Page 94 of Hacking the Holidays
“I don’t know what came over me,” Sam said with a shrug.
“While I appreciate the enthusiasm, Sam, we haven’t actually gotten to the ‘you may kiss the bride’ portion yet.” She gestured to the tablet she was holding that contained the ceremony script. “You jumped four pages ahead.”
Sam straightened his tie. “In my defense …”
Judge Murphy fixed him with a look that said she’d heard every excuse in the book. “Do you think you both can restrain yourselves for the approximately seven-minute ceremony so I can legally marry you?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Sam said, but the corner of his mouth was also twitching.
I nodded. “I will definitely give it my best shot.”
“Excellent. Then let’s try this again, shall we?” Judge Murphy glanced back at the script, clearly fighting a smile. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today …”
I squeezed Sam’s hand, anchoring myself in the present moment—in the warmth of his palm, in Judge Murphy’ssteady voice, and in the reality that we were actually doing this.
What a whirlwind of a day it had been.
We had planned an entire wedding in eight hours.
This morning, I’d woken up unemployed and possibly facing federal prosecution. Now, I stood there in a white wedding dress I’d bought three hours earlier, across from Sam in a sharp charcoal suit he’d picked up after breakfast, and about to exchange rings that hadn’t been purchased until after lunch.
The judge, the restaurant, the photographer, the florist—everyone had rearranged their day to help Sam, without even giving it a second thought.
Apparently, when you’ve spent years fixing wood-burning stoves, helping struggling families, being Leavenworth’s beloved Santa, and genuinely caring about the people around you, the entire town showed up when you needed them most.
For whatever reason, despite the chaos and madness of marrying someone I’d just met this month, I felt completely, utterly calm. Like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
“Sam and Zara have prepared their own vows,” Judge Murphy said, glancing at Sam with a smile.
He squeezed my hands, his eyes locking on mine. “Zara, you’re the most sophisticated code I’ve ever encountered—elegant, complex, and with more layers than my favorite Mexican dip. I promise to serve as your physical stabilization protocol whenever gravitational forces conspire againstyou—which, statistically, happens with alarming frequency. And I promise to debug whatever problems we face—together. Because you’re not just the best encryption I’ve ever cracked, you’re my permanent partner in every protocol.”
My throat tightened from just listening to Sam’s words. He was speaking my language, like no other person could.
“Well, that was certainly the most technically sophisticated declaration of love I’ve witnessed in my career.” Judge Murphy’s eyes sparkled with genuine delight. “Zara? I have a feeling your vows will be equally memorable.”
I took a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. “Sam, you bypassed every firewall I built and cracked through my defenses like they were protected by a two-digit PIN. I promise to trust your syntax even when it sounds like you’re speaking in Klingon, to let you be my recovery system whenever I crash—literally or metaphorically, though let’s be honest, mostly literally. And I promise to grant you permanent access privileges to my heart and my Netflix account. Because you’re the gateway to the life I’m finally authorized to live and the one system I will always trust completely.”
The rest of the ceremony swept past us in the blink of an eye—exchanging rings with trembling fingers, and repeating the traditional words that bound us together legally and forever. When Judge Murphy finally reached the moment we’d been waiting for, her voice carried both authority and genuine happiness.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Washington,I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She paused, her eyes twinkling. “Now, Mr. Monroe—and only now—you may kiss your bride.”
Sam pulled me close, and this kiss was different from the first. Still warm, still perfect, but sweeter. Less desperate. More certain. Like a promise we were both choosing to keep.
Just like that, we had become Sam and Zara Monroe.
The back of the restaurant was warm and intimate for our dinner, firelight casting dancing shadows across our tables, and Christmas decorations everywhere. Sam had ordered champagne for everyone, and now we sat next to each other, officially married.
“Are we crazy?” I asked, playfully bumping shoulders with him, and watching the bubbles rise in my glass.
Sam’s eyes lit up with that particular spark that meant his brain had shifted into problem-solving mode. “I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance, but we could run diagnostics on our sanity level. We could start with an analysis of our compatibility.”
“You want to see if we’re compatibleafterwe already got married?” I laughed, but found myself leaning closer, intrigued. “All right, Mr. Probability. What are the pros and cons? We do have a lot in common, there’s no doubt about that. Similar values, complementary skill sets, shared enemies …”
“Shared enemies is definitely a pro.” Sam’s grin widened. “We’ve got each other’s backs. What happens toyou, happens to me. That’s kind of romantic, in a Bonnie and Clyde way.”
“We’re not robbing banks, Sam.”
He shrugged. “Actually, if you think about it …”
