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I’dnevergivenmuchthought to planning my second wedding.

Mostly because I hadn’t expected to get married again.

Ever.

And I never expected to be sitting beside Mia on a Saturday morning planning outourwedding.

“Okay, so we don’t need anything more than the standard witness, right?”

I glanced at Mia, at the smooth column of her neck exposed by her high ponytail, with a frown. We sat in my main living room, a chaotic number of documents piled high in front of us. In other words: too much work for a Saturday morning.

“Are you sure you don’t want a massive, extravagant event with forty doves and a court of twenty-five bridesmaids?”

Mia leveled me with a dead stare, her lips pursed in disbelief. “Were you this extra with your first wife?” she deadpanned.

“She was all for the billionaire’s wedding,” I said with a shrug. I felt Mia’s eyes on me but didn’t turn back to face her. “She wanted the one-of-a-kind dress, the imported flowers, the wedding singers that canactuallysing.”

“I don’t think all of that is necessary for this,” she breathed shakily, her eyes wide in shock. “This is more of a formality than anything else.”

I nodded, lips pressed into a pensive line. “Are you really okay with all of this?” I asked her quietly.

She turned her head back to me, the documents in front of her fluttering back onto the coffee table. “Okay with what?” she asked. “The wedding?”

I nodded.

“That should be my question, shouldn’t it?” She chuckled a little breathlessly. “I mean, the only reason you’re marrying me is to help me stay here, so you’re the one doing me a favor. Areyouokay with it?”

I let out a short laugh, leaning back into my sofa with a grin. “I won’t say I’m not feeling a little on edge because I’d be lying,” I admitted. When I caught the concern in her eyes I dropped my hand onto her knee. “Not like that. I just mean that marriage is a bit of a touchy subject for me and so is breaking the law.”

“You’re not making me feel any less nervous about this whole thing,” Mia pointed out, and I chuckled.

“Look.” I sighed. “As long as you’re okay with this, and I’m okay with this, we’ll be fine. We can stick it out for a year or so and then get a nice, clean divorce. Cool?”

“Cool,” she agreed. “Oh, have you signed the prenups yet?”

“Oh, shit, no I haven’t.”

“Reid, that’s important,” she complained. “Warren sent them over last night already. Wait-”

She shuffled through the documents in front of her and I watched her in silence. She wore a loose-fitting sundress that wasn’t exactly loose on her, and the fabric was soft and flowy enough that it moved with her.

“Here,” she said, handing me the documents and a pen. “I’ve already signed them.”

“Is this even necessary,” I mumbled under my breath, immediately catching the glare that Mia sent my way.

“It’s important that we make sure everything is done right,” she insisted. “I don’t want any of your money, and the last thing I want is Immigrations on my back thinking I have plans to murder you for your life insurance. Oh, don’t put me in your will.”

“Wow, at this rate,” I teased, my heart squeezing just a little, “Immigrations is going to wonder why we’re getting married at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually we’d get combined insurance or move both policies onto one,” I explained, trying to recall the absolute nightmare of it all with Daniella. “Medical insurance, car and house insurance, all that stuff.”

“If we’re only going to be married for a year, we don’t need to add twice the paperwork.”

“True,” I mused. “I just want to be thorough.”

“Then sign the prenup, Reid.” She sighed, a hint of her exasperation slipping through.