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The little man looks grumpy. His huge green eyes rove from side to side, utterly unimpressed with everything and everyone he sees.
Luckily, Wren doesn’t have to carry him for long, because Aleks walks up and takes the baby and her arm in one motion.
I’ll admit, I actually get a little choked up watching him walk her down the aisle. I had no idea he was going to do it.
“Did you know about that?” I mutter to Bee.
“Yup. Fitting, don’t you think?” She smiles. “And look at that baby! Isn’t he just a little heartthrob in his tux?”
As Aleks and Wren approach the altar, Syrah comes forward to take her turn with Mischa. My brother kisses Wren’s cheek and retreats to his place in line while the music crescendos and Wren takes the first of the steps up to where she belongs—right in front of me.
She fought the idea of this wedding initially. “We’re already married. Who needs another ceremony?”
But I wore her down. I thought I’d never feel complete if I didn’t get to see her like this one more time.
Pure. Perfect. Beautiful.
And the look in her eyes says it was the right choice. She dispensed with the veil and her face is clear. I’ve never loved anything more.
Aleks clears his throat as he takes the mic. He’s pulling triple duty today: best man, bridal escort, and now, officiant. I’m sure he’ll bitch about the workload for months to come.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate Wren and Dmitri. I was there at the beginning of their strange, non-traditional courtship and, lemme tell ya, it was a doozy.” Wren bursts out laughing and his grin spreads as he continues. “They went through a lot those first few months. More than most people go through in a lifetime—and yet somehow, they found each other at the end of it. They found love and friendship; they found mutual respect and trust. I can’t think of any two people more suited for one another. And to all the powers that brought them together—” Aleks makes a show of looking up at the sky with a wrinkled frown. “—nice job. But also… twisted.”
I shake my head at my brother, who gives me a little wink in return. He launches into a more traditional speech about life and love and I find myself tuning him out. Who could pay attention to anything like that when you’re staring at a goddess?
Wren blushes prettily in front of me, then mouths shyly, You look very handsome.
I wink back at her and she flushes an even deeper shade of scarlet. Aleks wraps up his part and passes Wren the mic for her vows.
“Dmitri,” Wren starts, holding both my hands tightly, “I had about five months to think about what I wanted to say to you today—unlike the first time, when I had, like, five hours. And when you have that much time to think about vows, you find yourself going back to the beginning. You find yourself thinking through every moment you’ve shared together.” She takes a deep breath. “We have been through so, so much. We’ve overcome so, so much. There were times I didn’t think we’d make it and days when I thought we were all wrong for one another. But time and time again, you proved me wrong. You fought for me. You cared for me. You protected me. And I’ve never had that in my life before I met you. So my vow to you today is this: I know marriage is hard and life is harder. So no matter what comes our way, I promise to keep forgiving you; I promise to keep loving you. For the rest of our lives.”
Aleks chuckles as he hands me the microphone. “Good luck beating that, bro.”
I lace my fingers through Wren’s. “Moya devushka, you are my queen, my goddess, the music in my life. I wasn’t aware my world was so dark until you stepped into it and brought the sun with you. I didn’t know what I was missing until you gave me a son, a family. And for that, I will always be grateful. You are my equal in every way. I will always protect you and I will always love you. From this day until my dying day.”
She sucks in a breath as I finish and a few stray tears slip from her kohl-rimmed eyes. We don’t bother waiting for Aleks to give us the green light—I just yank her into my arms and kiss her like it’s the first time all over again.
We come together, sealing our promises in the heat of that kiss. And when we break away, it’s to the cacophony of the hollering crowd who’ve flown all this way to bear witness to our second wedding. Some faces, I’d always expected to be here: Rogan and her family, my vors. Others are more surprising, like the Italians who swore loyalty to Bee after Vittorio was dethroned. And Cian, of course.
It’s an interesting group, a curious amalgam of what we’ve managed to create in the last six months. It’s proof that peace is possible under the right circumstances, with the right people at the helm. It’s a perfect metaphor for this life we’ve built.
Tangled and twisted and gnarled and fucked up beyond all recognition more often than not.
But beautiful.
So beautiful it hurts.
EPILOGUE II: WREN
TWO YEARS LATER
“… so I’d like you all to raise your glasses to our new Director of Design at Egorov Industries: Mrs. Wren Egorov!”
I hide my face behind my glass of apple juice as my colleagues start cheering loudly to Syrah’s toast in honor of my promotion. I’ve been actively resisting any kind of celebration since the news broke. My first instinct was, of course, I don’t deserve it.
My second thought was, They can’t promote me; I’m the boss’s wife.
But when I look past the unavoidable facts of my position in this company, I have to admit: I do deserve to be here.
