Page 59 of Last Wish Wedding

“My plans haven’t changed, if that’s what you’re asking. For me, putting Jason Prescott into a world of hurt? That’s something I am going to enjoy immensely.”

He took her elbow and guided her into the office.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, making everything feel even more surreal. The clerk looked up, recognition crossing her face. Everyone knew everyone on the island. By sunset, the whole town would know about their marriage, if not by noon. It would help sell their story, Kelsey realized. Small towns loved romance.

“Ms. York?” The clerk’s voice pulled her back. “I need your signature here.”

As she signed, she caught Mac watching her with an unreadable expression. He’d been so quick to agree to this plan, to offer himself as a solution. But what was he really thinking? His plans to leave, his trip, weren’t changing. He’d made that clear.

An image of David’s face entered her mind, their wedding, how happy they’d been. She wondered what he would think of her now, marrying a man she didn’t love and didn’t really know only to have the ammunition she needed to fight his family? It was for Noah, all for Noah, truly she believed David would understand. But he would also want her to be happy.

The clerk stamped their license with a heavy thunk that made Kelsey jump. “Congratulations,” she said, sliding the paper across the counter.

Mac took the license, and his hand found the small of Kelsey’s back as they walked out. The familiar gesture felt different now, felt weighted with their impending vows.

In the car, Mac cleared his throat. “We can still—”

“Don’t,” Kelsey interrupted softly. “Don’t give me an out. I want Noah home.”

“Yeah.” His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Grandad would never forgive me.”

They drove in silence, the license lying between them like a promise or a threat—Kelsey wasn’t sure which. But as they turned onto the coastal road leading to Truman’s, she felt a strange sense of peace settle over her. Whatever came next, at least she wasn’t facing it alone.

Chapter 19

Kelsey gripped Mac’s hand as they approached Truman’s cottage for the second time that day. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the weathered shingles, the ocean beyond sparkling as if nothing momentous were about to happen. As if her entire life weren’t about to change with a few simple words and a signature.

“You’re sure about this?” Mac asked quietly, pausing at the bottom of the porch steps.

She looked up at him. His casual elegance somehow made him even more handsome.

“I’m sure about getting Noah back,” she answered honestly. “The rest… we’ll figure out as we go.”

He nodded, and his thumb brushed across her knuckles. “One step at a time.”

Inside, the cottage had transformed. The morning’s atmosphere of crisis and strategy had given way to something unexpectedly festive. Flowers adorned the mantle and side tables—arrangements of white roses and blue hydrangeas that Amy must have sourced from the island’s only florist. Soft music played from the speaker system, and sunlight streamed through the windows that Mrs. Henley had clearly just cleaned.

“There they are!” Amy called, emerging from the kitchen with a champagne flute in hand. She’d changed into a pale blue dress that complemented her dark hair and had applied makeup—something she rarely bothered with. “The bride and groom!”

The words sent a jolt through Kelsey’s chest. Bride. Groom. This was really happening.

“Where’s Grandad?” Mac asked, scanning the room.

“Mrs. Henley’s helping him get ready,” Amy replied. “He insisted on wearing his good suit. Oh! I almost forgot—” She thrust her glass into Mac’s hand and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a small bouquet of white roses tied with a blue ribbon. “For you, sis.”

Kelsey took the flowers, emotion welling unexpectedly. “Amy, you didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I did,” her sister replied firmly. “If you’re getting married—even for practical reasons—you’re doing it properly. And I’m including this in the photo album I’ll be making for Noah to help him understand.”

The thought of Noah, confused and frightened at the Prescotts’, made Kelsey’s throat tighten. “Thank you,” she managed.

A door opened down the hallway, and Mrs. Henley appeared, guiding Truman. The old man looked remarkably improved from that morning—still frail, still attached to his portable oxygen, but his color was better, his eyes bright with anticipation. He’d dressed in a gray suit that hung loosely on his diminished frame, a blue pocket square adding a touch of color.

“There she is,” Truman said, his voice stronger than it had been all day. “My granddaughter-to-be.”

The words, spoken with such warmth and certainty, made Kelsey’s eyes sting. She crossed to him and bent to kiss his papery cheek. “You look very handsome, Truman.”

“Had to make an effort for my grandson’s wedding day,” he replied with a wink. “Never thought I’d live to see it.”