Rival (Fall Away, #2)(76)

Madoc.

I didn’t doubt him for a single moment, and I never hesitated when I asked myself if I was his.

I was, am, and will always be. This was it.

We’d left our house before Madoc’s dad got home and drove straight into Chicago. I’d barely had any clothes with me, so we headed to my dorm first so I could clean up and grab Tate, and then we’d texted Jared to ditch class and meet us at the City Clerk’s Office.

We needed witnesses and, of course, we wanted our friends there.

I definitely didn’t look like a bride, though. Tate and I had the same style in clothes, which meant I was out of luck for dresses. It was probably for the best, though. I would’ve been uncomfortable.

I wore a flimsy, white blouse with a fancy tie collar and capped sleeves tucked into some nice skinny jeans, and some black ballet flats with a matching black Burberry military coat. It was fitted at the waist and flared out as it fell mid-thigh. Madoc complemented me in his usual expensive jeans and a black military style fall coat that fell just below his waist. He had slapped some paste into his hair to make it stick up and the way he looked at me now, flashing his bright smile, was already doing me in.

Tate and I had scrambled on hair and makeup, but Madoc wouldn’t stop looking at me like he wanted to eat me, so I guess we did all right.

I interlaced my fingers, each hand clutching the other.

The big diamond ring felt like heaven on my finger, and that was saying something for a girl who didn’t wear conventional jewelry.

He’d said it was a family heirloom, and that his father had given it to his mother for their engagement. When I hesitated, he’d laughed and explained that even though her marriage ended in divorce, the grandmother and great-grandmother who’d worn it before all had long, happy lives with their husbands.

Husband.

Questions flooded my head. Where would we live? How badly were our parents going to react? What about school? Would I be good to him? Good for him?

Looking down, I stared at the ring with its intricate detailing on the band, considering the history it represented and the man who gave it to me. He loved me. He was faithful. He was strong.

And our parents had to face the fact that we would never leave each other alone.

“You look happy.” Tate stood at my side as Madoc finished up with the clerk.

I held my stomach and sighed. “I think I’m going to throw up, actually.”

Madoc turned his head, eyeing me with raised eyebrows.

I rushed to add, “But it’s like a wow-I’m-so-excited-I-think-I’m-going-to-be-sick feeling.”

He leaned in and plopped a quick kiss on my lips. “Come on. Let’s head to the courthouse.”

He took my hand and grabbed the marriage license off the counter, but I dug my feet in, stopping him.

“Madoc?” My voice sounded as timid as I could make it. “I think . . . maybe . . . we should find a priest.”

I scrunched my face in an apology.

“A priest?” he asked, his expression confused.

Madoc and I were both raised Catholic and attended parochial elementary schools. However, we’d both stopped practicing, so I could see how he was blindsided by my request.

I gulped. “I just think that my father may kill you unless a priest marries us.” I tipped one corner of my lips up in a smile and clutched Madoc’s hand, dragging him forward. “Come on.”

? ? ?

Jared followed with Tate in his car, and Madoc and I led the way in his. Sovereign’s Pub was on the north side of Chicago, between the Clerk’s Office where we’d come from and Northwestern. We parked in the rear, and I led the way into the bar, knowing exactly where to go.

Sitting in a back room that could be closed off with red velvet curtains, I saw Father McCaffrey sitting at a round table with three buddies. Two of them priests like himself and one old-timer in a leather jacket.

“Father, hi,” I greeted, my hand still in Madoc’s.

He pulled his pint away from his lips and looked at me wide-eyed. “Fallon, dear. What are you doing here?”

He had a strong Irish accent even though he’d lived in this country for more than twenty years. I think he worked hard to maintain the accent. Not only did his parishioners love it, but I knew he helped my father with business and having the accent helped when dealing with Irish clients. And since he’d baptized me, I knew him well. He had graying dark-blond hair, light blue eyes, and a bit of a beer belly. Other than that he was in good shape. His freckles made him look younger than he was. Dressed in his black pants and dress shirt, he also wore an emerald green sweater vest that allowed his clerical collar to be visible.

“Father, this is Madoc Caruthers. My . . . fiancé.” Madoc and I exchanged sideways glances and smiled.

In one respect it felt strange to say “fiancé” when I’d never even called Madoc my boyfriend.

“What?” Father McCaffrey’s jaw hung open.

Right away my heart started to sink. He was going to put up a fight.

“Father, I know this is unusual—”

“Father.” Madoc stepped forward, interrupting. “We’d like to get married. Can you handle that for us or not?”

Way to sweet-talk him, dude.

“When?” Father asked.

“Now.” Madoc tipped his chin down like an adult speaking to a child. “Right here, right now.”