Page 96 of Married in Michigan

He chuckles. “You already did move in,” he says. “And it is morning.”

“I meant into your room.” I peek at the window—dawn blushes against a gray-black sky. “Can you stay in bed with me?”

He nods. “I’ll stay.”

“Paxton?” I ask.

A silence. “Mmmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“What you’re doing for Mom. You don’t have to.”

“Want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I can. It’s something…meaningful…that I can give you.” He exhales harshly. “Stuff, no matter how expensive, doesn’t seem to matter to you. It’s all just stuff. This is something that means something.”

I cling to him more tightly, draping myself on him. “You get me.”

“I do.”

I laugh. “I do.”

He snickers. “Soon.”

“What can I give you that’s meaningful to you, Pax?”

A long silence; I wonder if he’s fallen asleep without hearing my question, but then he groans, a sleepy sound of tenderness. “Already did.”

“Blowjobs don’t count,” I say with a snort.

He shakes his head drowsily. “Not that.” His eyes find mine, so sleepy. “You. Your heart. Being here. Staying here with me.”

“Good,” I say. “Because that’s all I have to give.”

“I have everything else, Mack,” he murmurs. “Love, affection, tenderness…those are the only things I can’t buy.”

“Pax—”

He groans. “If you don’t shut up and go to sleep, I’m going to say it.” I close my mouth with an audible snap, and he huffs a laugh. “Good. Now sleep.”

“Yes, dear,” I mutter.

21

New York City. One p.m. A flurry of people buzz around me, curling, blow-drying, and putting my hair into an elaborate updo, applying makeup, doing my nails, affixing fake eyelashes.

Wedding day.

Camilla has tried to barge in at least six times, and each time she has been rebuffed by Liam and his army of bodyguards, who are being paid by Paxton rather than Camilla, and so are immune to her anger, threats, and attempted bribes.

I can hear her outside now, berating the door guards.

“—my wedding, I’m paying for it, and you damn well better let me in—”