The clerk clears her throat and begins the formalities.
I listen, but only halfway. My focus keeps drifting back to Kate—the curve of her shoulder, the way she inhales before answering, the calm determination in her eyes.
When it’s time for the rings, I reach into my jacket and take them out. Simple gold bands.
Kate lifts her hand, and for a moment I see the smallest tremor in her fingers. I slide the ring onto her finger slowly, my thumb brushing her skin in a way that’s almost reverent.
She swallows, her throat working as she looks up at me.
Then it’s her turn. She takes my hand with quiet certainty and slips the ring into place. It’s snug, warm from her touch.
The clerk’s voice cuts in again. “By the authority vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you legally married.”
For a heartbeat, the world feels suspended—like everything else has gone quiet to make room for this one moment. Then I lift my hand to her cheek, giving her time to pull away if she wants to, but she doesn’t.
Our foreheads touch first, a shared breath passing between us. When I kiss her, it’s gentle and grounding, meant to reassure rather than claim. When we part, her eyes are bright, her expression soft and slightly stunned.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I smile, squeezing her hand. “Just okay? Do we need to try that kiss again, Katie?”
Her cheeks turn a warm pink and she swats my arm. Finally, I see her smile return. “Later.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” I wink at her before turning toward our friends.
Brynn exhales softly, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sniffle. Knox clears his throat, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. Kinsey lets out a low whistle and mutters something under her breath that makes Kate huff a laugh.
Brynn steps toward us, hugging Kate, then me. “Congrats, Mr. and Mrs. Wells.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Kate
Gordy’s glows the way it always does at night. The parking lot is already half full when I pull in, my hands tightening around the steering wheel as my heart kicks up a notch.
And then I see him.
Cam is leaning against the front of the building, one shoulder braced against the brick, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He looks like he’s been there a while, like he’s been waiting. He looks up, and the moment our eyes meet, something in me shifts.
He pushes off the wall and walks toward me. When he reaches me, his gaze softens, and I realize he’s been watching my face as closely as I’ve been watching his.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.” My voice is quiet.
For a second, we just stand there. The night hums around us—cars passing, laughter drifting from inside—but everything feels oddly still.
He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “I just want to check in,” he says gently. “Once we walk in there, people are going to know things. I want to make sure you’re good with that.”
I glance toward the windows, where I can already see silhouettes moving inside. The familiar buzz of Gordy’s. The place where everyone knows everyone else’s business.
I look back at him.
“I am,” I say, and I mean it. “I know the whole town probably already knows. And I’m okay with it.”
His mouth curves slightly, relief softening his expression. “All right.”
I take a breath, then reach for the front of his jacket, my fingers resting against his chest. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For…being so good about this.”
