Page 36

Hadley

May: Wearing a Saint Laurent tux as the bride. Oh yeah, and marrying Ace Foxx, regardless of whether or not it’s “real.”

MaryJune Howser nearly spits out her chamomile tea when Ace steps up to the window at town hall and asks for a marriage license.

She snort-laughs, taking in his crisp black suit and the white-collared shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, sans a tie, of course.

I roll my eyes at how stupidly attractive he looks.

I’ve never been one to fidget much when I feel good in what I’m wearing, and today, I feel really fucking sexy.

I decided on repurposing the tuxedo I wore for Lincoln’s wedding.

It was Saint Laurent, and I bought it thinking that I’d only ever wear it once.

With my aggressively tall stilettos, it’s absolutely the right choice.

This is an agreement between friends, for lack of a better explanation, and a marriage of convenience.

I wasn’t going to wear a pretty white dress.

Despite the mixed signals and a life-altering kiss, this is a business deal.

When I woke up this morning, I was alone again in my soon-to-be husband’s bed.

It’s been a couple of days of that, ever since I’ve started spending the night in his room.

He falls asleep in his office, and he makes sure he’s out of the house bright and early.

His distance makes this feel like it should—a business agreement.

I’m old enough to know when to read the room.

I’ve been ghosted and simply not picked before—this isn’t my first rodeo.

It might sting, but it doesn’t matter. Today’s nuptials aren’t leading to a happily ever after.

With a deep breath, I press my palms down on my thighs and drag them down the sides of my pants along the black satin stripe, trying to ease my anxiety.

“I’ll just need your license.” MaryJune smiles, giving me a once-over, her lips pinching as I hand it over.

She lets out a judgmental hum. The town gossips are nothing if not consistent in who they are high and low on.

For the greater part of this year, my name has fallen from their lips as if they’ve always known I was trouble.

Just by being a Finch. The funny part is, plenty of them have had some sort of business with my father over the years.

They’d been fine with it until they were swindled out of money, needing to hire attorneys to confirm they knew nothing of his illegal ventures.

I merely shared a name with him, while they were the ones shaking hands.

Ace is very good at making people feel uncomfortable.

It’s a Foxx trait, to glare long enough and add in enough silence that it makes you question your own morals.

MaryJune is currently on the receiving end of it.

And it makes me smile so fucking wide. Bitch .

His hand moves to mine and links our fingers, as if we’ve held hands a million times.

It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it’s a small comfort that I won’t forget—my husband holding my hand publicly on our wedding day.

It’s a prudish plot twist I never saw coming.

I relish watching her eyes glance at our hands. I give her a wicked smile as we leave.

“That’s pretty consistent, then? The way everyone seems to give you shit for something you had no part in?” he asks as we’re pulling up to Church a few minutes later.

“You know people here. They like to make heroes and villains out of the same handful of people. It just depends on what rotation you’re on,” I say with a brave smile. I try to play off how much it hurts to hear people who have watched me grow up lean into the idea that I’m anything like my father.

I smile as Presh greets us, and I’m a bit surprised that she knew we were coming.

“Presh, thanks for doing this,” Ace says to her, as if they’re friends who go way back.

“Of course,” she says with a smile as she comes outside with a small book.

Her dark hair is the same shade as mine, and she reminds me of my mother, though I don’t think of her often.

When a woman decides to leave and never look back, it’s easy to let time do its job and help you forget.

I wonder if she’d be happy seeing me right now.

“This wasn’t planned, then?” she asks, curious.

I smile at how extremely accurate that is. “It was unexpected.”

She hums, signing the marriage license as a witness and officiant. “I don’t know.” With a raised eyebrow, she smirks. “Unexpected has its way of being romantic.”

I don’t correct her, and neither does Ace.

“Come with me. Let’s do this over there.

” She points out at the water, where the river cuts through her property that descends toward the caverns.

It’s one of the many things I love about this spot; the sound of water is so calming.

It reminds me of fishing trips with Griz and the guys.

I always feel like one of them when they include me on those trips.

I shed my jacket, feeling that humidity kicking in.

Ace’s attention flicks down to my shirt as I walk up along the landing on the river’s edge. Swallowing roughly, his eyes trace the edges that are cut right at my sides along my curves, with the way it halters behind my neck and ties low at my back.

“We can keep this simple, if you’d like, unless you have something of your own to say,” Presh says as she looks between us.

I smile and nod as Ace does the same.

“Perfect.” Presh smiles. “Hadley Finch and Atticus Foxx, two names I’m not all that surprised to hear together. Today is a brief moment in time. The stroke of a pen.”

I stand a little taller as I watch the lines along his eyes crinkle just a pinch. His strong jawline tensing then relaxing as his gaze stays connected with mine. My face warms at the way he’s looking at me.

“Brief moments, but this one is one that you’ll remember.”

I think about the small moments that are impossible to forget—the way he gets so flustered with me and can't help but run his palm across his mouth to either keep from smiling or saying something he shouldn’t, or the way his eyes always find mine in a room, or the deep sound of a short hum when he kissed me.

It takes me a moment to recognize exactly where we are.

I look out across the river at a tree that seems like it should have fallen by now.

Its craggy shape and slightly burned branches, and just to the left of it is where I’d parked the night Ace found me.

As if Fiasco had somehow planned this moment all along.

The same space, only on the opposite side of the river, and years later.

A fateful coincidence, the constant in both being him.

Presh wraps her hand around my wrist, pulling my focus back to the man in front of me.

The blue-gray eyes, the only color that calmed me on a night that changed everything.

The wall of a man who stepped in front of me, worried and angry for me.

The only person who has ever fixed my mess and never wanted it to be repaid, or even acknowledged.

With a smile, she hums. “Une preuve d’amour.

” She squeezes my wrist only slightly and continues.

“Hadley Jean Finch and Atticus Kelly Foxx, I’m happy to share this day with you.

Congratulations.” When I look back at her, eyes glassy, she says, “I always like to leave couples on their own to say a few things and enjoy their first kiss as husband and wife privately. Your mom and dad...” She looks at Ace with a reminiscing smile.

“They spent so long together that Griz had to request that they get back to their own party.”

I can tell he wasn’t expecting that. He clears his throat and gives her a brief smile and nod.

After she’s made it a few feet away, I say, “I didn’t realize she married your parents.”

“Neither did I,” he says, visibly affected by that detail.

“I thought they were married at the distillery?” I ask, curious now.

He moves his head to the side, looking out toward where I had. “No. It was by the river. My mom would come spend time with Presh when we would go fishing. She said she’d rather be near baked goods than fish guts.”

Stepping closer, I loop my arms around him.

It takes him a moment, but he hugs me back, holding me against him in silence for a few minutes.

His parents have been gone a long time, but everyone in Fiasco knows they were taken far too soon.

A car accident that ended up with their vehicle exploding and Ace there to witness it.

Plenty of people gossip, but the softness and care most have when it comes to that particular story is always the tone.

“You alright? Having second thoughts?” I say jokingly to lighten the moment. It isn’t a normal practice to hug Atticus Foxx, but then neither is marrying him. I suppose it’s a day of firsts all around.

“No second thoughts, sugar.”

I rear my head back and try not to look ridiculous smiling at him. “Was that. . . ? Did you just call me sugar ?”

“It’s our wedding day. Seemed like the right time to give you something you wanted,” he says, stepping back.

I raise my eyebrows. “Husband, you need to start choosing your words more wisely. There are a lot of things that I want.”

The sweetness of the way his mouth tilts up just a pinch to the right isn’t something I’ve seen many times in the years I’ve known Atticus Foxx. He waits for me, and we walk together, back up the path toward reality.

As we approach where Presh is waiting for us, she says, “Hadley, love, I woke up this morning and was eager to make your favorite.” And then she winks at Ace. “French cream with brandy-soaked cherries. Have a treat before you both leave?”