The fluorescent lights of City Hall's Marriage Bureau hummed overhead like a swarm of accusatory wasps. I sat alone on the hard plastic chair, my hands clenched so tight my knuckles had gone white. Seven times. This was the seventh goddamn time. My phone buzzed against my thigh. I didn't need to look at the screen to know it was Seraphina. Again. The same excuses wrapped in different words, the same poison dripping with honey. The clerk-a middle-aged woman with kind eyes that had seen too many almost-marriages-leaned over her desk. "Mr. Grant? Are we... still proceeding today?" My throat constricted. The words tasted like ash. "Yeah. We're proceeding." Just not with who you think. I pulled up my contacts, my thumb hovering over a name I'd been avoiding for weeks. Zara Brooks. My Dude's sister. The woman who'd proposed the most insane solution to my problems three months ago: a fake marriage. "Come on, Ethan," she'd said, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, that infuriating smirk playing at her lips. "You need to get your family off your back. I need to shut my parents up about settling down. It's a win-win." I'd laughed it off then. Told her I was committed to Seraphina. That we'd work it out. Seven broken promises later, here I was. The call connected on the second ring. "Grant." Zara's voice was husky, like she'd just woken up. Or maybe she was mid-cigarette on that death trap motorcycle of hers. "Finally ready to stop being pathetic?" I closed my eyes. "City Hall. Marriage Bureau. How fast can you get here?" A pause. Then I heard the roar of an engine. "Already on my way."
I'd barely hung up when my phone lit up again. This time, I looked. Seraphina: Babe, I'm SO sorry! Liam twisted his ankle playing basketball. He needs me right now. Can we reschedule? The office will still be there tomorrow! ?? The laugh that escaped my throat was bitter enough to curdle milk. The clerk glanced up, concerned. "You okay, honey?" I wasn't. I hadn't been okay for six months. Not since Liam Sterling-Seraphina's "best friend," her childhood everything, her eternal excuse-had moved back to town. Before Liam, Seraphina used to look at me like I hung the moon. She'd skip work to bring me lunch when I was drowning in blueprints. She'd memorize my coffee order, my favorite songs, the exact way I liked to be held when the panic attacks came. My fingers moved on autopilot, pulling up Liam's number-because of course I had it, because Seraphina had insisted we all be "one big happy family." He answered on the first ring. Seraphina's voice in the background, fussing over him. "Hey, Ethan." Liam's tone was syrupy sweet. "Sorry about today, man. You know how it is. I really needed-" "Tell Seraphina," I cut him off, my voice dead calm, "that I'm done. Tell her she can spend every single day for the rest of her life taking care of you. Because I'm officially out." I hung up before he could respond. The roar of a motorcycle shattered the sterile quiet of City Hall's lobby. Through the glass doors, I watched Zara Brooks dismount her Ducati like she was stepping off a battlefield-all controlled violence and careless grace. She pulled off her helmet, and her dark hair tumbled out in waves that caught the afternoon light. Every head in the waiting area turned. Zara had that effect on people. She pushed through the doors, her leather jacket creaking, her combat boots echoing against the linoleum. When she reached me, she didn't sit down. Just cocked her hip against the chair beside me, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. "So?" Her voice was low, challenging. "You finally ready to stop letting that blonde leech drain you dry?" I met her eyes-ice blue and unflinching. "I need this. My grandfather..." My voice cracked. Zara's expression softened, just barely. "I know," she said quietly. "Leo told me. About the cancer." Right. Of course Leo had told his sister. My best friend since high school, the guy who'd held me together through my parents' divorce, through every failed architecture pitch, through Grandpa's diagnosis. The same guy who'd suggested this crazy scheme in the first place. "Your grandpa wants to see you married before..." Zara didn't finish. She didn't have to. "And my parents are threatening to set me up with some trust fund douchebag if I don't 'settle down soon.'" She made air quotes with her fingers. "We help each other. Simple transaction." "Nothing about this is simple." "Then make it simple." She held out her hand. "You coming or not, Grant?" I looked at her hand-calloused from working on her bikes, strong, steady. Nothing like Seraphina's delicate fingers that had pushed me away seven times. I took it.
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