Chapter Eight — William My Husband
1369 Words
I was glad Theo was awake.
More than glad.
Relieved.
The boy had been fighting for his life, and now he was sitting in a hospital bed, breathing on his own, with his heart doing what it was supposed to do.
That should have been all I cared about.
And, for the most part, it was.
But there was something else I couldn’t ignore.
A promise.
An agreement.
Owen had promised to marry me.
And I had kept my side of the agreement.
Four hundred thousand dollars.
Everything had been paid.
The surgery had happened.
Theo had survived.
Now it was Owen’s turn.
I didn’t want to be cruel.
I didn’t want to pressure him while his son was recovering.
But the truth was simple.
We had made a deal.
And I expected him to honor it.
So I went to the hospital the next morning.
When I entered Theo’s room, I found him asleep again.
Owen was sitting beside him.
“He fell asleep again,” Owen explained.
“The doctor said he would be tired.”
I nodded.
“How is he?”
“He’s fine. They checked him this morning. His heart is responding well. They gave him his medication.”
“Good.”
I looked at the boy.
Then at Owen.
“We need to talk.”
His expression changed.
“About what?”
“You know.”
He looked away.
“The marriage.”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Okay.”
I nodded toward the door.
“Outside.”
He hesitated before following me.
⸻
The hallway was quiet.
We stopped near the chapel.
I looked at him.
“We had an agreement.”
“I know.”
“I need that agreement fulfilled today.”
His eyes widened.
“Today?”
“Yes.”
He looked back toward Theo’s room.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No.”
His voice became firmer.
“I can’t plan a wedding. I can’t leave the hospital. I don’t want to leave him.”
“I didn’t ask you to leave him.”
“Then how am I supposed to marry you?”
“We don’t need a wedding.”
He stared at me.
“I just need you to become my husband.”
He looked genuinely overwhelmed.
“But who will stay with Theo?”
“I’ve already made arrangements.”
“What arrangements?”
“A judge will be here at eleven.”
His mouth opened slightly.
“A judge?”
“Yes.”
“You already arranged this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
I watched him carefully.
“You wanted to stay here. So stay.”
I nodded toward the chapel.
“We’ll have a private civil ceremony there.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“I usually do.”
⸻
At exactly eleven, the judge arrived.
We went into the small hospital chapel.
It was quiet.
Private.
No guests.
No family.
No friends.
No celebration.
Just two strangers standing opposite each other.
Owen looked nervous.
I probably did too.
Though I would never admit it.
The judge began reading the marriage rites.
He spoke about commitment.
Responsibility.
Legal obligations.
The permanence of marriage.
I listened.
I had heard those words before.
But they had never meant anything to me.
Until that moment.
Because this time, I was standing there.
About to become someone’s husband.
I had spent my entire life saying marriage was pointless.
Yet somehow, I was getting married.
And I hadn’t even told my grandmother.
I hadn’t signed a prenup.
I hadn’t protected my assets.
I hadn’t called my lawyers.
I hadn’t done anything I normally would have done before entering a legal agreement.
I simply stood there.
And listened.
Then the judge asked us to exchange rings.
I had bought a simple gold band for myself.
But for Owen, I had brought something else.
My mother’s ring.
Not her wedding ring.
This was a ring she used to wear.
A simple gold band with delicate, almost invisible patterns worked into the surface.
It wasn’t extravagant.
It wasn’t flashy.
But it was hers.
I don’t know why I brought it.
I could have bought Owen something new.
Something expensive.
Something appropriate.
Instead, I had opened the box containing my mother’s ring that morning and carried it with me.
Maybe some part of me wanted to give him something that mattered.
Maybe I simply couldn’t explain it.
I handed it to him.
“This is for you.”
He looked at the ring.
Then at me.
“Your mother’s?”
I nodded.
“She used to wear it.”
His eyes softened.
“I can’t take this.”
“You can.”
“William—”
“Put it on.”
He hesitated.
Then he slipped it onto his finger.
It fit perfectly.
I stared at his hand.
My mother’s ring.
On my future husband’s finger.
It was a strange sight.
Then Owen picked up my ring.
His hands trembled slightly as he placed it on my finger.
The judge continued.
Then came the words I never thought I’d hear.
“By the authority vested in me by law, I pronounce you legally married.”
Silence.
I looked at Owen.
Owen looked at me.
Husband.
That word felt strange.
The judge congratulated us.
We signed the marriage certificate.
Then he asked us to take a few photographs for the legal record.
We stood beside each other.
The camera flashed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then it was over.
Just like that.
I was married.
Owen was my husband.
His legal name was now Owen Blackwood.
My name.
My family name.
A name that had belonged to my family for generations.
Blackwood.
Strong.
Old.
Established.
And now it belonged to him too.
Owen stared at the marriage certificate.
I watched him.
He looked stunned.
As if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Honestly, neither could I.
⸻
When we walked back toward Theo’s room, Owen stopped me.
“I need to stay here.”
“I know.”
“I can’t go home.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I need to be with him.”
“I understand.”
He looked at me.
“You won’t ask me to leave him?”
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“I’ll stay here.”
I nodded.
“I’ll arrange whatever you need.”
He looked down at the ring on his finger.
My mother’s ring.
Then he looked at me.
“We’re actually married.”
“Yes.”
“To each other.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“You barely know me.”
“I know.”
“And I barely know you.”
“I know that too.”
He looked confused.
“Why aren’t you worried?”
I looked at the ring on my own hand.
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
I had spent my entire life controlling everything.
And yet this was the one decision I had made without thinking.
Maybe because I had seen him with Theo.
Maybe because I had seen the kind of father he was.
Maybe because something about him had made me believe that this strange arrangement wouldn’t destroy my life.
Or maybe I simply didn’t know what I was doing.
Owen looked back toward his son’s room.
“Can I go inside?”
“Of course.”
He walked away.
I stood there watching him disappear into the room.
Then I looked down at my wedding ring.
William Blackwood.
Married.
I had spent thirty-two years avoiding that word.
Now it belonged to me.
And my husband was on the other side of the door, sitting beside his seven-year-old son.
I didn’t know what the future looked like.
I didn’t know what being married to Owen would mean.
I didn’t know whether this marriage would last beyond the arrangement that created it.
But one thing was certain.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t walking away from something.
I was walking into it.
And I had no idea where it would take me.
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