Page 42 of Goal Line
His face softens so much he almost looks sad. “Areyouworried about that?”
“I don’t know. This ismybaby, though. I’m going to love him or her, no matter what. You, however, are always going to know it’s not your child. And I’m just worried that it might be a problem one day.”
Shaking his head, he swallows. “I’ve never been a parent before, so I don’t know what that’s like. But I know that I’m going to love you and that baby, and take care of you both, like you’re mine.”
My throat is so tight I can barely breathe, so something between a sigh and a sob escapes.How is this man so perfect?
The question I really should be asking myself iswhyhe’s willing to do this for me. But the only answer that makes any sense is one that would raise my hopes for something that isn’t possible. So, I put that out of my mind...for now.
“We’ve never even kissed,” I say, suddenly realizing thatthis seems like something that should have happened before the wedding.
“I love it when problems have easy solutions,” he says, his knuckles meeting my chin as he tilts my head back. Butterflies erupt in my belly as his head moves swiftly toward me. His lips sweep gently across mine, and his other hand snakes around the back of my neck, holding me closer as he gently sucks my lower lip into his mouth.
It’s all I can do to hold in the moan as I run my tongue along the line of his upper lip, and he tilts his head slightly, his tongue meeting mine as his mouth parts for me. My hands wrap around his lower back, and I push up on the balls of my feet, needing to be closer, needing to taste him. But he just chuckles and pulls back, saying, “We’re in a wedding chapel, Evie.”
His voice is teasing, like he’s calling attention to how much I clearly want him right now. And Ido. But I don’t know what that kiss meant to him.
“I don’t think that’s how you kiss your best friend,” I say, glancing away and hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel after having his lips on mine.
But he guides my face back to his until he’s able to look me in the eye. His breath coasts along my skin as he says, “I think when I marry my best friend, I get to write the rules about how I kiss her.”
A wave of desire snakes up my spine at his words, and I can’t help wondering if that means he plans on kissing me a lot. I sure hope so. But...no, that would just complicate everything.
That was just practice for the actual ceremony,I tell myself.
“You’re positive about this?” I ask.
“I’m positive. Are you?”
“I’m still not sure if what we’re doing is smart or crazy or a combination of both.” I let out a watery laugh. “But whatever it is, there’s no one else I’d rather do it with.”
Luke dips his face down and kisses my forehead before he straightens, reaching behind him and pushing the door open. “We’re ready.”
The officiant wasn’t joking about making this a quick ceremony. After a few introductory remarks, which I assume are for the benefit of the witnesses sitting behind us, he asks about the rings. Luke reaches his hand into the front pocket of his suit pants and produces a velvet box. Taking one ring out, he places it in my right hand. And when he takes the other out, it’s all I can do not to gasp.
Sweet mother of Jesus.That is not the ring you expect someone to come back from a Vegas wedding with. It looks like a family heirloom. The center emerald-cut stone must be at least four carats, and the two trapezoid-shaped diamonds on either side are equally impressive in size. The entire filigree band is encrusted in tiny, sparkling diamonds.
This is the kind of ring you’d expect to see on the hand of a princess or a billionaire’s wife. And that’s the moment it hits me. I’m becoming a Hartmann, and there’s no way a Hartmann would have a normal ring.
He takes my shaking left hand in his, grounding me as he holds the ring around the first knuckle of my finger. And as he says his vows, I stand there trying not to hyperventilate. Shortness of breath is a fun side effect I’ve become familiar with during pregnancy, but it’s not the pregnancy that’s causing it this time.
It’s my brain working overtime to process the fact thatLuke bought me the type of ring he’d buy hisactualwife...because that’s what I’ll be. And it’s like my brain is putting all its energy into understanding this fact and has forgotten to also take care of other functions, like breathing.
When Luke slips that ring all the way onto my finger, without taking his eyes off my face, I take what must be my first breath in too long. At least I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out anymore.
Okay, I can do this.
The officiant starts in with my vows, and I repeat them on autopilot, not even registering what I’m saying because my mind is reeling so fast.
What does that ring mean? Is this real to him?
Once I slide the ring onto his finger, we’re told, “By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Luke’s smile is slow and sure, almost like a smirk. Like he knows exactly how my mind is going crazy and wants to reassure me everything is going to be okay. Except, when he brings his hands to the sides of my neck, running his thumbs along my jaw and tilting my head back, it dawns on me that everything isnotgoing to be okay.
Because the way he takes my lips tentatively in his, the way he deepens that kiss, sweeping my mouth open with his tongue, and the way my entire body takes over and I kiss him back like it really means something to both of us...I know one thing with startling clarity.
Iwantmy fake husband, and I don’t think I can hide that desire anymore. And that’s the surest way to ruin the trust and the friendship we’ve spent a lifetime building.
