A/N: I appreciate all of the reviews I receive. Please keep reviewing. I don't own what you recognize.

In mid-October, Mark Williamson raised a concern that neither George nor I had ever really considered. "What will you two if Paul ever comes back and wants access to the baby?"

"George's name will be on the birth certificate and she will have his last name. We'll be fine."

"Emma," Mark replied gently. "The baby will still have Paul's DNA."

"Well, I can't change that."

"No, but you can marry George."

"Would that make a difference?" I asked as I tried to make myself comfortable in my chair. We were sitting in my office talking in between classes on a Thursday in mid-October.

He nodded. "If paternity is in question, it's easier to protect the father's rights if the parents were legally married at the time of birth."

I took a deep breath. " I suppose George and I could just get married at the JP one afternoon. I'd have to talk to him about it first though. And I still want a big, fancy wedding in the summer when I'm not enormously pregnant."

Mark laughed. "Of course, we can't let your wedding planning Pinterest board go to waste, now can we?"

I smiled and blushed. "I want my wedding day to mean something more than a piece of paper, Mark. But I also want to make sure that my baby is safe from Paul."

"Then marry George."

George, to my surprise, didn't protest the idea of getting married in October. He seemed rather nonchalant about the whole thing, if I am being entirely honest. "We'll get married sooner and it'll be better for Baby," he said. "It's fine with me."

"Are you sure about this?"

He shrugged as if getting married was no big deal. "It's not as if we're not already having a baby together. How much of a difference can a piece of paper make?"

"So we'll get married?"

"Sure, next Thursday if you like," he replied.

"I teach all afternoon on Thursday," I said. "How does Friday work for you?"

He pulled out his phone and looked at it for a few moments. "I'm free. Do you want me to see if Mark can be our witness?"

"Tell him to bring Betsy and Natalie with him," I replied. "And then we can go out for dinner or something."

"Don't you have a doctor's appointment that day?"

"At one," I confirmed after checking my phone.
"Then we'll shoot for a four o'clock wedding?"

"Sounds good to me," I replied.

On Friday, October 26, 2012, I taught my lecture session of British Literature, Part One. Then, I had a quick lunch with George at Panera before heading to my doctor's office. "You're three weeks from your due date," she said. "But if things continue as they are currently going, I want to induce you in the next two weeks, probably two weeks from today."

"May I ask why?" George asked.

"It appears that the baby currently weighs almost nine pounds," Dr. Fulton replied. "If I let Emma continue to go, the baby could hit ten pounds or even beyond and I don't want to see that happen."

"Nine pounds?" I said. "I have to push a nine-pound baby out of my body?"

Dr. Fulton nodded. "She's a big baby, which isn't surprising given her parents."

George squeezed my hand. "You can do it, Emma. You'll be great."

I rolled my eyes. "Dr. Fulton, if you want to induce me on Monday, I'll give you my full blessing."

The doctor smiled. "We'll continue to monitor you, but I don't think we'll be inducing you on Monday."

"Next Friday?" I suggested. "I'm ready to not be pregnant anymore. And I'm full-term technically."

She patted my belly. "We'll see how the next week goes."

I rested my hands protectively on my belly. The only person I wanted touching it was George. "What about my weight? Are you concerned about that?"

Dr. Fulton took a deep breath, which made George raise his eyebrows and squeeze my hand. I knew that he didn't like her. He thought she was too medical and not personal enough. The doctor looked first at my records on the computer and then back at my figure. "You've only gained forty-five points since your last physical in January. You haven't developed gestational diabetes. The baby is a big baby. And with your age and your activity level, I don't think that it'll be too hard for you to lose the extra weight."

"And I will be breast-feeding," I added. "So while that's not my primary motive, it should help with weight loss too."

The doctor pressed her lips together and nodded. "Are you concerned about your weight, Emma?"

"I feel fat," I said. "And I've felt that way since the middle of the second trimester."

"This is the first time you've mentioned this to me."

"This is the first time you've asked her about it," George said grimly. "She's been concerned about her weight for months."

"I wish you'd said something sooner," the doctor replied, patting my great belly again. "Yes, you've gained forty-five pounds and will gain a bit more in the next few weeks, but I'm not worried about it. You're well within the bounds of reasonable gain."

I nodded, rubbing my belly protectively.

"Now do you have any other concerns?"

I shook my head, still rubbing my belly. "I'm just ready to get her out of me. I'm not sure I'm quite ready for motherhood, but I'm ready to be able to see my feet again and to go more than an hour without visiting the restroom."

George smiled. "You still won't be sleeping through the night though."

I laughed. "George, I'd rather be getting up with the baby than getting up to go to the bathroom and then drink more water."

Dr. Fulton nodded. "Most moms feel that way by this point in gestation. Now, if you have no further questions, I'll see you next Friday."

"I still think I'm fat," I told George as we made our way to the car. "And I know that I waddle."

"Emma," he sighed. "Emma Clare Woodhouse, shut up and marry me please."

"Well that's a romantic proposal," I replied.

"Emma Clare, this is not exactly a marriage born out of boundless love. Also, you're the one who proposed to me. Now let's go get married."

So we got married. It didn't change anything in our relationship. It was just a piece of paper that said that George was my husband and I was his wife. We didn't even kiss at the end of the ceremony, which the judge seemed to think was odd, but I was eight and a half months pregnant and didn't feel like kissing anyone.

"So we're married," George remarked casually as we walked towards the car.

I nodded as I put the marriage license into my purse. "I'm Mrs. George Knightley."

He snorted. "Emma Clare, you're still Dr. Emma Woodhouse."

"But we're legally married. Don't you want me to change my last name or something so people know?"

"Em, I don't need you to change your last name. The baby's last name will be Knightley. My last name is Knightley. If you want to change your last name, that's fine, but I'm not going to force you."

"Maybe after the baby is born," I said as I climbed into the car. "I need to think about it. I mean, this is a marriage of convenience, not a love match. I have to figure out the rules of this."

"We have to figure out the rules," George said firmly. "And we'll do that as we go along. Don't worry. We've got each other for good."

"For good," I repeated.

George looked at me and smiled. "You're my best friend, Emma Clare. I love you. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here until death parts us."

"You love me," I said flatly.

"Well, yeah, you're my best friend. I've known you since you were a baby. You're my roommate. We talk about pretty much everything. We're going to raise a baby together. We got married for the baby and because we've had a marriage pact together for the past few years. Of course I love you."

"George, you love me romantically, like truly, madly, deeply kind of love. And I don't know if I can handle that. I don't know if I love you like that. I've got all these pregnancy hormones," I explained.

George sighed. "Em, you've been using the stupid pregnancy hormones as an excuse since August, but here's the thing that I've noticed. Pregnancy hormones don't change your personality. It's not a personality transplant. You're still you. So I think either you love me or you don't. Now, we're married now. We're going to raise this baby together. And I love you. I don't need to know right now if you return those feelings, but I need you to start thinking about them because I can't spend the rest of my life married to someone who doesn't love me like I love her."

I looked at him. I think it might have been the first time in my life that I had really looked at him. Long, thin face-a face so dear and beloved to me that words couldn't describe how I felt when I saw that face. A long bony nose, average lips and ears, lovely blond hair, fair English skin; George was a handsome man but probably one who wouldn't be considered extraordinary by most people.

But then there were his green-gray eyes, eyes that were intense and lovely; they reminded me of soulful marble. I don't know if that makes sense, but that's how I saw them. They were looking at me with more feeling, more intensity than I had ever seen there before. Those eyes told me that this man loved me.

And my heart told me that I was in deep trouble because I was falling for him. I was pretty certain that I was falling in love with my husband. And I had come to this startling realization on my wedding day. Weird, very weird, I tell you.

A/N: Please review!