"But if he did, marriage won't save him. Do you understand?"
"I understand." Her gaze found mine and her voice hardened. "But I'm not wrong."
"We'll see. Tomorrow, 7 p.m. Don't be late."
The call ended.
Julia let out a shaky breath. "Well. That went better than expected."
"He didn't immediately threaten to kill me. That's progress."
"Baby steps." She stood, pulling me up with her. "Come on. We have a wedding to get ready for. The courthouse varietyfirst, then the convince-my-brother-not-to-murder-you variety tomorrow."
"One disaster at a time."
"That's the spirit."
As we headed for the door, I pulled her back, kissed her properly. When we broke apart, she was smiling.
"What was that for?" she asked.
"Practice. For when the officiant says 'you may kiss the bride.'"
"You're such a romantic."
"You're marrying me in four hours. Clearly you like it."
She laughed—real, genuine, the kind of laugh that made me believe we might actually survive this.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I really do."
∞∞∞
The courthouse smelled like floor polish and stale coffee. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a flat, institutional glow. Not exactly the romantic setting I'd imagined for my wedding.
But Julia's hand was warm in mine, and that was all that mattered.
"This way," Serenity said, leading us down a hallway lined with wooden benches. A few other couples waited—some nervous, some excited, one couple arguing quietly in Spanish.
Stone walked slightly behind us, his eyes constantly scanning. Even here, even now, he was on guard.
"Room 3B," Serenity confirmed, checking her phone. "Judge Martinez is ready for us. Isobel pulled strings—we're lucky to get same-day."
"Lucky," I muttered. "That's one word for it."
Julia squeezed my hand. "Having second thoughts?"
"About marrying you? Never." I stopped, turned to face her. "About the venue? Maybe."
She glanced around at the beige walls, the scuffed linoleum, the flickering exit sign. "It's not exactly The Plaza."
"No."
"But it counts."
"It counts," I agreed.
Her eyes were bright, maybe with unshed tears. "I'm sorry it has to be like this. Rushed. No white dress, no flowers, no—"
