I blink hard, shaking the thought away.
None of this is real.
She’s not mine.
She’s the girl I’m marrying to protect, not to claim.
The clerk says our names, and that’s when it hits me.
Wait.I’m getting married.
Like, actual vows and rings and legally binding shit.
Oh, fuck. What are my vows going to be?
Ipromise not to love and not to hold you, because we’re only doing this, so your deadbeat dad doesn’t show up with the jilted groom in tow?
Yeah, that’ll go overrealwell, Baker. Real smooth.
The officiant starts speaking—words about vows and promises and love—and I swear I can feel my pulse echoing in my throat. I nod when I’m supposed to, answer when I have to, but I barely hear a damn thing. All I can see is the way Seraphina’s lip’s part slightly as she watches me, the way her eyes flicker between mine like she’s searching for something.
When the officiant asks me to take her hand, I do—both of mine wrapping around hers. They’re so small, fragile almost, but when she looks up at me, there’s a strength there that steals my breath.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Ohshit.
I’m gonna hurl.
Fuck.
Fuckingfuck.
Fuck me.
“Do you, Trey Baker, take Seraphina Carmichael…”
Her name sounds strange next to mine. Strange and…beautiful.
Like it was always meant to be there.
God, no.
No.
Hell no.
No. No.NO.
“I do.”
Wait—did I just—?
What’s that ringing in my ear?
Why has my heart stopped beating?
