The Forbidden Throb Chapter 36

Emma's POV:

He opened the box, revealing two platinum bands—simple, elegant, perfect. The smaller one glinted with a subtle row of diamonds.

*When did he prepare this?*

My thoughts scattered. We'd only spoken on the phone last night. He'd driven up from Boston this morning. Had he been carrying this all along?

"Emma Johnson," Judge Morrison's voice cut through my spiraling confusion, "do you take Daniel Prescott to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Daniel's gray eyes held mine, steady and focused.

*Say something.*

"I do." The words emerged clearer than I'd expected.

Judge Morrison turned to Daniel. "And do you, Daniel Prescott, take Emma Johnson to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." No hesitation.

Daniel took my ring first, his fingers warm as they found my left hand.

The ring slid over my knuckle with perfect ease, settling at the base of my finger as if it had always belonged there.

*It fits.*

Then Judge Morrison turned to me. "The groom's ring, please."

My breath hitched.

Daniel extended his left hand, palm down, fingers steady.

I reached for the second ring with trembling fingers, lifting it from the velvet cushion. The platinum felt cool and substantial in my grasp.

I guided the band toward his ring finger, my hands shaking slightly. The ring slid home.

I exhaled, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.

Daniel's fingers closed briefly around mine—a gentle squeeze, there and gone.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Maine," Judge Morrison declared, closing her leather folder, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

She smiled. "You may kiss the bride."

My heart lurched.

Daniel's gaze remained on my face, carrying something I couldn't decode. Then he leaned in, pressing a brief, restrained kiss to my forehead.

The brush of his lips against my skin brought that familiar scent—mint and citrus.

*Just like that.*

*I'm married.*

---

Grandma's eyes glistened as she saw the final document.

"There," she said softly, and her gaze moved between us, warm and knowing. "You're officially husband and wife now."

She stood, straightening her cardigan with a satisfied smile.

"Well," she said with a light chuckle, "I'm not about to be that oblivious old woman who doesn't know when to leave. I've got some errands to run anyway."

Her eyes twinkled with gentle teasing. "You two enjoy your time together."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Grandma, you don't have to—we can drive you home—"

"Nonsense," she waved me off decisively. "I'll call an Uber. You newlyweds should have your day."

She pulled me into an embrace, her voice dropping to a whisper against my ear: "Be happy, sweetheart."

Then she turned to Daniel, extending her hand. He took it, inclining his head slightly.

"Take care of her," Grandma said, unusually solemn.

"I will," Daniel replied, his tone steady and sincere.

Grandma nodded, satisfied, then gathered her purse and headed toward the door.

I watched her silhouette disappear down the hallway, a sudden emptiness settling over me.

*Everything happened so fast.*

"Emma."

Daniel's voice pulled me back. I turned to find him watching me with that gentle, probing expression.

"Shall we?" he said.

I nodded, following him toward the exit.

---

Sunlight outside City Hall stung my eyes.

I squinted, letting my vision adjust to the brightness.

Several cars dotted the parking lot, other newlywed couples streaming out of the building with excited chatter.

A middle-aged man carrying a camera approached quickly, wearing an eager smile.

"Congratulations!" he called out, heavy Maine accent coloring his words. "Beautiful day for it. Been real busy today."

He gestured toward a small van parked nearby, its interior crammed with props—bouquets, white veils, silver "Just Married" letter balloons, heart-shaped pillows.

"How about some commemorative photos?" he continued his pitch. "Got all the equipment, fair prices. Big day like this, you gotta have something to remember it by, right?"

I stared at those props, another scene suddenly flashing through my mind.

I'd imagined that scenario before. Us standing in some carefully arranged studio, Nicholas in a crisp suit, me in a white dress. We'd pose in various ways—him cupping my chin, me leaning on his shoulder, or holding hands while gazing into each other's eyes.

Sweet, intimate, love-filled photographs.

But this was Daniel.

I glanced at him sideways. He stood beside me, posture impeccable, expression calm.

*I can't imagine him cooperating with those kinds of photos.*

The exaggerated, overly staged, slightly juvenile memorial shots. That wasn't Daniel Prescott's style.

"We're fine, thank you," I said politely, preparing to decline.

"You'll regret it later if you don't capture this moment," the photographer persisted, clearly unwilling to lose the sale. "This is a day worth remembering. Just a few shots, won't take long."

I was about to refuse again when Daniel spoke.

"May we have a moment to consider?" His tone remained courteous yet firm.

The photographer nodded immediately. "Of course, I'll be right here whenever you're ready."

Daniel turned toward me, leaning slightly closer so only I could hear.

"Would you mind accompanying me for one photo?" he asked quietly. "As a keepsake?"

I blinked, momentarily stunned.

*He wants to take photos?*

My heart gave a traitorous leap.

But I'd just declined the photographer's offer moments ago. If I suddenly acted enthusiastic now, wouldn't that seem... strange? Inconsistent?

I forced my expression to remain neutral, adopting what I hoped was a casual tone.

"Well," I said, "if you'd like to, then... I suppose we can take one."

*So casual. So unaffected.*

Daniel's lips curved into a small smile—gentle, knowing.

"Thank you," he said, gray eyes holding mine.

That subtle amusement in his expression, the way his gaze seemed to see straight through my carefully constructed composure—

Heat crept up my neck. I looked away quickly, pretending to adjust my handbag strap.

"It's nothing," I muttered.

Five minutes later, we stood before City Hall's entrance steps while the photographer fussed with his camera angle.

My hands hung stiffly at my sides, completely unsure how to pose. Around us, other newlyweds embraced enthusiastically, kissing, striking various intimate poses.

And we—

We stood like strangers, and looked constrained, awkward.

*Nothing like newlyweds should look.*

"Relax!" the photographer called out. "You're newlyweds! Look happy!"

*This is our first photo together.*

My heart hammered against my ribs. I tried to arrange my expression into something natural, but my face felt frozen, muscles taut with nervousness..

Daniel's hand suddenly brushed my lower back.

"May I?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, uncertain what he intended.

His arm curved around my waist, drawing me gently against his side. Not a tight embrace—a gentlemanly, proper position. His hand rested at my waist, our bodies barely touching directly, yet appearing sufficiently intimate.

"Look at the camera," the photographer directed. "Good, perfect. Groom, move a bit closer—yes, like that. Bride, relax your shoulders."

I tried following his instructions. Daniel's presence made me nervous, but simultaneously offered a strange sense of security.

"Perfect!" The photographer clicked the shutter several times, then gestured us over. "Come see."

The image on the screen stopped me cold.

*We look... good together.*

Daniel in his tailored suit, me in my cream dress—our heights complemented each other, our postures somehow aligned despite the initial awkwardness.

I glanced at Daniel beside me. His expression remained unreadable as he studied the photograph.

"Is it..." I started hesitantly, voice small. "Are you satisfied with it?"