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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T he coffee shop was nearly empty this late, save for the low hum of the espresso machine being cleaned for the night and the quiet clink of silverware as a barista restocked napkin holders with half-lidded exhaustion.

Paul sat across from Captain Mariah Ellis, one of the few people in the world who could both out-shoot him and out-argue him—on paper and in person. Well, aside from Birdy Chou.

Mariah's dark curls were tucked beneath a knit cap. Her JAG-issued posture was softened slightly by the faded hoodie and scarf she’d thrown on over her uniform. She cradled her mug of coffee like it was ammunition.

“In two of the cases, the court defaulted to the grandparents because the parents were considered unstable,” she was saying, tapping her blunt fingernail against the ceramic.

“But when the guardian was already married and in a secure household, the kid stayed put. Judges like married people. It feels tidy.”

Paul nodded at his friend, but his gaze drifted to his phone. It was face down out of respect. He'd left the vibrator on. The phone hadn't buzzed since he started texting Birdy. It remained quiet after his last missive.

Mariah gave him a side glance. “You hearing any of this, or are you just nodding like one of those bobbleheads on your old dashboard?”

Paul exhaled, chuckling faintly. “I’m listening. Just… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She narrowed her eyes over the rim of her mug. “Let me guess. Not the case. A woman.”

“I proposed marriage.”

Mariah cocked her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“To the lawyer representing the baby’s mother.”

That made her put her mug down.

“It’s for guardianship. It's a legal strategy. To keep the baby and the mom together.”

Mariah tilted her head, one brow arching with slow, amused precision. “Unconventional. Risky. But yeah, it would probably work.”

She studied him for a long beat, eyes sharp and steady. Then: “But you’re not that guy, Paul. You’re the one who always wanted the house and the picket fence. You used to carry around a picture of your niece like she was your own baby.”

Paul still had that picture of baby Allison in his wallet. But that was because the little cherub was the spitting image of him and it annoyed his brother, who was of a fairer complexion.

“Are you in love with this lawyer?”

Paul opened his mouth. He meant to say something practical. Something dismissive. Maybe even deflect with a joke. But then he saw her.

Birdy Chou was marching toward him from across the café. Her dark coat flared out behind her. Her hair caught the warm glow of the overhead lights. She moved like someone who didn’t ask for permission, like someone who made things happen.

The smile hit him before he could stop it. Full, bright, and uncontainable. His heart did this stupid flip, and every part of him—from his spine to the soles of his boots—leaned toward her.

Mariah followed his gaze, then turned back slowly, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“Huh,” she said, standing and sliding her chair in. “Guess I got my answer.”

Paul got his answer too; he was in love with Birdy Chou. It didn't make sense. And that was fine by him.

No woman had ever gotten his heart to skip this many beats. No woman made him want to take care of her and also watch her soar. He could help Birdy fly so high and then tuck her safely into his arms. If only she'd let him.

“So what's this, huh? I don't give you the answer you want, so you start chatting up another woman to fake marry?”

Those were all words from the English language. Except when put together, they made no sense. Until they did.

“Birdy,” Paul said, his grin hitching back into place, “I can’t see anyone else.”

Her mouth opened—ready for another volley—but he didn’t let her get a word in.

“I mean that literally. When you walk into a room? It’s like someone cut the lights on everyone else.

You’re all I can see. When I close my eyes, it’s only you.

When I’m writing a report, and I spellcheck the word ‘intimidating’—it comes with a picture of you in my mind.

If you weren’t a lawyer, I’d accuse you of witchcraft. ”

Birdy's jaw worked. Her eyes flashed. But the fire was… faltering. Not gone—but flickering. Like he’d managed to surprise her.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She looked at him like he was the storm now. And she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to run through it or take cover inside of it.

“Birdy,” he said gently, “this is Mariah. Captain Mariah Ellis. Army JAG. Old friend.”

Mariah raised a hand with an amused little wave.

“She was consulting on the case. Custody issues, guardianship angles. She’s brilliant. Almost as brilliant as the woman who argued six successful motions before lunch yesterday. Whose only flaw, apparently, is misfiling her biennial paperwork.”

Mariah slung her coat over her arm. “Well. I’ll leave you two to your… courtship strategy meeting. Good luck.”

Paul waited until Mariah was out of earshot. He was already going to get raked over the coals in their vet group chat by the pieces Mariah had heard firsthand. No need to give her more ammunition.

When Paul turned back to Birdy, she was suddenly all business, her voice clipped, her eyes focused. Her arms crossed over her chest, hands balled into determined little fists.

“If we do this?—“

Truth be told, that's all Paul heard. Everything after that was static. In fact, he didn't even hear the if. All he heard was we and do and this .

“…it’s because it’s the most legally sound option. It gives Beverly and the baby stability, and it strengthens our position in front of the judge. I have a clause I’ll want added to the guardianship agreement…”

He couldn’t help it. His smile broke wider. Brighter. Like the sun had just elbowed through cloud cover and parked itself across his whole body.

She'd stopped talking. She was staring at him. She reached for his arm… and gave his biceps a squeeze. “Put your arms around me.”

Paul didn't ask why. He did as he was told. He wondered if he should flex. But her next action stole the breath from his lungs and the strength from his entire body.

Birdy Chou rose up on her toes. And then she kissed him. No warning. No lead-up. Just a swift, sudden, soft press of her lips against his.

The impact was a detonation behind his eyes. His pulse roared. His hands moved on instinct, ready to pull her in, to anchor her, to never let her go?—

But she was already gone.

One step back.

Then another. Distance. Composure sliding into place like armor.

“Why?” he managed, blinking at her like someone who’s just gotten knocked down by the world heavyweight champion.

Birdy adjusted her coat, chin high. “Because in romance novels and movies, the first kiss in a marriage of convenience happens at the vows. And it’s always a surprise. I just wanted to get it over with.”

Paul followed her gaze as she glanced around the café. The barista and two customers were staring openly, mouths parted mid-sip. He turned back to her, dazed and smitten.

“If that was getting it over with, I cannot wait for the next chapter.”