“Wyatt. I don’t feel disdain-” But he was already out the sunroom door and striding across the grassy area toward a large tree. I noticed a tire swing hanging there and felt more guilt as I realized he’d probably put that up for Alyssa.
You have to be this way, I told myself. To protect myself and Alyssa. I needed to focus on what was important, not on indulging my hormones.
I went up to my room. I considered taking a bath in the large clawfoot tub, but thought it would be rude to luxuriate in the amenities of his home after pushing him away. Instead I took a shower, washing away the evidence of our coming together.
When I was done, I put on my pajamas, and a t-shirt, and climbed into bed. It was still early, but I figured I could read and then get a good night sleep. I knew that farming households got up before the sun anyway, so I figured I might as well start getting used to it.
19
Wyatt
I knew Sinclair had a fancy wedding in mind when we were young and dreaming of a life together. She used to bombard me with her ideas of location, her dress, and color schemes. I found it adorable. I could usually turn the conversation to the honeymoon which invariably resulted in us acting out our wedding night.
Me? I hadn’t much thought about the wedding. I’d only thought about keeping her with me and building a life together. However that happened, I was okay with. And then I ruined it by running off.
Today, we were getting married, but it wasn’t the ceremony she’d once told me she wanted. I told her I’d give her a fancy wedding. After all, this needed to look real. And I selfishly thought if she got what she’d dreamed of having, it would remind her of what we planned, and it would be easier to win her over to have a real marriage.
But she was all business, simply wanting to get the ceremony over with. So today wasn’t her dream wedding, and it wasn’t the commitment of forever that I’d wanted. And yet, I was ridiculously happy to be tying her to me legally. It was dangerous to feel hopeful and happy about this, I knew. Chances were that when all was said and done, my heart would be in tatters. I had until this Stark issue was resolved to convince her that I could be the man she wanted and needed. I could be a father-figure to Alyssa. That I wanted what we’d planned for ten years ago.
I’d been with other women during my time in the military, hoping that my mentor was right in that young love was fleeting and I’d get over Sinclair. But I never had. Not really. None of the women I’d been with made me feel alive the way Sinclair did. None of them felt essential to living, like breathing.
Now that I was home and spending time with Sinclair, I realized that she was it for me. If I was going to be happy, she was the key.
Of course, to her, this marriage was a means to an end. She’d help me and the other farmers fight Stark, and hopefully improve her profile so she could eventually run for mayor and win. For now, I was going along with this plan. I hadn’t touched her since the first day that she moved in, and instead I focused on saving the farm.
Because the marriage had to look real, our families were there. I was surprised Sinclair’s parents were going along with this, but maybe there was a benefit to them too. After all, her father’s store relied a great deal on local farmers.
Sinclair stood next to me in front of the judge at the county courthouse as we prepared to say our vows.
“Are we ready?” Judge Peterson had to be nearing ninety years old. His warm friendly eyes smiled at us through his wrinkly face.
“Yes, sir,” I said, putting my hand under Sinclair’s forearm. I supposed my subconscious was afraid she might run off.
Before Judge Peterson could start, the doors at the back of the room opened and a thirty-something-year-old man strode in.
“Mr. Mayor,” the judge said.
So that was the mayor who was more interested in diplomacy than saving the farms that built Salvation. He walked toward us; his gaze laser-targeted on Sinclair in a way that made me want to stand in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a tone that suggested she was surprised he was there.
“What are you doing?” He glanced at me, looking me over and deciding I was lacking.
“I’m getting married, Mo.” She looked at him incredulously. At least I could believe that this wasn’t some last-minute scheme to stop our plan. She wasn’t about to be the runway bride.
“Are you sure about this, Sinclair?”
“Yes,” she said tightly.
I looked to Ryder and his parents, all who seemed baffled too. Trina was biting her lip.
“It’s not like you to be impulsive.” His eyes had a look of pain and desperation which made me realize he wasn’t here as her boss. The mayor had a thing for Sinclair. A wave of jealousy crashed through me.
“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, but we’re in the middle of getting married. Since when is that against a town ordinance?” Was he really going to break up my wedding because he wanted Sinclair to himself?
He ignored me. “Come on, Sinclair. I get what’s happening here. You don’t need to marry this man to help the farmers.” He said “this man” in a way that suggested he thought I was lower than pond scum.
At first, I was shocked by the reaction, and then I was pissed. “With all due respect, Mr. Mayor, I’ll carry you out of here if I have to-”