Page 26 of Breakout
She laughs like I’m joking, but I’m dead serious.
She has no idea the lengths I would go to for her. She will, though.
My wife.
I can’t wait to call her that. It can’t come soon enough.
six
“All right, class, that’s all for today. I’ll see you next week,” the professor says.
Everyone jumps up and rushes out of the room, but I take my time putting my things back into my bag. When I stand, I run my hands down the skirt of my dress, smoothing it out. When I ran into Grace this morning, she made sure to comment on the fact I was wearing a dress, something I rarely do.
Part of me wanted to tell her that Beckett picked it out and that the only reason I’m wearing it is because we’re getting married today, but I bit my tongue.
Beckett.
Just the thought of him makes my stomach flutter. For this being a fake marriage, he sure is taking it seriously. I never would have expected him to pick out a white lace dress that hits just above my knees and leave it in my closet for me, but he did.
He’s going to make someone a really good husband someday.
The thought makes my stomach roll. I don’t want to think about him being married to anyone else, no matter how messed up that is.
He will always be my husband first, though. When the possessive thought enters my mind, I can’t help but smile.
As soon as I step out of the classroom, I see him. Beckett has on a pair of dress pants and a white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his killer forearms. He must feel my eyes on him because he looks up, and as soon as he sees me, he smiles.
“I knew you would look amazing in that,” he says when I come to a stop next to him.
“Yeah? I wasn’t sure since it’s white.”
“You’re supposed to wear white on your wedding day,” he says quietly.
“I’m pretty sure we both know I’m not pure,” I joke back, making him smirk.
“No, no, you are not.” He reaches down and takes my hand. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
Beckett lets go of my hand and places his on my lower back, ushering me forward. For a split second, I contemplate reaching back and taking his hand in mine again. I’ve never been one for public displays of affection, but for some reason today I want to. I want everyone to know that he’s taken and mine.
When we reach his car, he walks me to the passenger side and opens the door for me.
“Thank you,” I say as I slip inside.
“You’re welcome,” he says before shutting the door.
I watch as he walks around the hood of the car to get into the driver’s side. He really is too handsome for his own good. He slips into the car and shuts the door as he turns on his car.
“To the courthouse,” he murmurs as he pulls out of the parking spot.
My knee begins to bounce as he drives, my nerves getting the best of me.
Should we really be doing this? Is this the right call? Is the inheritance really worth the possibility of ruining our friendship?
When his hand lands on my thigh, I jump.
“You okay?” he asks as he squeezes my leg.
