Page 65 of The Heir

His shoulder hefted in a quiet shrug against mine and I gripped his hand like I thought the floor might give out beneath me.

“Of course, they do. It’s right here, dated for–” Judge Kemper squinted at the cardboard-like paper and announced, “Friday.”

“That’s right. They got it just before his arrest,” Grandfather lied on the spot.

My head swiveled and my eyes bugged. He never fibbed!

Blaze squeezed my hand. I subtly grunted, so he loosened his grip and brought my hand up to kiss my knuckles.

“I said you were mine, and I meant it,” he whispered, placing his other hand on the small of my back.

I didn’t think I’d swayed, but I did feel sturdier with his support. Judge Kemper was talking, and I heard the buzz of his voice and saw his lips moving, but I had no idea what lecture he was giving.

“I swear, I have no wife, and am willingly entering this marriage with Marchella,” Blaze’s bass-filled tone boomed beside me, startling me back to focus.

“Very good,” Harold answered, before turning his attention to me, “Marchella Miller, do you also swear before this court that you are currently without a spouse and able to enter into a legal marital agreement in good faith, with this man, Blaze Aviston?”

I blinked, and my head slowly bobbed, “Y-yes.”

Judge Kemper leaned forward, and his stern features slowly blended into a smile, “Speak up, Miss Miller, the court must document the matter.”

“Yes, I am able to marry. And– yes, I’m his.”

Blaze made a low, satisfied growly sound in his throat and his thumb slid over the side of my hand.

“Excellent.” Judge Kemper announced, before squinting at the cardboard and then looking at a separate piece of paper, “Just checking all the boxes here— Oh, your name. Will you be requesting a change of name?”

“A what?” I squinted.

“Will you be taking Mr. Aviston’s name or keeping your own?”

I paused, unsure of what Blaze wanted me to do or if I even cared about such things. The way his hand molded to my back, slid to my side, and jerked me toward him said it all, even if his lips never moved.

Mine.

“Aviston, please,” I chirped.

“That should do the trick. You’re man and wife.” Judge Kemper scribbled on the form, and I turned toward Blaze.

I was scared to seek his gaze. Terrified, it was all some joke, or worse, something he’d agreed to just to get out of jail.

His hand slid along my jaw, and he angled my face up, forcing me to confront him. The smile that lingered in his hazel eyes took my breath away.

“This is fuckin’ crazy,” he whispered, so close his breath washed over me.

“It is–” I managed.

“Just tell me it’s real–” he pleaded.

I greedily sucked the air from between us, remembering the way he’d demanded I read his lips rather than buy his words alone. I didn’t care if it was a courtroom. I didn’t care if he was in an orange county jumpsuit, or even if my grandparents were tenfeet away, I let my lips convince him of everything my heart wanted to say.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Blaze

Don and his wife took us to a steakhouse on the county line. It was the best meal of my life, at least that’s how it tasted after eating frozen dinners at the jail all weekend. That's what they fed me twice a day. Breakfast was unflavored oatmeal and a banana. I’d probably lost a few pounds just lying in there.

I ate every bite and scraped the crumbs.