Page 70 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
The reality was far more complicated.
The courthouse doors opened, and Sadie walked in with mother. Even from across the room, I could see the family resemblance—the same dark hair, though streaked with gray on the older woman, the same determined set to their shoulders. But where Sadie moved with quiet grace, her mother's posture radiated defiance and defensiveness.
"Miss Quinn!" Eloise jumped up and ran to them before I could stop her. "You're here! Are you ready to be my new mommy?"
Sadie caught Eloise in a hug, but her eyes found mine over my daughter's head. There was something different in her expression today—a guardedness that hadn't been there two nights ago when we'd signed the paperwork.
"Hello, Eloise." Sadie's voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor underneath. "I'd like you to meet my mother, Janet."
The older woman studied my daughter with sharp eyes. "So you're the little girl my daughter can't stop talking about."
"Yep! I'm Eloise. Are you going to live with us too? Daddy says you've been sick, but Miss Quinn takes really good care of people when they're not feeling well."
I approached them slowly, extending my hand to Sadie's mother. "Mrs. Quinn. Thank you for coming today."
She looked at my outstretched hand as if it might bite her but she didn't take it. "I didn't have much choice, did I? My daughter seems to think this is the only way forward."
"Mom," Sadie said quietly, but Janet continued.
"I want you to know that I don't like this arrangement. I don't like being a charity case, and I don't like my daughter having to marry some rich man to solve our problems."
Eloise looked confused, glancing between the adults as she tried to process the tension, but her hand reached up and curled around Sadie's carefully. Sadie smiled at her while I handled her mother.
"I understand your concerns," I said carefully. "And I want you to know that this isn't charity. Sadie is doing me a favor as much as I'm helping her."
Janet's expression suggested she didn't believe a word of it. But the clerk called our names, and we filed into a small room with fluorescent lighting and beige walls. The officiant was a tired-looking woman in her fifties who clearly wanted to get through the ceremony as quickly as possible.
"Do you have rings?" she asked without looking up from her paperwork.
I pulled two simple gold bands from my jacket pocket. I'd bought them yesterday during my lunch break, choosing the plainest ones I could find. Nothing flashy or romantic. These were tools, props in the performance we were about to give. Just thinking that made my chest twist with emotion I couldn’t place.
The ceremony was sterile and businesslike. We stood facing each other while the officiant read from a script she'd clearly memorized. Eloise stood beside us, holding Janet's hand and beaming with excitement that seemed to fill the entire room.
"Do you, Harrison Vale, take Sadie Quinn to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." The words came out steady, but my heart was pounding.
"Do you, Sadie Quinn, take Harrison Vale to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Sadie's eyes met mine. For a moment, I saw something flicker across her face—doubt, fear, maybe regret. Then she straightened her shoulders.
"I do."
"You may kiss the bride."
I stepped closer, my hands finding her waist. She tilted her face up to mine, and for a second we were both perfectly still. Then my lips found hers, and the sterile courthouse room disappeared.
The kiss was supposed to be performative, a brief seal on our legal transaction. Instead, it burned through me with an intensity that left me breathless. Sadie's lips were soft and warm, and when she kissed me back, I forgot about contracts and arrangements and five-year time limits.
We broke apart, and Sadie's cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with what looked like surprise.
"Congratulations," the officiant said dryly, already reaching for the next couple's paperwork.
We signed the marriage certificate with hands that weren't entirely steady. Eloise bounced on her toes beside us, chattering about the wedding and asking if we could have cake when we got home.
"Actually," I said, sliding the signed document into my jacket pocket, "I thought we could all have dinner together. I had something catered to the house."
Janet's expression darkened. "More charity."
