Chapter 57 CHLOE

Chapter 57 CHLOE
The courthouse looked painfully ordinary for a place where I was about to make one of the biggest decisions of my life.

There were no flowers, no orchestra, no rows of white chairs filled with people waiting to watch me walk down the aisle.

Just a beige building with a few cars parked outside, and a set of glass doors that looked like they had seen more divorces than marriages.

How very romantic.

“Maybe we should just leave her in here,” Jason said as we glanced at Tiny dozing in the backseat.

My eyes shifted to his. “Is that really a good idea?” I was whispering.

“Yeah, it is.”

I looked at him skeptically.

What if she woke and didn’t see us?

“We’ll be back in no time, babe,” Jason said, as though he’d read my mind. “It’s not like we’ll spend more than twenty minutes in there.”

Well, when he put it like that…

Nodding, I picked my clutch and opened the door before he could run around to do so. It wasn’t like he was big on the whole ‘open the car door for her’ thing, anyway, so why was he starting now?

I glanced at Jason standing beside me in his dark gray suit, looking far more composed than I felt. For a moment, I felt a shiver of pride course the length of my body — he looked so fucking good, and after today, I’d get to call him my husband.

My husband…

Funny, that had never been a word I thought I’d say, ever. My views on the institution had always been skewed, but somewhere along the way, I’d gotten tired of not having my own person. Did that even make any sense?

We walked up the stairs in relative silence and pushed the doors open. It was quiet — probably because it was quite late.

“Are you alright?” Jason asked, observing with narrowed eyes. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

I turned away from his very penetrating gaze, suddenly fascinated by the small reception we were standing in.

The fluorescent lights were rather pretty. Several pictures of past and present judges in stiff white wigs graced the white walls. And wasn’t that painting just beautiful?

“Chloe?” Jason’s voice was low and urgent, as he tugged on my hand claspsed firmly in his — like he knew I was seriously considering the merits of bolting and wanted to stop me.

“Why do you ask?” I looked at him straight in the eyes, calling his bluff. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“You’ve got my hand in a choke-hold, babe,” Jason deadpanned.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, his brows furrowing with concern.

“Define ‘okay’,” I said, pulling my hand from his and attempting to shake the nerves off.

I’m losing it!

Get it together, Chloe.

Blinking rapidly, I counted backwards from one hundred, slowing dragging myself back to the present. I was sitting on one of the wooden benches in what looked like the court room with Jason hunched down in front of me, peering at me worriedly. A middle-aged blond woman wearing a bun so tight it had to have hurt her head stood beside him — considerably shorter, by at least a foot.

‘How did I get here?’ I wondered. My mind was foggy, and my senses dull.

“Is she alright?” she asked Jason, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Of course she is.” Jason retorted, defensively. “Why wouldn’t she be? You’re alright now, aren’t you babe?”

“She can tell me that herself, young man,” she said in an authoritative voice. I bet she made the boys quiver with one stern look.

“She’s fine, ma’am,” Jason insisted, squaring his shoulders at her. “We’re getting married in a matter of—” he glanced down at the wristwatch on his left hand. “—now.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Jason, her head turning slightly to the left to better take him in. “You’re Jason Spencer?!” She stressed the ‘you’ like the very thought was ludicrous. “Paul Spencer’s son?”

Jason nodded stiffly — like he was affronted by her tone. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Bella McGray. I am the magistrate.” She lifted her chin a notch higher, and I watched Jason visibly blanch.

Who was she, exactly?

“Ma’am,” Jason murmured, losing the steam in his voice immediately. “She’s my wife… well, to-be. I really don’t know why she spaced out—”

“Had a panic attack,” Magistrate McGray interrupted.

‘Panic attack?’ My eyes widened at that, the words ringing through my hell like a goddamed bell.

I had a fucking panic attack… I haven’t had one of those in years.

Was this a sign that this whole marriage shebang was a bad idea? And why was my head pounding like a motherfucker?

“...yeah, must be the nerves.” Jason laughed shakily. “We’re both rather nervous, you see.”

She looked around. “Where’s your father? I don’t see him here.”

Jason shrugged those impressive shoulders, his black sweater underneath the jacket somehow making his eyes stand out. He’d cleaned up pretty nicely, looking less like the man who had spent the better part of the last few days driving me insane and more like the man I was apparently about to marry — if we could call the magistrate off our scent.

My ears perked when I heard footsteps approaching rapidly — eerily similar to Derek’s, except it didn’t make my nipples perk up, like usual.

Wait… Let’s back up, shall we? Today’s my wedding. Which means thoughts of Derek weren’t allowed—’

Stop saying his name in your head!

Like he’d been summoned, Paul Spencer stepped into the rather small room, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead.

“McGray.” He walked towards her, his hand outstretched, and as they shook, my eyes met Jason’s gaze, already trained on me.

My lips curved in a tentative smile, as I tried to convey that yes, I was fine… And no, I hadn’t changed my mind.

He didn’t seem to get the message though, because his frown deepened slightly. Taking advantage of the temporal privacy while his dad exchanged small talk with Bella McGray, I tried to allay his fears.

“I’m really fine, Jason. I promise I’m not trying to leave you hanging. I just… I don’t know what happened earlier.”

He stared at me for a while, and I squirmed under that very intense stare-off.

“Is the thought of marrying really that bad that you had a panic attack?” He asked, the frown on his face still making its presence known. “I’m not forcing you into something you don’t want, am I?”

He sounded so horrified by the thought that I heard myself hurriedly try to debunk it, when I really wanted to shout ‘yes’ from the rooftop.

I think I have a penchant for putting myself in unsavory situations.

“No, Jason,” I said, reaching out to take his hand in mine. “Please don’t say that. I’m here because I want to marry you. What happened earlier was a one-off.”

Did I sound as pathetic as I felt?

Regardless, I powered on. “What bride doesn’t experience some sort of nerves on her big day?” I asked.

Could he see how ridiculous the grin spreading across my face was?

“I think you have your answer,” Paul said.

I turned, to find them watching us with identical bemused expressions on their faces.

“Yes, I believe I do,” Magistrate McGray said. “Your son, he's the lawyer, isn't he?”

Paul nodded beaming. This was the most animated I’d seen him, ever.

“Let us proceed then.”

The ceremony was almost ridiculously simple. Magistrate McGray had donned wire-rimmed glasses as she walked us through the paperwork, unhurriedly.

When it was time, she asked us to face each other.

Jason's hands were cool in mine, but I could feel the slight tremor he was trying so valiantly to hide.

Glad the ceremony was sentimental to one of us, at least.

The words themselves were short, straightforward. No limb flowery speeches — just the legal ones that mattered. I said my vows out loud in a clear voice and then listened to Jason pledge loyalty to me in a quieter and steadier tone. Paul provided the rings — simple gold wedding bands, and as I watched Jason slip mine onto my left finger, it hit me that I was now Mrs Spencer, by law.

What did it matter if the brother who made me Mrs Spencer wasn't really the one I wanted?

My eyes dropped to our joined hands.

This was Jason — the man I loved and married. This was what I ‘needed’.

This was a clean slate; a chance to stop looking backward and start looking forward.

And by God, I was going to make it work.

Paul signed as our witness, and the magistrate stamped the papers. Just like that, it was done.

We were married.

His fingers curled around mine, warm and familiar, and he smiled at me just before pulling me into a sweet kiss.

For one brief moment, everything went quiet inside my head.

I squeezed his hand when realized me. "Let's go."

His smile widened, with his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes. Let's do that, Mrs Jason Spencer.

I rolled my eyes, grinning at him.

Outside, Paul walked pumping Jason's hand rigorously, before his arms engulfed me in a hug.

"Welcome to the family, Chloe."

Something in my chest tightened, and I felt a few tears tease the corners of my eyes. I hugged him back.

"Thank you."

We stayed outside for a few minutes afterward while Paul made a few calls and Jason insisted on taking pictures. Apparently, he needed photographic evidence that this had actually happened.

I leaned against him as he wrapped an arm around my waist. Paul stood some distance away, playing camera-man.

"Smile," Jason murmured to me, his own grin wide.

"I am smiling."

"That is your I'm-being-held-hostage smile."

"Maybe because you are holding me hostage." The words sounded weird in my ears, so I chucked awkwardly to soften it.

He laughed, and the camera clicked then. Once, twice, and a couple shots later, we were done.

Looking at the pictures afterward felt strange. There we were.

Jason and Chloe — now husband and wife. I was a wife!

I stared at one of the pictures longer than the others, wondering how I looked so happy that I was positively beaming.

Don't get me wrong. I ‘was’ happy, or at least, part of me was.

The other part, however, was fucking terrified. But I didn't want to think about that right now.

The sound of frantic scratching from the car told us Tiny had finally woken up.

"We should head home," Jason said.

I nodded. "Okay."

Home.

That was another strange word. Because I wasn't sure which home he meant.

To the hotel? Or to the Spencer's?

“You’ll probably want to head home and announce the news to your mother,” Paul said, dragging me out of my thoughts.

Did this family fucking read minds?

“Before she hears it through the grapevine,” he continued, and then in a lower conspiratory tone, “McGray is a known gossip, and she and your mother belong to the same book club.”

Oh…

We decided then that we'd head over to the house to break the news to Gigi, and then return back to the Bellmont for our wedding night.

The drive to the Spencer house was surprisingly quiet.

Jason kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on my thigh. Every few minutes, his thumb moved absently against the spot where my dress had ridden up, exposing the skin on my lap. Tiny curled up on the other thigh, like she was scared that if she let go of me for a second, I’d disappear again.

I looked out the window as we turned the corner leading to the house, feeling my stomach drop for an entirely different reason.

I hadn't been on the best of terms with Gigi before I left. So how the hell was she going to react when she found out that I’d gone and gotten married to her son?