Page 11

I s this real life?

I’ve seen that meme a bazillion times, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually felt it.

Like I’m floating, weightless. It’s as if I’m caught between dreams and reality, completely unable to tell the difference.

And all because Sammy Ramirez is about to marry me.

“Okay, Miss. Just read this and sign here,” the older officiant says, sliding a long, printed out marriage form in front of me.

I freeze.

Nerves slam into me, sudden and sharp, turning my pulse into a riot inside my chest.

For a split second, doubt creeps in.

The gravity of what we’re doing.

The impossible ache of wanting it to last.

Then, I feel his hand on me.

It’s large, warm, anchoring, pressing against the small of my back.

A steady reminder.

I feel his energy. His heat. Sammy’s undeniable presence beside me.

I just can’t believe it.

The man who has haunted my every waking thought for years is right here.

Marrying me.

He kisses my temple.

Soft.

Brief.

But enough to send me spiraling all over again.

“ U se your app, Pixie. We have plenty of time,” he murmurs, voice low, intimate, like we’re the only two people in this place.

I bite my lip, nod.

I almost forgot.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

Sammy always knew about my dyslexia.

And unlike others who made me feel less, who made me feel stupid, who made me want to shrink into nothing, Sammy just accepts it.

Like it’s nothing.

Like it’s just another part of who I am.

And that’s just one more thing I love about him.

No judgment.

No impatience.

No frustration.

He’s just so— so him .

And I really do love him, something awful.

That he is standing beside me, strong and tall as an oak, as steadfast as the ground beneath me, is just cake.

This is all just cake.

And I really fucking like cake.

“Would you like to see our collection of rings?” the older woman asks, her face caked in garish makeup, her smile wide and overly eager.

I open my mouth, but before I can even think of a response, Sammy steps in.

“We’ll use these,” he says, voice steady, firm, like there was never any other option.

I watch, stunned, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of rings—rings he’s clearly been carrying with him.

For how long? Since we got to Vegas? Before that?

He hands them over, and the woman places them on a cheap satin pillow, smoothing the fabric as if it elevates the moment somehow.

I only catch a glimpse of them, but already I know I love them.

They’re white gold or maybe platinum and the smaller ring, mine I am assuming, has stones inlaid in the band.

Green stones. Too light to be emeralds.

I want to pinch myself, but instead I look around the room.

The whole place is campy as hell. The gaudy decorations, the cheesy heart-shaped arch, the off-key organ music playing softly in the background. The old man in the baby-blue tuxedo waiting behind her, looking like he’s performed thousands of ceremonies just like this.

There are other couples milling around, browsing the chapel’s offerings, flipping through books of pre-written vows like they’re picking out a dish at a diner.

But Sammy?

The second he walked in, he commanded every ounce of attention in the room.

No hesitation. No doubt.

The quiet strength rolling off him does more than set him apart— it changes the entire atmosphere.

He dismissed the limo driver and the bodyguard before we even stepped inside, but I’m not worried. Not for a second.

Because Sammy is the security.

The shield. The weapon.

And even if I wanted to fight this, to walk away, even if I wanted to question it— what’s the point?

I’m too far gone.

Utterly smitten, completely consumed, so goddamn lost in this man that I know, without a doubt, there is nothing he can’t do.

And apparently, there is nothing he wouldn’t do to claim me.

My heart pounds, my pulse hammering against my ribs as reality slams into me full force.

I am really doing this.

I am marrying Sammy Ramirez.

I take a breath and focus on what I’m doing.

The chapel is small, and I get nervous in crowds. There are forms to read and sign, and I have to hand over my ID.

I bite my lip, but decide Sammy is right.

I use the app I’m developing, ReadEase , to get me through the bulk of it. I built it to help people with different abilities, like me , to go through everyday life. Now, this might not be a normal situation, but I am glad it works.

Gulp. Holy shit, I am doing this.

I sign the license. Collect my ID and put it away.

Sammy does the same.

And then, it’s our turn.

I barely process the ceremony, barely hear the words of the officiant.

My body is vibrating, my emotions tangled in a mess of contradictions.

Emphatic joy.

Immeasurable lust.

Dire need.

I am desperate.

For him.

For this.

The insanity of what we’re doing makes my heart swell and my stomach twist.

And then—we exchange the rings he brought with him and we say it.

“I do.”

Two words.

And before the cheers of the tiny crowd even register— his lips are on mine.

The room disappears.

The noise fades to nothing.

All I know is Sammy. And it’s perfect.

His mouth devours mine. His hands grip my waist like he’ll never let go. And that’s the scariest part.

Because I know it’s fiction.

This isn’t permanent.

I know this is just Sammy being honorable.

He is only marrying me before we sleep together, before he takes what I’ve been saving for him all these years.

He thinks he has to do this.

That this is about duty, misplaced loyalty, some ancient code of honor that only exists in his head.

And me?

I don’t care why he’s doing it.

I just care that he is.

Because I have wanted this man my whole damn life.

And no matter how temporary this is, I am going to go through with it.

Because this is Sammy and desperate as I am, I will take him any way I can get him.

I only hope I will survive what comes after.

I’ll just have to.