Page 23 of Won't Back Down
“Okay. I’ll do the thing. Even peopling isn’t worse than dealing with my parents.”
The rest of the trip was taken up by talking about more minutiae of the plan. I wasn’t sure if we ought to be worried by exactly how much thought and preparation these two women had managed to put into this in less than twenty-four hours. Either way, I was grateful they were on our side.
Once we reached the marina at Manteo, a car was waiting to take the four of us to the Register of Deeds. We didn’t look much like a wedding party. We’d dressed for a morning on the water, though we’d each brought garment bags with more dressy attire for the actual ceremony. There’d be a bathroom or something where we’d change at the courthouse. But even in beach clothes, Willa was gorgeous. And for a little while, she’d be mine. At least on paper. That made me an incredibly lucky bastard, because I definitely didn’t deserve her.
As it was late morning in the middle of the week, there was no line. It took less than fifteen minutes to present our documentation and get the paperwork to sign. Easy sailing. Not until her pen hovered over the dotted line did Willa hesitate. Maybe all the discussion of the details was finally making this real for her. Or maybe standing here in this official setting, signing very real legal documents to perpetrate a lie in the name of protection, was activating her conscience.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and, under the guise of pressing a kiss to her temple, murmured, “It’s all gonna be okay.”
She relaxed into me with a sigh, then signed her name with a flourish.
The clerk did whatever she had to do, and we paid the fee. Then the marriage license was in my hand.
We’d officially declared our intent to marry. Me, the wrong-side-of-the-island son of the town drunk and the legitimate island princess who’d soon be taking the helm of her family’s little empire.
This was really happening.
Mimi clapped in delight. “Okay, you two, let’s go get married.”
CHAPTER 11
WILLA
Ifully expected to go from the registrar’s office to whatever civic building housed the justice of the peace, but the car that was waiting for us—yet another thing that Florence and Delilah had orchestrated—took us out of the town proper.
“Where are we going?”
Squished in the backseat between Delilah and the door, I felt her give an excited bounce. “You’ll see.”
Probably it would have been beneficial to ask more questions about everything these two had managed to set into motion since yesterday, but at this point, I was just along for the ride. If I stopped and thought too hard about it, I was going to barrel straight into overwhelm, and in truth, we didn’t have time for that. I trusted these women to have taken care of the details. God, it was such a blessing to know that I could.
Fifteen minutes later, we were weaving through a residential area full of old-growth trees that dappled the street with shade. The car pulled to a stop in front of a two-story shingled house that reminded me so much of Sutter House that I wondered if it dated to the same period. A porch sporting an assortment of comfortable wicker chairs and benches wrapped all the way around the house. There were magnificent views on all sides, both of the sound and the lush green gardens that looked like a cover spread for Southern Living.
As we slid out of the car, a woman in a broad-brimmed straw hat and Bermuda shorts came walking around the side. She lifted her hand in a wave. “Flo! Delilah! Is this our happy couple?”
“Sure is,” Delilah crowed. “Aren’t they cute?”
Um.
Sawyer’s hand found mine, and gratitude swamped me that he always just seemed to know what I needed.
Florence took on a serious air. “May I present to you the bride, Willa Sutter, and the groom, Sawyer Malone? Kids, meet the Honorable Judge Agatha D’Angelo.”
In her lime green T-shirt, tropical patterned shorts, and Birkenstocks, this woman didn’t look anything like I imagined a judge. Her explosion of gray hair was gathered back into a ponytail that was thicker than mine, and her blue eyes were warm as they fixed on us. “Welcome, both of you. I’m so delighted to have you. Willa, I knew your grandparents. Lovely people. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Stunned, I couldn’t do much more than take the hand she offered. “I… thank you. For the condolences and for doing this.”
Judge D’Angelo rubbed her hands together with unmistakable glee. “I never get to do weddings. It’ll be a delightful change of pace from being the local hard-ass. Come on inside and change.”
Dimly, I wondered if she’d be officiating in her gardening gear. Not that it mattered to me either way. I hadn’t spent much time imagining my wedding day. After the example my parents had set, I never really expected to marry. Certainly, I never wanted the big society wedding my mom would’ve insisted upon, so this mid-week affair at a private home, where no one but a couple of witnesses were invited, was fine. And it wasn’t like this was a real marriage anyway, where we were going to be together for the next fifty years and look back at pictures with nostalgia.
Sawyer and I were shown to separate rooms. It didn’t take me long to don the breezy white V-neck midi dress. In no universe did it qualify as a wedding dress, but there hadn’t been time for me to find a real one. And even if it had been a real wedding, why would I waste that kind of money on something that I’d never wear again? For that amount, I’d rather feed the entire Sutter’s Ferry Animal Shelter for a month or more. The dress hit the kind of dressy casual note I hoped we’d both manage for today’s ceremony. Plus, it was the only white one I owned.
My hair was going to take longer to sort out. The wind on the two-hour boat ride up to Roanoke Island had whipped it into a snarl. I was working a wide-toothed comb through the tangles when a knock came on the door.
“Come in.”
Florence slipped inside. “I thought you might want a little help with your hair.”