Page 52 of Choosing a Forever
I smile when I realize he’s planning our wedding and not just making small talk. “That sounds good to me.”
“What kind of cake are we having?”
I tap my chin. “I think a combination. You like funfetti, but I like red velvet, so maybe we do a layer of each?”
“I like that idea. Best of both worlds. Just promise you won’t shove the cake in my face?”
“I won’t if you won’t.” I hold out my pinky, and he wraps his around mine before giving me a quick kiss.
“Deal. I can’t wait to marry you, Mack.”
“I can’t get enough of my wife.”
I’m Talmage Monson’s wife.
And apparently… he can’t get enough of me.
Signing the certificate, leaving the municipal building, and getting in the car is a bit of a blur since my mind is still reeling from the fact I’mmarried.
I wasn’t expecting to feel the cocktail of emotions swirling through my stomach. Everything from guilt, sadness, relief, hope, and… love.
I felt like we were lying to the Higgins guy. His speech was sweet and heartfelt, and even though he probably uses it with everyone, it felt genuine—like it was meant just for us.
And it made me feel guilty.
Because this marriage isn’t built on love—at least, not entirely. I’ve loved Talmage for over a decade, but there’s a slim chance he reciprocates those feelings. Whatever this is, it’s built on mutual benefit and America’s shitty healthcare system. It’s built on desperation and Talmage’s kind, selfless nature.
But you’d never know this marriage is a sham based on Tal’s reactions. I saw the way his gaze traveled over my body when I walked in. I saw the tears he was blinkingaway during the ceremony, and the genuine surprise and awe on his face when he realized I got him a ring to match mine.
I don’t know why I did it. A sense of possession, maybe? Just something small to show he’smine.I doubt people will look too closely at our rings, but I still wanted to know formyselfthat our rings match and symbolize our union even if it doesn’t last forever.
Tal convinced me to ride in his car with him to the restaurant. Nathan and Enoch are in one car, and Lizzie and the twins are in mine. We’re going to Brazão, a Brazilian steakhouse where they cut the meat at your table. I argued it was too much, but Tal reminded me this is a celebration, and nothing is too much when it comes to celebrating our marriage.
Hard to argue with him. Especially when he sounds so earnest.
The car is filled with a heavy silence. Tal’s hands grip the steering wheel at ten and two, and I can feel him glancing at me every few seconds, like he’s trying to make sure I’m actually here.
The back of his car is filled with bags and boxes, a reminder that after dinner he’ll be moving in. Tonight, we’ll share a bed. Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast together and possibly lunch and dinner—I don’t know his work schedule. We’ll be sharing alifejust like the officiant said.
I’ve never shared a life with anyone. Sharing apartments with my friends or my workaholic ex-boyfriend didn’t feel as life-altering as sharing a space with the boy I’ve loved since I was fourteen.
We get to the restaurant first and sit in silence for a minute. I watch happy couples celebrating a belated Valentine’s Day hold hands and walk around with big smiles on their faces, hearts practically coming out of their eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Tal breaks the silence, turning to face me.
“Overwhelmed,” I answer honestly.
Tal’s lips kick up on one side. “Same. It was… a lot. Are you… do you have any regrets?”
I roll my head on the headrest to look at him. The sun glints off of the gem in his ring, catching my attention before I look at my husband. He looks dashing in his suit. The tie matches the moss agate in our rings—intentional, probably. His mustache is freshly trimmed, and his face has clearly just been shaved. His skin looks so smooth, my hands itch to feel it. His dirty blonde hair is neatly gelled to one side, but a stray strand has escaped, flopped on his forehead.
My eyes automatically drop to his lips, and—maybe unconsciously—his tongue pokes out and licks a path across the pillowy surface.
“No regrets.” I look in his eyes—safer territory than anywhere lower.
Or not, if the heat I see in his blue depths is real and not my imagination.
“Me neither. In fact I—”
