A Forever Kind of Family (19 page)

“Isn’t there something else we can do?” Ryan asked.

“You’ve done everything you can. You’ve both made a dedicated effort to do what’s best for Oliver, and I can’t see any reason why the judge would rule against your application.”

“But you can’t guarantee that he won’t.” Harper echoed the lawyer’s words.

“Every judge has his or her own personal biases,” Shelly warned. “It’s possible that a judge might decide that the biological tie between Oliver and Aubrey carries more weight than anything else. It’s also possible that a judge might favor the stability of a traditional marital relationship.”

“That’s not fair,” Harper protested.

“I’m not saying either of those factors will come into play—I’m just letting you know that they might.”

“Well, we obviously can’t manufacture a biological connection,” Ryan noted. “But we could get married.”

Shelly sat back in her chair and folded her hands on her desk, her gaze shifting between her clients. “Is that something you’ve considered?”

Ryan reached for Harper’s hand and linked their fingers together, squeezing gently in a silent plea for her cooperation. “I haven’t had a chance to formally propose, but it’s something I’ve—we’ve—been thinking about.”

He hoped the lawyer didn’t notice the tiny furrow that appeared between Harper’s brows as she squeezed his hand back, almost painfully hard.

“Hypothetically, I can tell you that a legal union between the child’s named guardians would provide the court with evidence of stability,” Shelly said cautiously. “However, I cannot advocate a marriage solely for the purpose of bolstering your case for custody.”

“Of course not,” Ryan agreed.

“You can let me know if you decide to take steps in that direction,” Shelly said. “And I’ll let you know as soon as we have a hearing date.”

They thanked the attorney and walked out of her office, still holding hands.

But as soon as they were outside the building, Harper turned to him. “Are you insane?” she demanded.

“Are you referring to my proposal?”

“If by
proposal
you mean your asinine suggestion that we should get married to strengthen our case for custody of Oliver, then yes.”

“Then the answer is no—I’m not insane. And if you take a minute to think about it, you’ll realize the idea isn’t just sane but rational,” he insisted. “We’re both committed to raising Oliver, because that’s what Melissa and Darren wanted us to do, but showing the court that we’re equally as committed to one another might be the only way to ensure we get to keep their son.”

“Why can’t we just trust the judge to see that we’re the best option for Oliver?”

“Because we don’t get a second chance if he decides against us.”

She nibbled on her lip, unable to deny that fact but apparently not yet convinced to go along with his plan.

“Think about it,” he urged. “Marriage would simply be a formalization of our current arrangement. And it would make things easier for Oliver, too, if we were married. Especially when he starts school and gets involved in extracurricular activities.”

“How do you figure?”

“Instead of a teacher trying to connect Mr. Garrett and Ms. Ross to Oliver Cannon, it would just be Mr. and Mrs. Garrett and Oliver.”

“So not only am I supposed to marry you, I’m supposed to take your name?”

He held up his hands. “Your choice.”

She huffed out a breath. “Maybe we could just get engaged.”

He shook his head. “An engagement is easily broken.”

“So are marriage vows.”

Although he understood why she was wary, he couldn’t let her hide behind her fears. “But the exchange of vows shows a deeper commitment than an engagement ring.”

“Marriage is supposed to be sacred,” she said. “Despite the mockery my parents make of it, I know that. And I promised myself that I would never take that step with someone unless I truly believed the marriage could last.”

“I will honor my vows,” he assured her.

“Except for the ‘love’ part.”

She sounded almost wistful, as if she
wanted
him to love her. And he considered—for the briefest of moments—telling her that he did. But while he’d recently begun to acknowledge and accept the depth of his feelings for her, he knew Harper wasn’t ready to do the same. Instead he said only, “Maybe sharing a life and raising a child together will lead us to fall in love.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

“It’s not a decision I can make alone,” he told her. “We both have to be committed to making it work. I know that I am, because I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to honor Darren and Melissa’s wishes for their child.”

Not surprisingly, her chin lifted. “And you think I’m not?”

“I don’t know if you are—are you willing to marry me?”

“If you really think that’s our best option.”

“I do,” he confirmed. “I know it doesn’t guarantee a judgment in our favor, but it can’t hurt.”

“Then I guess we’re getting married.”

“When?”

“I’m free for the rest of the day,” she said.

He stared at her for a minute, trying to decide if she was serious. “We can’t get married today.”

“Actually, we can,” she told him. “In North Carolina, a marriage license is valid as soon as it’s issued—there’s no waiting period required.”

“How do you know that?”

“We did a live proposal and wedding on
Coffee Time with Caroline
for Valentine’s Day.”

“What if the proposal had been refused?”

“We had a backup plan,” she told him.

“Of course you did,” he mused.

“So—are we going to get married today?”

“No.”

Her brows rose. “You’ve changed your mind?”

“No,” he said again. “Because I don’t know about your mom and dad, but I know mine would never forgive me if they weren’t invited to my wedding.”

“I thought we were just getting married, not having a wedding.”

“And the difference is?” he asked curiously.

“Witnesses.”

He fought against a smile. “It’s not legal if you don’t have witnesses.”

“Okay—the number of witnesses,” she clarified.

“You don’t want your family to come to the wedding,” he guessed.

He’d never met either of her parents, but he’d heard enough about them to understand why she’d moved away from New York. And while he didn’t believe they’d ever put her needs above their own, he had to believe that they would make the effort to attend their only daughter’s wedding.

“I don’t want my mother pointing out that I should play up my cleavage to draw attention from my hips or my father hitting on a bridesmaid or my brother getting drunk—but other than that, why not?”

“And suddenly I find myself anticipating the holidays with my in-laws.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she told him.

“Getting back to a wedding date,” he said. “How’s Saturday?”

* * *

“You’re getting married on Saturday,” Kenna repeated, as she examined the gorgeous marquise-cut diamond on Harper’s finger. “As in
this
Saturday?”

It was Wednesday afternoon and Harper had asked the other woman if she was available to meet for lunch between her classes. As it turned out, there was a school-wide assembly after lunch, so Kenna wasn’t just available but willing to play hooky for the rest of the afternoon.

Harper nodded.

“Isn’t that rushing things a little?”

“You eloped in Las Vegas only hours after Daniel proposed.”

“Because Daniel needed to be married to gain access to his trust fund.”

That was a part of the story that Harper hadn’t heard. “That’s why you married him?”

“No, that’s why
he
married
me
. I married him for a hundred thousand dollars,” Kenna said, then laughed at the surprise on Harper’s face. “And then we fell in love.”

“Well, we’re getting married because Ryan believes that a wedding will increase our chances of retaining custody of Oliver.”

“Is that the only reason?” her friend asked, sounding disappointed.

“It’s the only reason,” she confirmed.

Kenna didn’t look convinced. “And how do you expect to put a wedding together in three days?”

“It’s just going to be a small and informal ceremony.”

“Uh-huh,” Kenna said, sounding amused.

“That’s what Ryan and I agreed.”

“So what time and where is this small and informal ceremony taking place?” her friend asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harper admitted.

Kenna’s brows lifted.

“Ryan’s mom said she would take care of the details.”

“And she’ll be happy to do it,” Kenna assured her. “Just don’t be surprised if it’s not nearly as small or informal as you’re expecting.”

“She did say I should buy a new dress,” Harper admitted. “And ask a friend to stand up with me.”

“I’d be happy to go shopping with you.”

“I’d appreciate that. I’d be even more grateful if you’d be my matron of honor.”

“Of course,” her friend agreed. “But now we definitely need to go shopping, because I want a new dress, too.”

* * *

“I think we should get rid of the veil,” Harper said, gazing critically at her reflection in the small mirror as she waited for her cue to walk down the aisle of the courthouse chapel.

Kenna stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “Why?”

“I think it’s too formal for the dress.”

“I like it,” her matron of honor said. “Plus, it’s Ryan’s mom’s, so it covers the ‘something borrowed’ requirement of the poem.”

Harper had been touched that Ellen wanted her to wear the delicate lace headpiece for the wedding and she hadn’t wanted to offend Ryan’s mother by declining. But now...somehow the veil changed everything.

“It would be easier to pretend it wasn’t a real wedding if you didn’t actually look like a bride, wouldn’t it?” Kenna’s soft question showed surprising—and unerring—insight.

“That’s part of it,” Harper admitted.

“If you’re freaking out over a veil, how are you going to handle the vows?” her friend asked.

“I’m not freaking out,” she denied. “Why would I freak out over an intimate gathering of family and friends?”

It was supposed to be a hypothetical question, to reassure her that there was no need to freak out.

Then the door to the anteroom opened and a familiar voice rang out. “There’s my baby girl.”

And flashbulbs exploded in her face.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, Ryan stood beside Justin, his brother and best man, at the front of the chapel, waiting to exchange vows with Harper.

And waiting.

About fifty people were seated on the pew-style benches in the gallery. The majority of the guests were family, mostly his, with a few friends and work colleagues mixed in here and there.

“It’s four-oh-two,” Justin said close to his ear. “Maybe she decided to pull a runaway bride.”

Ryan shook his head. “Not Harper.” And definitely not with Oliver’s future at stake.

The back doors of the courtroom opened and Ryan’s heart started to race. But it wasn’t Harper who stepped into the room—or even Kenna, who, as matron of honor, would precede the bride. Instead it was half a dozen photographers with various press credentials hanging around their necks and cameras clasped in their hands as they jockeyed for position.

He wouldn’t have guessed that Charisma had paparazzi, but somehow word had got out that soap star Peter Ross was going to be in town for his daughter’s wedding and they’d tracked him down here.

Ryan swore softly under his breath.

“I didn’t know your fiancée was some kind of celebrity,” Justin said.

“She’s not,” Ryan denied. “Her father is.”

“I thought her parents couldn’t be here for the wedding.”

That was the response Harper had expected when she’d sent the email to inform them of the event, and it was the response she’d received. He’d wanted her to call, suggesting that the news warranted a more personal form of communication, but his fiancée had insisted that emailing would alleviate any awkward silences while her parents tried to explain why they were unable to attend their only daughter’s wedding.

She’d accepted their rejection of the invitation with aplomb; he hadn’t been able or willing to do so.

“Obviously there was a change of plans,” Ryan told his brother, not wanting to reveal the part he’d played in getting them there.

The doors opened again and a stylish fiftysomething woman and a much younger man walked in. The woman could only be Harper’s mother, Gayle Everton-Ross, and the man her brother, Spencer. Cameras whirred and clicked as they took their seats in the front row.

When they were settled, the clerk started the recorded music and Kenna appeared. And then, finally, Harper was there, and the sight of her actually stole the breath from Ryan’s lungs.

She wore a white dress. Not a wedding gown but a casual summer dress with tiny little straps over her shoulders and a flirty skirt that fell just above her knees. Her slender legs were bare and her feet were tucked into sexy sandals that tied up around her ankles and added at least three inches to her height.

Her hair was pulled away from her face in some kind of fancy knot and was topped with a short layered veil that he recognized from photos of his mom and dad’s wedding. In her hands, she carried a hand-tied bouquet of creamy white tulips.

“I guess I was wrong about the runaway part,” Justin mused beside him.

Ryan was glad, because he knew that if she ran, he would run after her. And not just for Oliver’s sake.

Harper had agreed to this wedding for the little boy, and Ryan couldn’t deny that he’d deliberately played that card because he knew it would trump any arguments she might have made against his proposal. What he hadn’t told her—what he knew she wasn’t ready to hear—was that he
wanted
this marriage. He wanted her in his life for the long term, not just because Oliver needed her but because he did, too.

* * *

Behind the courthouse was a modest green space with wrought iron benches, urns overflowing with colorful flowers and a three-tiered marble fountain. Though not originally designed for the purpose, the area had become a popular reception location for those who married in the courthouse chapel. Of course, Ellen Garrett had gone one step up from a potluck set out on folding tables and had arranged for seating under cover of an enormous white tent. There was a buffet table where hot and cold hors d’oeuvres were served along with tall glasses of nonalcoholic champagne.