Page 24 of Merging Wright
Landon Hobbs has circled our lives for as long as I can remember. When Ma worked to sweep up hair in the beauty salon, Landon was next door in the barber shop. Yep, the renowned attorney is also the town barber and head of the city council. How’s that for a small town? Eventually, Ma learned to cut hair and became an esthetician, offering a full skin and hair care package. She rose up from the ashes, one head of hair at a time, eventually taking over for Trixie of Trixie’s Trims.
“I’m here for moral support and to commit perjury by swearing I read a will hours after I originally did so we can get you legally wed and started on your marriage.”
“You mean, the project.” My inheritance project, which includes restoring an entire fucking town. I don’t know the first thing about running a town, or rebuilding one, nor do I want this headache. But it seems my top account executive has done what she always does and charmed this little group into escalating this farce to a new level.
And now I’m getting married.
As apprehensive as I am about marrying Jane, I’m more afraid she won’t walk through the justice of the peace’s door in the next few minutes.
My palms sweat. I spread my fingers then clench them back into fists. I tug at the sleeve of my shirt at the cuff of my suit. I can’t believe I’m getting married again, something I swore I’d never do. One and done for me. The wreck at the end of my first marriage was a lesson learned. Trust is a fallacy. Commitment means nothing. Romance truly is dead.
However, nothing is similar to the first time. Strangely, I do trust Jane. She’s living through this hell with me. And despite the little twist of fate, in which we will no longer pretend to be husband and wife but actually be joined legally as a couple, she’s committed to this project for some reason. As for romance, that’s a non-issue with Jane. There’s nothing romantic about our situation.
The door opens, and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in hours.
Jane stands there in a dress the color of champagne bubbles. The slim cut hugs her body, highlighting her subtle curves and emphasizing her breasts. Her dark hair is up in that messy-knot twist which allows the short hairs near her neck to curl softly by her elegant throat. The slender column is further emphasized by thin straps near her collarbone. My mouth waters to take a sip of her skin right there. Then nip at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and tear the delicate ribbons free.
I’ve always considered Jane a beautiful woman but seeing her in that dress, with her head held high and a soft smile on her lips, steals that first breath. My heart patters faster. My dick rises to the occasion. But it’s the strange relief that settles under my skin that has me puzzled. My reaction is so much more than I expected.
Ma precedes Jane across the room, and then Jane comes forward carrying a small bouquet of white roses similar to the ones on the nightstand in our bedroom at the house.
Shit. I should have bought her flowers. With limited time and the sudden rush to wed, I’m lucky I found wedding bands.
Jane stops before me, and my mouth is suddenly dry. She’s stunning and when she lifts her lids, shyly peering at me, my heart skips a beat.
What is happening to me?
The justice of the peace speaks. “Machlan, please take Jane’s hands.”
Lifting my hands, palms upright, I’m practically holding my breath as Jane hands her flowers to Ma before reaching for my hands with shaky fingers. Once we touch, the strange relief of seeing her settles into a blanket of comfort. On reflex, I gently squeeze her fingers.
The vows begin. My vision blurs.
Jane’s sapphire eyes are turned toward the man reading how we will be joined to love, honor, and cherish one another. Her hands feel small clutched in mine, and without thought, I rub my thumb over her knuckles, unable to stop touching her, confirming her presence. She’s really doing this for me. We’re really standing here doing this together.
My throat tightens, knowing I shouldn’t do this with her, but also knowing there’s no one else I want to help me tackle this mess.
Eventually, Jane looks at me, and the officiant asks me if I take Jane to be my wife.
“I do.” Eyes still, I hold her gaze. Can she read how grateful I am? Can she see how confused I am as well? When she agrees to be mine, my chest churns with something I haven’t felt in a long time. The soft curl of her mouth after her commitment to me turns that stirring inside me into a whirlwind of desire.
When the officiant asks for the rings, Jane’s eyes widen as I present her with a silver band. Her voice trembles and her fingers shake when she places a matching ring on my finger, symbolizing our attachment, our commitment, and the idea of never-ending love. Her focus remains on the band of silver gracing her ring finger while the justice of the peace finishes the ceremony.
“By the power vested in me—”
“Not so fast,” Ma interjects, causing Jane to flinch and tighten her hold on my hands like she might slip away otherwise. Or maybe I’m holding hers more firmly, afraid to let her go, afraid she’ll walk away.
Ma approaches and holds out a long strip of white linen. “In the Scottish tradition, you must bind your hands.”
This ritual wasn’t performed in my first wedding, so I don’t understand why Ma is pushing it now. But when I glance up at Jane, noticing the grin on her face as Ma joins our right hands together and begins to wrap them, I keep quiet.
“Let this cord unite you as one, binding you today and through your tomorrows. May you work beside one another, guide one another, support and love each other. Remember the hand that holds yours today. The heartbeats that belong to only you for always.”
Ma places one hand over and one hand under the joining of Jane’s and mine. While I’m not certain her words are legal or binding in any manner, something overcomes me as Ma slips her hands away and Jane and I remain tethered together.
“Now, can I pronounce them husband and wife?” the officiant teases.
Ma laughs while dismissingly waving at him. “Pronounce away, Harold.”
