Guess he remembers my rather heated words from before that kissing me without my consent would be rape. I don’t want to embarrass him by refusing to seal the ceremony with something as traditional as a kiss. But I don’t want to set the wrong precedent, or an expectation that I have feelings for him.
Putting my hands on his shoulders, I stretch up on my toes and place my lips on the corner of his. “Husband.”
Something like disappointment and regret flashes in his eyes. But then he smiles. “Wife.”
Unlike my whisper, his word is firm and possessive.
I flush. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I promise myself that I’ll be the best wife I can, as long as the marriage lasts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fiona
As we walk out of the judge’s chamber, Bryce’s phone pings. He checks the screen with a small frown, then shakes his head. “I have to go.”
“I thought you took the entire morning off.” I was hoping to have lunch together and maybe figure out some of the details for going forward.
“I did. But apparently…” He rolls his eyes.
“Okay. You go ahead. I’ll just get an Uber.”
“Don’t be silly. Take the car—I’ll Uber.” After placing the fob in my hand, Bryce walks off.
I stare at his back for a moment, puzzled. He’s giving me his Lamborghini to drive? I’m a good driver, but surely he doesn’t trust me that much…Does he?
I checked my phone’s notifications. Nothing from Sherry. Hollowness pierces my heart. It’s been three years since she quit sending me birthday wishes. Technically, today is Finley’s birthday—don’t know my real one, since my biological parents weren’t thoughtful enough to share that info when they abandoned me—but it became mine when the Obermans adopted me. Zachary spent a lot of time, money and energy to update it on the official government papers to make sure I could be the perfect Finley substitute.
Except it seems like I haven’t measured up in the last few years. Sherry would never ignore the birthday otherwise.
Isn’t this what I wanted?To be Fiona, not Finley? But somehow Sherry’s silence feels like a rejection. Before, I chalked it up to the fact that Zachary’s health wasn’t good, but now there’s no excuse. Sherry doesn’t want me either, even though I’ve done everything she expected of me. Resentment simmers, but confusion and surprise soon follow. I realize I wanted her to continue in my mother’s role as long as possible, so I could lie to myself that I wasn’t truly alone. Now I can’t even pretend. Did I really want Sherry to act maternal even if she only saw me as Finley? Was Ithatdesperate deep inside?
I shake myself mentally. I’ve always been alone, from the very beginning. I was discarded by my birth mother, and my previous adoptive parents didn’t want me either. I shouldn’t have wanted the Obermans to be any different. They made their preference clear all the times they looked the other way when Aaron bullied me for “stealing” his sister’s place. To be fair, back then he was too young to understand that I was there to be Finley’s substitute for his mother. Somebody—an adult, most likely—clarified my role for him.
I put my phone away and start to leave the courthouse.
“Such a gentleman, letting you take the Lambo.”
My steps slow as I glance at a tall man in an expensive-looking suit. His hands in his pockets, he wears a harmless smile. However, there’s a subtle edge that screams danger. His broad, powerful shoulders fill his jacket, and there’s the barest hint of menace in his relaxed posture. His dark hair is slicked back, showing a high forehead. His amber eyes crinkle slightly with a smile, but there’s a cold calculation in his gaze. He might think he’s slick. Most people would be fooled, but not me. I’ve been dealing with snakes all my life—people who tell me how much they like me only to discard me as soon as they don’t need me anymore.
“Do I know you?”
His smile grows more brilliant. “Of course you do. Or you will. I’m your new uncle.”
I tilt my head. “Uncle?”
“Yes. Harvey.” He watches me closely with an expectant smile. If hethought I’d go, “Oh, of course! I’ve heard so much about you from Bryce,” he’s in for a major disappointment.
“And your Cupid,” he continues.
I frown with confusion. “Cupid?”
“I brought you and Bryce together.” He places a hand on my shoulder. From somebody else, the gesture might seem friendly. From him it’s mildly threatening, like a viper slithering along your skin.
“I have no idea what you mean, and I don’t know any uncles,” I say, stepping away from his touch.
He looks at the hand I rejected, then shrugs. “We should have a proper conversation. How about a late brunch?”
“No, thanks. I need to get going.”
