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Hugo

W hite . Every other time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing black. She looked good in black. In white, she was a vision.

The dress was simple. Elegant, like Jo herself. Dozens of tiny mother-of-pearl buttons glimmered on the bodice. And all Hugo wanted to do was rip them out, one by one … with his teeth. But that’s not what today had been about.

The wedding had been a quick affair. Just them, the mayor, and their two witnesses, Alex and Yvette. Exactly as Jo had wanted. After the ceremony, Hugo had insisted on taking the marriage license to the gendarmerie to get the ball rolling on his health insurance update.

“ Toutes mes félicitations , Lieutenant Morant,” the colonel’s secretary had said to him as he handed over the documents. A whole stack of papers. Apparently, this was one company that hadn’t gone digital yet.

Hugo led Jo, still in her wedding dress, to the same coffee shop where Isolde had first told him about Dr. Jo Marsh. It felt like years had gone by, though in reality it’d been less than a month.

“I feel like everybody’s staring at me,” Jo whispered, her hands smoothing the fabric on her lap.

“That’s only because you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Or maybe because I look like a meringue? I don’t think people walk around town in wedding dresses, Hugo. They certainly don’t stop for coffee.” Her hand moved along the table surface until she encountered the base of the mug, her movements precise, fingers brushing the edge of the handle, tracing its curve to ensure a secure grip. She lifted it, cautious, her other hand hovering near the rim. When her lips touched the cup, Hugo’s dick grew hard enough that he was glad he was sitting down. He wanted to be on the receiving end of those lips. Their kiss after the wedding—a chaste peck on the cheek—had left him recalling the one real kiss they’d shared in her apartment.

Hugo liked seeing Jo in a wedding dress. The creamy fabric skimmed her body, highlighting her delicate curves. When he’d first seen her earlier that day, at the courthouse, Hugo had pretty much swallowed his tongue. If Alex hadn’t pushed him forward, chuckling, he might still be standing there, staring at her.

He liked looking at her. He wasn’t going to make apologies for that. But he also liked for the world to know that she was with him. His wife . He was careful not to voice that thought out loud. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate the caveman attitude.

Shaking his head, he pulled his attention back to the forms in front of him.

Pre-existing conditions. He’d already checked into this, and because he was enrolling her in an employer-sponsored health plan, the policy would cover pregnancy-related costs from day one of enrollment. If that hadn’t been the case, Hugo would have been happy to pay out of pocket himself. But he preferred not having to lie to her.

“It’s asking about pre-existing conditions,” he said. Her lips curled up softly. One hand went to her belly. “Only one.”

Damn . A random passerby wouldn’t have been able to tell. But he knew. He could tell that the small, gentle bump was a baby, growing inside her. The thought probably shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did. He wanted to protect her and the baby, sure, but some primal, male part of him wanted to do more than that. He wanted her . Jo misinterpreted the pause. “Are you sure about this, Hugo? We can still go back.”

Hugo checked the correct box and then looked up. “Let’s agree on something, Jo. I know you can’t see my face. But you don’t have to try so hard to read my speech patterns. If there’s something I need you to know, I swear I will tell you.”

“I keep doing that, don’t I? Trying to read between the lines.”

“And you’re good at it. You just don’t have to do it with me.” He recognized the effort she made every single moment of the day. But he wanted their relationship to be different.

“Okay. I will try,” Jo agreed.

Hugo went through the rest of the forms, signed his name, then handed the pen over to Jo. “Everything looks good. Sign here. That’s right. Move your hand down an inch. Yes.” Her signature was her full name, the name he’d seen on the books. Jolene M. Hills. He wondered, not for the first time, when she’d changed it—and why. But he recognized now wasn’t the time to ask.

Once she was done, he stacked the papers neatly and placed them in the envelope that had been provided. “Done. What do you want to do now?”

Jo set the mug back down carefully, her fingers lingering on the handle for a moment before releasing it. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t exactly plan what came after this moment.”

Hugo chuckled softly. “Fair point. I figured we’d return these documents to the office and get them stamped, make sure your health insurance is activated, then take it from there. One step at a time.”

Jo raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism tugging at her smile. “You? Mr. Search-and-Rescue? Taking things one step at a time?”

“What can I say? I learned a lot from my therapist. Besides, this isn’t exactly the kind of situation you can map out with a compass and GPS. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

“Okay. I can work with that.” She paused.

“I would like to take you out to dinner—to celebrate our marriage. There’s a great little Italian restaurant near my place.”

“Our marriage. Still sounds surreal, doesn’t it?”

“A little,” Hugo admitted. “But not in a bad way.”

She tilted her head toward him, her expression curious. “Not in a bad way,” she agreed. “Thank you, Hugo.”

“For what?”

“For not making this feel… transactional.”

He ground his teeth together at the harsh word. Nothing between them could ever be transactional. But if he told her what he was really thinking—that he was exactly where he wanted to be—he knew she’d run for the hills.