Page 93 of Hacking the Holidays
She jerked the wheel, over-correcting as the tires caught the edge of the shoulder. For one heart-stopping second, I felt the car slide on the snow-dusted pavement. Then she guided us back into the lane, both hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, her gaze more focused than ever.
“Sam! Are you crazy?” She exhaled shakily, her eyes locked straight ahead now. “You can’t just go throwing the topic of marriage into the conversation out of nowhere, like we were deciding what we wanted to do this weekend, or what we might have for dinner tonight! Marriage is not something to joke about.”
“I’m being completely serious,” I said. “And you still haven’t answered my question.” I kept my voice calm, even though my pulse was still racing from the near-crash. “Is spousal privilege still a thing? You wouldn’t have to testify against me if we were married, right?”
Zara swallowed hard. “Yes. It’s still a thing. But?—”
“Marriage sounds like the perfect solution then.” My heart hammered, but I forced myself to sound steady.Reasonable. Like I wasn’t suggesting something completely preposterous.
“Are you crazy?” she asked, right on cue, before taking the next exit and pulling the car over. “Run that by me again, just to make sure I’m not hearing things.”
“Married. Husband and wife. You and me.” I grinned.
“Sam, that’s—” She shook her head, but I couldn’t tell if she was dismissing the idea or trying to process it. “You can’t just propose marriage as a legal strategy.”
“Why not? People get married for worse reasons.”
“Worse than avoiding federal prosecution?”
“Tax benefits?” I offered. “And I’m pretty sure this is more romantic than a green-card marriage.”
Despite everything, her lips twitched. “This is insane.”
I reached over and took her hand. “Look, I’m not saying we fly to Vegas tonight and get married in an Elvis chapel. At the courthouse during my lunch break tomorrow would be perfectly fine.”
Zara laughed, then she was quiet for a long moment.
“You’re serious,” she said finally.
“Completely.”
“You want to marry me to invoke spousal privilege. You know that’s illegal, right?”
“I want to marry you because I’m falling in love with you,” I said, and the words came out easier than I expected. “The spousal privilege is just a great bonus feature.”
Zara let out a breath that might have been a laugh or might have been something else entirely. “This is the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I said. “Is that a no?”
She smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
ZARA
Sam’s lips met mine, and the rest of the world disappeared.
This wasn’t like that desperate kiss we’d shared in front of München Haus, or even the defiant one on the sidewalk while Agent Babbs watched. This kiss was a different animal entirely—something that felt like coming home and jumping off a cliff at the same time.
My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. Every nerve ending seemed to light up at once. The warmth of his body against mine, the way he kissed me like I was the only thing in the universe that mattered?—
Someone cleared their throat and snapped me back to reality. Heat flooded my face as we pulled apart, and I tried to regain my composure.
“Jumping the gun a bit, aren’t we?” Judge Patricia Murphy said with a smirk as she stood in front of the beautiful wedding ceremony arch that was adorned with pine branches and poinsettias.
Chloe had both hands clamped over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The rest of our small gathering—just fifteen people—erupted in a mix of snickers and ear-to-ear grins.
Of course, with all of Sam’s friends in town, we would have loved a large wedding, but with no time to spare, we reserved the only ceremony site available on such short notice and were limited to just fifteen guests. We did agree to celebrate with everyone in the very near future.
