality settling in.

But then she appears at the end of the hall with Romeo in tow, and my brain empties out of any reasonable thought.

Francesca rounds the corner and my breath catches in my throat. She’s a goddamn vision in her dress. It’s softly neutral, some kind of mix of beige and soft white. And fuck me, it hugs every single curve in a way that makes my mouth go dry and my pants get tight.

Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in loose waves, a few tendrils framing her face. She’s holding a small bouquet of sunflowers, their cheerful yellow a perfect contrast to the elegant lines of her dress.

But it’s the look on her face that steals my breath entirely. And her eyes—Jesus. She meets my gaze without hesitation, and my stomach fucking drops. She looks calm, sure. Like she’s exactly where she wants to be.

Walking straight for me.

I didn’t ask her what she was wearing, but maybe I should have. Then I could’ve at least prepared myself a little bit. Instead of being blindsided by her beauty. I school my expression as best as I can, shoving my hands into my pockets before I can do something stupid like whisk her away before this even starts.

“Damn,” Beau mutters beside me. “I can’t believe you pulledher.”

I cut him a look. “That’s my wife, asshole.”

He flashes me a shit-eating grin. “Not yet, she isn’t.”

I hold his gaze. “Eloise?”

“Yeah?” Eloise stops next to Beau. “What’s up?”

I let my own shit-eating grin grow wide on my face as I stare at my brother. “Beau here was just telling me?—”

“About how much I love you,” Beau interrupts, throwing his arm over Eloise’s shoulders and steering her in the other direction. “Let’s give the happy couple a minute, yeah?”

Francesca’s still halfway down the hall, but I can’t wait any longer. My feet move of their own accord, carrying me toward her in long, purposeful strides. The low murmur of conversation fades away, the bustling courthouse narrowing down to just her. Just us.

Francesca’s steps falter for a moment as she sees me approaching, her eyes widening slightly. But then a slow, radiant smile blooms across her face, and my heart stutters in my chest.

That smile, it’s everything.

“Francesca.” I stop in front of her, reaching out and taking her free hand in mine. I bring her hand up to my lips, flipping her wrist over and placing a kiss on the delicate skin over her pulse. I linger for a breath, inhaling the scent of sugared lemons. “You look exquisite.”

Her cheeks grow pink as she ducks her head, peering up at me through thick lashes. “Thank you, Graham. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

I press another kiss to her ring finger and straighten up. “Do you still want to do this? We can leave right now if you’ve changed your mind.”

I search her face, looking for any hint of hesitation or doubt. But all I see is calm certainty, a quiet confidence that settles something deep inside me.

She squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I’m still in if you are.”

The words wash over me, sinking into my skin and wrapping around my heart. I exhale slowly, some tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying melting away.

“Always.” I slide my fingers between hers and lead her down the hall. The moment Francesca and I turn the corner, all conversation in the waiting area quiets.

She tenses, just slightly, but I feel it. The way her fingers twitch in mine.

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