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I meet her eyes. “What?”

Elodie’s cheery disposition from a few moments ago turns flat and questioning, one brow arched. “Easton, are you crazy?”

“You just said I was smart.”

“I was clearly lying!” she whisper-shouts. “I mean, yes, you’re helping Lennon, but you and I both know there’s an ulterior motive for you.”

“Yeah, getting my boss to let me work closer to home,” I counter.

Her head falls to the side. “You really expect me to believe that’s the only reason you came up with this idea?”

This isn’t the way I imagined marrying Lennon, but desperate times call for desperate measures. We agreed to get married before our families—more importantly, our parents—could talk us out of it and then deal with telling them separately. Between my work schedule and her classes, it just felt easier to handle it on our own and then present a united front when we had more time to discuss the details.

Nothing like jumping into a decision with both feet without thinking about what’s lurking under the surface of the water, am I right?

“Look, all I care about right now is that Lennon and her baby are taken care of. That’s my priority.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You really think you’re not going to get hurt in all of this?”

Of course I thought of that. But my fear is not as strong as my potential regret in this situation. “That’s not what this is about. This is just two friends helping each other out.”

“Friends that fight every time they see each other, you mean?” she counters with an arch of her brow.

“We don’t fight all the time…”

My eyes find Lennon as she makes her way back inside the courtroom, and through no control of my own, my heart beats harder.

Does a tiny part of me wonder if Lennon could feel the same way about me through all of this? Maybe.

But is that the only reason I came up with this plan?

Absolutely not.

This girl was mine to protect from the moment she gave me her friendship when we were kids. The least I can do is make sure to keep up my end of that unspoken agreement, mutual animosity be damned.

“Next time, say that like you mean it,” Elodie says just loud enough for me and my brother to hear before Lennon gets too close.

“Mr. Buckley?” Judge Hamilton calls out from the front of the courtroom. All four of us spin to face him.

“Yes sir?”

“Are we ready?”

I twist back to Lennon and nod, waiting for her to do the same. Her voice is shaky, but her nod is clear. “Yeah.”

“Yes, we are.” Grabbing Lennon’s hand, I lead her to the front of the room, right next to the juror’s box.

The nerves on Lennon’s face spark my own, so I lean down and bring my lips to her ear. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Those doe eyes of hers lift and find mine. “I know. I just hope we don’t regret this.”

Yeah, you and me both, sweetheart.

The judge starts off with the usual matrimonial spiel as Lennon and I turn to face each other, her hands still clasped in mine.