Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(3)

“Alexandria and Bryce,” Alton announced, “Judge Townsend is here to marry you. Now.”

“N-now?” My knees gave way as my stomach fell to my feet. Yet I didn’t fall. My new savior was once again omnipresent. Bryce’s arm caught me and pulled me upright again.

My vision filled with the man I was about to marry: his gray eyes, blond hair, and ruddy cheeks. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what I wanted. I’d had a plan. My finish line was almost in sight.

“No!” I shrieked. “My momma.” I turned to Alton. “You said my mother could be here. You promised.”

“I’m afraid that’s no longer possible.”

What the hell does that mean?

Alton turned to Judge Townsend. “Keith, we need to expedite this process. You can predate the license?”

“B-but the wedding?” Suzanna protested, once again coming to my rescue. “This is just the legal part… right? We can still have the ceremony?”

Alton stopped Suzanna’s objections with merely a look, one I’d seen many times.

He motioned for the judge to continue as the noise level from the guests increased. Their low din had grown to a rumbling roar.

What is happening?

“Keith?” Alton urged.

“Er, yes.” He looked from me to Bryce. “Today we gather to celebrate—”

“No,” Alton interrupted, his neck tensing. “Get to the legal part.”

Judge Townsend nodded and looked down at the paper in his hand. “Okay, well, Edward Bryce Carmichael Spencer, do you take Alexandria Charles Montague Collins to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Bryce’s support of my waist increased, pulling me closer against his side. “Yes, I do.”

My sinking heart seized as the doorknob to the office rattled.

“It’s locked,” Alton said as if to reassure us. “I told you we wouldn’t be disturbed. Keep going.”

Rapid-fire knocks came pounding on the wood. The banging grew louder.

“Keep going!” Alton screamed.

Voices called from beyond the door. “Mr. Fitzgerald! Mr. Spencer!”

Alton reached for Judge Townsend’s arm. “Keith, do this now if you ever want to see that bench again.”

Judge Townsend’s eyes widened as he turned back to us.

“Alexandria Charles Montague Collins, do you take…”





For everyone who stopped believing in fairy tales.





THE LARGE WOODEN doors rattled upon their hinges as rapid-fire knocking pounded the door, growing louder and louder with each passing second. Alton’s and Bryce’s names were called repeatedly from the other side, each time with more urgency. Some of the voices sounded familiar while others did not. The pleas blended into a chant as pounding kept a strange yet frantic rhythm.

“Keep going!” Alton screamed.

The voices from the other side were unrelenting in their urgency. “Mr. Fitzgerald! Mr. Spencer!”

Alton reached for Judge Townsend’s arm. “Keith, I meant what I said about seeing that bench.”

Judge Townsend’s eyes widened as he turned back to us.

“Alexandria Charles Montague Collins, do you take Edward Bryce Carmichael Spencer to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

It was increasingly difficult to focus on his question or this farce of a wedding as we all turned toward the growing roar.

I took a deep breath, contemplating my next move. Was Chelsea safe? Had Nox’s men succeeded in freeing my momma? Was that the reason for this new rush?

“Why?” I directed my question to my stepfather. “Why can’t my mother be here? You promised.”

“Dear, she’ll be at the ceremony.”

As if she weren’t present, but simply an ostentatious ornament decorating Alton’s office, no one acknowledged Suzanna’s response. She didn’t hold any more answers than anyone else in that room. No one did, except Alton.

In response, his gray eyes glared my direction. There were volumes of retorts on the tip of his tongue. They hung in the air, just out of reach. Silently, I stared back, clenching my jaw and reading his demeanor. The anger was customary, but the anxiety was not. Somehow, something was awry. Bryce and I may have been dressed for a wedding, but that hadn’t been the plan a few hours ago as Suzanna went on and on about the arrangements.

“Judge Townsend?” I asked as the room waited for my answer. “When were you asked to perform this ceremony?”

He glanced from me to Alton and back. The beads of perspiration on his upper lip multiplied. “Miss Collins, do you take—”

“Was this planned?” I asked again.

“Alexandria.”

Ignoring Alton, I asked again. “Judge, when did you agree to marry us?”

“Alex,” Bryce said, “just answer the damn question.”

I looked him in the eye. “Don’t you want a real wedding?”

The door continued to rattle, the voices growing louder, telling us they were about to enter. Even Alton’s cheeks began to pale, the red fading to gray, a lighter version of his eyes, yet darker than his hair.

“Don’t you think we should find out what’s happening?” I asked.

“Alexandria, now,” Alton growled.