Page 27 of The Contract Marriage

–Me: That’s fine. Jeremiah’s going to want to be there. I promised her on Saturday that I’d send her an invite to my wedding. Will that be a problem? If so, I can just pretend it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

–Olivia: You think she’ll buy that when Prescott’s going to be a guest at the wedding?

–Me: Probably not. She’s too smart.

Besides, there’s no way she won’t piece things together with her working in the same firm as Prescott.

–Olivia: We can invite her. I don’t want you in her debt for anything.

–Me: Thanks.

–Olivia: She might not even come. It’s less than twenty-four hours’ notice.

–Me: True. Aren’t you lucky I’m the boss? I can take time any day for you.

–Olivia: Thank you, but sometimes you’re too accommodating.

–Me: You’re going to be my wife in less than twenty-four hours. You should expect nothing less.

–Olivia: You’re going to spoil me, Liam.

–Me: Can’t think of anything better to do with my life.

I take the entire day off on Friday. So many last-minute things to check before her arrival.

Frederich puts up with me all morning, then finally gives me a withering look. “I do happen to know what I’m doing. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to welcome an important guest—or, in this case, a spouse—on short notice.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know her like I do.”

“You make it sound like we’re about to welcome the Pope.”

I just shake my head. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet her. She’s amazing. Being with her is like…like basking under a sun-drenched sky.”

Frederich looks mildly nauseated. “I hope you’ll have the good sense to be drunk if you say things like that in public.”

I laugh, then check my reflection again. My hair is perfectly styled, and my face actually seems to glow. The bespoke tux is spotlessly elegant. So what if it’s a courthouse wedding? I want to look my best, show her I’m taking our marriage seriously. The single white ranunculus boutonnière pinned to my lapel looks fantastic, and the white dahlias from the cutting garden tied in a trailing white satin ribbon are perfect. Doesn’t matter what she wears to the ceremony—no matter what she’s in, she’ll look gorgeous holding the bouquet.

“Your brothers will murder you for not inviting them,” Frederich observes.

“You mean you want to murder me for not inviting you.”

“Perish the thought.”

I shake my head with a scoff, then hug him tightly just because.

He stiffens in my arms, then slowly relaxes.

I give him a couple of manly slaps on the back. “You’re the man, Frederich.”

“Yes, Liam, I know.” He pulls away. “I’ll hold down the fort for you and deal with your brothers, should they find out. Or your grandmother.”

I grin. “Knew I could count on you.”

“Always.”

The drive to the courthouse takes about thirty minutes, but I give myself an extra fifteen minutes just in case. I hum along with “Cheek to Cheek” from the sound system. I danced to it with Max at Rhys’s wedding. It’s a sweet tune, but not right for Olivia. I want a special song for our first time as husband and wife, even if it is a courthouse wedding with only our lawyers witnessing the union.

I arrive ten minutes early. Olivia shows up shortly thereafter and my heart jumps into my throat. Good God. I thought I took pains, but look at her.