Page 73 of Bracing The Storm

He nods. “We did. That’s my grandmother’s ring. It was only fitting that the woman I marry should wear it.”

The woman he marries.

I keep staring at him, my brain unable to process his words. It must be a joke. He must be messing with me, just like he’s been messing with the hot water and the heating. I wait for him to break into a fit of laughter, but his expression remains solemn and a little sheepish.

And there’s something in his eyes—a glint I can’t interpret.

“You remember everything?” I ask, incredulous.

“Not everything, but most certainly more than you do.”

“But it’s not legal, is it? We didn’t have a license so it can’t possibly be.”

“Lori.” He leans over the table and takes my hand, his gaze boring into me as he says, “It’s as legal as it gets. Our pastor doubles as a registrar. Usually, there’s a three-month minimum notice to give but there are exemptions for that. You were yelling in front of his window for the entire village to hear how much we were in love and how we couldn’t wait that long to consummate the relationship. Needless to say, as a man of the cloth, he filled out all the necessary forms and married us straight away.”

I shake my head in disbelief as the shame begins to burn its way up my neck. Did I really tell the whole world I was in love with the guy? I can’t remember a thing and it really doesn’t sound like me at all. But Patrick’s brought out sides of me I never knew I had.

Like a sexual appetite only he’s been able to satisfy.

He’s so collected—too collected—while I can’t wrap my mind around the whole thing.

“It’s so hard to believe.” I reach for my cell phone to flick through the photos again. Maybe it’s all a mistake and this isn’t real. But the more proof I see, the more memories start to flood my mind: a church, Patrick and I holding hands, our gazes interlocked, as though we’re a real couple.

My breath catches in my throat as I get to the one photo that holds all the proof I need. Smiling at the camera, I’m holding up my hand to show a ring on my finger. The same ring I'm wearing now.

There’s no denying the obvious.

“Lori.” Patrick’s tone exudes patience. “It happened.”

I take a deep breath, letting it all sink in. “We’re barely more than strangers. We don’t know each other. Your fans most certainly know more about you than I do. I don’t even know your age or whether you’re allergic to shellfish. Yet you’re not rushing to annul the whole thing. You’re not calling it a mistake. Why?”

He hesitates, then shrugs as his eyes bore into me. “Because it doesn’t feel like one. Granted, it’s all a bit unconventional. But the tried and tested is overrated anyway.”

I look at him blankly. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

I shake my head, even though I have a faint idea. But that can’t be. “I think you’ll need to spell it out.”

“Why not give it a shot, Lori? It’s not like we have anything to lose. Besides, I’ve done crazier things than this.”

My blood rushes through my veins. He wants to give it a shot. My stupid heart does a somersault. I shouldn’t feel as happy as I am, and yet I can’t help myself. Time to change the subject before he realizes I’m ecstatic at the prospect of being with him.

“Yeah? You’ve done crazier things? Like what?” I ask in the hope the playful question will explain the sudden grin on my face.

He smiles that lopsided smile of his that sends my pulse into a frenzy. “I could answer all your questions right now but why the rush? We have our whole lives ahead of us to find out everything there is to know about each other.”

Our whole lives.

His expression is earnest, as though he means every word.

“I don’t know what to say.” I search his gaze, eager to let him take control. I want him to lead because this is one situation I’m not sure I know how to handle. Marriage never featured in my plans for the future. Yet here I am, apparently married to a world-famous rock star and the sexiest guy I’ve ever met.

“You remember,” I say. “All of it. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you went along with it. I don’t understand. It’s not like…” I break off, not daring to speak out the words.

It's not like you’re in love with me.

“It’s not like what?” Patrick prods.

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