Grabbing a pillow, I smack him in the face at the same time I say, “Up and at ’em, Heyes!”
He wakes with a shout, almost as entertaining as Georgie’s reaction this morning as he flails about. “Whosere?” When his eyes find me in the dimness of the cabin where he sleeps, he groans and falls back onto his pillow. “Someone had better be dying, Kingston.”
I didn’t used to be a morning person, but running the bakery necessitated that I change my habits. Coop, who flies tourists around in a floatplane, has no such reasons, and he’s never been good with early wakeups.
“This is equally important as death,” I tell him and lean against the driftwood table we built a while back. “I’m getting married today and need a witness.”
He lifts himself onto one elbow, squinting at me as he yawns. “Yeah, definitely heard you wrong just now. I thought you said you’re getting married.”
I lift an eyebrow.
Taking a slow breath, Coop looks around the boat and then sits up. “Okay. Well, who’s the lucky woman?”
I expected more from him. Most likely, he’s gearing up to laying his thoughts all out there. Especially once he hears who my prospective bride is, he’ll have plenty to say.
I fold my arms, prepping myself for his reaction. “Georgie Carpenter.”
He blinks. “Georgie Carpenter.”
“Yep.”
“As in the Georgie Carpenter who used to make you think holding hands and walking along the beach was fun. The same one who called me an idiot on multiple occasions and had you so whipped that even during the school year you would rather video chat with her than get out of the house and live your life.”
Heat rises up my neck. Coop wasn’t thrilled when Georgie and I started dating. I always wondered if it was because I spent most of my free time with her rather than hanging out with the guys, and it’s looking like I may have been right. There aren’t many of us left in Willow Cove, but Coop has generally been as single as I have with no indication that that will ever change. Though it’s not like Georgie and I will be married in truth, she’s still going to take up some of my limited free time.
I barely see Coop as it is.
He’s not done, adding one last qualification to his list. “You’re talking about the woman who disappeared without a trace after she literally left you stranded on an island when you proposed to her?”
“Technically you left me stranded on an island. But yes.” I wait for him to have any sort of reaction that isn’t blank confusion. “That’s the one.”
His eyebrows dip low. “Can I ask why you’re marrying Georgie Carpenter today?”
I explain the situation as succinctly as I can, growing more tense with every nod he gives me. He’s being way too calm about all of this. “So we’re heading to the courthouse today to make it official,” I finish.
Coop takes a breath, his expression still decidedly empty, and then he climbs out of bed and stands in front of me so he can put his hands on my shoulders. “King, I mean this with all the sincerity of our lifelong friendship: you’re an idiot.”
Don’t I know it.
Chapter Seven
Georgie
It’s been a long time since I last imagined my hypothetical wedding day with King, but it certainly wasn’t this—standing in the judge’s office lined with pegboard walls and maroon carpet that has seen ten years too many. I’m not even in a dress, though I did put on some nice slacks and my favorite pair of heels. They still don’t bring me up to King’s height, which is wildly unfair. I stopped growing at sixteen, and it feels like he grew six more inches after I left Willow Cove.
For some reason, the suit he’s wearing is really highlighting the fact that this man is so much more than the boy I left.
While the judge shuffles through some papers, a throat clears in the corner of the room, pulling my attention that way for the millionth time. Cooper Heyes has been glaring at me from the moment I showed up at the courthouse like it’s his personal mission to silently drive me out of town. He and I were never friends, but clearly he’s holding as much of a grudge as King is.
Maybe that’s because I sort of blackmailed Coop into flying me back to Willow Cove the night King proposed. And by sort of I mean absolutely. I needed a way off that island, and I couldn’t have King sitting next to me during the flight back.
King brought his pilot friend here as a witness, and I have no idea if Coop thinks this marriage is legit or not. Regardless, he doesn’t like it, and I still feel his glare even when I face forward again.
“Here we are.” Judge Delgado finds whatever he was looking for and slides a paper and pen toward me. “If you’ll sign here, Miss Carpenter.”
That’s it? I just write my name and then I’ll be married? I know it’s not real, but that marriage license looks very real, and no one but King—and Coop—knows I’m doing this. Not even my parents know, which will hopefully remain the case until after the divorce is final. Or indefinitely. I should have at least told Cecily so I would have someone on my side, though my best friend likely would have taken the first flight out of JFK and tried to stop me. All I’ve given her are a few vague texts so she knows I’m still alive, and she is not going to be happy with me when I fill her in later today.
“You can still change your mind,” King mutters beside me. He smells far better than he did yesterday. Looks better too. Where I tossed and turned all night, King looks like he had the best sleep of his life.
I probably look like a mess, but it’s not like King has noticed. He’s barely looked at me once since showing up at the bakery around ten this morning and telling Meg that she’ll need to handle everything herself for a couple of hours.
I swallow, surprised by the emotion that sits heavy in my throat. I’m getting married, and my husband-to-be can’t stand me. This might be the stupidest decision I’ve ever made, but I don’t have a lot of options. King doesn’t either. We can make this work. I can make this work.
I scribble my name and hand the pen to King, who signs without hesitation.
“Are there any objections?” the judge asks, looking at Coop.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not going to stop them.”
“Very well.” Given the nature of this marriage, we probably should have brought in some lawyers, but it’s too late now. The judge declares us husband and wife and invites us to kiss if we choose.
It seems weird not to, but my new husband would have to look at me for us to take that step. And it’s probably weird if we do kiss. This isn’t a real marriage, and we’re going into it with the knowledge that it is going to end as soon as it can.
Still, I look at King and wonder what’s going through his head. I doubt he would have even considered this arrangement if he wasn’t desperate, but I’m not sure how I feel about him being completely unaffected by our sudden change in marital status. He claimed to love me at one point—he said it many times, in fact—and I still have occasional moments when I wonder what might have been if I had stayed.
“Mr. Kingston?” The old judge leans forward, glancing between us because neither of us have moved. “Are you alright, son?”
