Devastatingly so.
My body betrays me instantly—heat floods my cheeks, my pulse kicks up, and my core tightens in a way I've never felt before.
I hate it. I hate that my traitorous body is responding to him like this.
He's still a criminal. Still a man I don't love. Still someone my father traded me to like chattel.
"Maeve?" His voice is deep, smooth, with just a hint of roughness underneath.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
His gaze travels over me—not leering, exactly, but thorough.
I wonder whathesees. A too-thin girl with limp hair and dark circles under her eyes wearing jeans that are clean but well-worn and a blouse that—although it’s my best—has seen better days.
Then his mouth quirks up at the corner. "Well. Aren't you a surprise."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The words come out crisp and accusatory.
He chuckles, and the sound does something unfair to my nervous system. "Nothing. Just didn't expect..." He gestures vaguely at me. "You."
I cross my arms. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Didn't say I was disappointed." His grin widens, easy and confident in a way that makes me want to slap him and lean closer simultaneously. "Come on. Let's get this done."
The ceremony is quick. Perfunctory. Performed by a priest who looks uncomfortable, like he knows exactly what kind of union this is.
Lorcan O'Rourke stands beside me at the altar and says his vows as if he’s reciting a grocery list, not pledging to spend the rest of his life with me.
When the priest asks if I take this man, my throat closes up.
It’s only now that I realize maybe we should have had a conversation first, gotten to know each other. I can stop this whole thing right now. Maybe I should. We can talk first. Set some ground rules.
On the other hand, if I don’t go through with it now, I might never have the courage again.
I picture the kids scattered across the foster system, Cara trying to navigate a home where no one understands her silence, Jamie angry and acting out in a group home, Oisin confused, scared, and crying for me.
"I do," I whisper.
Lorcan slides a simple gold ring onto my finger.
"You may kiss the bride."
My heart stops.
Lorcan turns to me, and for the first time since I arrived, something flickers across his face—hesitation? Consideration?
Then he leans in.
His lips brush mine, soft and brief. Chaste, almost.
But even that feather-light touch sends a jolt of electricity through me that I feel all the way to my toes.
He pulls back, eyes searching mine for a beat too long. Did he feel it too?
I look away first.
Because if I don't, I'm going to do something stupid—like forget that this isn't real.
