He hadn’t thought of that. Maybe the plan was dead in the water. But hadn’t his friend Ethan gotten married at the last minute? “I think it can be waived. Nancy Rallings is the town clerk, and I furnished her house. I’ll see what I can find out.”

He couldn’t believe she was considering it. He could be marrying Kate in a matter of hours. In front of friends, family, and media. His legs suddenly quaked as he remembered the article in the paper spelling out the details. The wedding was going to be a media circus. They might want to interview him.

His mouth felt like it was stuffed with sawdust. “No interviews,” he said.

It took Kate a moment to hear him, lost in thought as she probably was. “What?”

“I’ll let the media snap all the photos they want, but I won’t give interviews.”

She shrugged, eyeing him. “I agree—we don’t need to complicate things. What about your family? How are they going to feel?”

That gave him pause. His mom had been urging him to move on since Emily died five years ago. Kate, however, was the last person his mom would want him moving on with. If he told his mom the marriage was temporary, she would be rude, scare Kate off for good. But if she knew he loved Kate, she’d have to make an effort, wouldn’t she?

“My parents are out of town right now, but my brother and sister are here. I’ll call my parents afterward and tell them we got married. And I don’t want them to know the particulars. As far as they’re concerned, it’s the real thing.” Besides, if it worked the way he hoped, there’d be no exit strategy needed. He held out his hand. “Deal?”

His breath caught and hung below the mass in his throat.

Kate stared at him, her eyes a mixture of fear and resolve. Then she put her hand in his. “Deal.”

Three

Three

There’s no such thing as Mr. Right. But there is a Mr. Right-for-You.

—Excerpt from Finding Mr. Right-for-You by Dr. Kate

If Kate had to explain the change one more time, she was going to pull every last hair from her head. The horror etched into the eyes of Anna, Chloe, and Pam had been enough to start the second-guessing. They’d run over the pros and cons, quickly, more for their benefit than anyone’s. Kate had covered that ground a dozen times already.

Her dad had listened silently, with shoulders squared and back straight, his only parental concession the lone worry line stretching across his squeaky-clean forehead.

“It’ll be okay, Dad. I know what I’m doing.”

He’d taught Kate to think independently, and he never questioned her decisions. Even now, the most he’d said was, “Kate . . .”