“I’ll wear it forever.”
I smile, brushing my fingers along her cheek. “I might get some cherries tattooed,” I tell her.
And I’m not joking.
“Where?” she asks, biting her lip as her eyes travel south.
I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear. “If you want me to get a dick tattoo in your honor, I’ll do it, baby.”
She giggles, her fingers running along the back of my neck. “With my name on?”
“Whatever my wife wants, she gets. That’s the rule,” I tell her as I pull back.
Her face is now blushing the same color as the cherries on her necklace, and I chuckle.
Today, we still said the vows to each other before we signed the paperwork. Because this isn’t a fake marriage. It’s not just about signatures or legal armor or the strategic reasons that brought us here. Lola is my wife in every meaning of the word.
I’ll tattoo that on my dick. Lola Sterling.
And I am something I never thought I’d be.
A husband.
We bought rings on the way here. Gold bands from a jeweler three doors down from the boutique. And I’ll wear mine every damn day for her. I want people to see it. I want them to know.
She smiles against my lips. Her hands on my cheeks. Her eyes full of something I don’t have a word for yet.
“I’m Mrs. Sterling,” she gushes.
“Yes, you are,” I growl.
The clerk behind the table clears her throat, and I straighten up, tucking Lola into my side.
“Your paperwork, Mr. Sterling,” she says, sliding the folder across. “And we will finalize the other as soon as we can.”
I take it and tuck it inside my suit jacket. I’m itching to get out of this thing. But it made my wife smile when I walked out of that fitting room. So I’d wear it every day if she asked.
We head out of the courthouse hand in hand. But before we reach the truck, I scoop her into my arms. She yelps, then laughs, her arms locking around my neck.
I carry her to the passenger door, open it with one hand, and set her down on the seat. Before I can pull away, she grabs my tie. Holds me right there in front of her. “Are we telling people we’re married? Or keeping it on the down low?”
I raise my eyebrows. “In what world do you think I want to hide this from anyone?”
She blushes. “What about Wyatt? Are we telling him today, right?”
I cup her cheek, and she leans into it.
“I think he’s going to be one happy kid when we tell him later. And we can explain how we’ll do a proper wedding with him involved soon.”
Her face lights up. “I like that idea. I’d like to spend more time with him and really get to know him.”
That melts my dark heart in a way I didn’t know was still possible. “You will. I can already tell you with confidence, he’s a big fan of yours, Lola. I think he needed you to come into his life.”
She sniffles. I rest my forehead against hers, trying to contain my own emotions, because they’re threatening to crack through every wall I’ve built.
This past week should have broken Wyatt. The arrest. Losing his mom. But I firmly believe that Lola entering his life has helped him more than any of us realized. She gives him something the rest of us can’t. She gives him permission to laugh. To be a kid. To have fun when the world around him is falling apart.
She nods. I kiss her, climb behind the wheel, and pull out of the courthouse parking lot.