I spot my dad, standing near one of the banquet tables, drink in hand, pretending he’s fine. He’s not. His jaw keeps flexing the same way it did when he took me to the airport before I flew to England.
He walks over to us and pulls me into a hug that reminds me I’ll always be his little girl. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
“You cried,” I whisper back.
“Impossible. Sea spray.”
“Sure, Dad.”
Knox doesn’t leave my side when he reaches out to shake his hand. “Thank you.”
Dad squeezes his shoulder. “Welcome to the family, son. And by the way…” He lowers his voice. “Your mother’s still as beautiful as she was when I met her last Christmas, right after the Everett Hill deal closed. Guess I can see where you get your looks.”
I choke on a laugh as Knox pinches the bridge of his nose.
Mercifully, before Knox or my dad can say something equally horrifying, a familiar trio descends.
Millie, Margo, and Elena appear in a cloud of perfume and high-volume commentary, in their matching bridesmaid dresses.
“Best wedding ever!”
“Cami, sweetheart, your dress is a public service announcement!”
“Knox, you handsome devil, you made half the ship thirsty!”
“Enough chit-chat,” Millie declares, clapping twice like she owns the cruise line. Maybe she does. “It’s time.”
“For what?” I ask even though I know.
“Your first dance, of course,” Millie crows.
The band sees her signal and shifts effortlessly into an upbeat, modern, jazzy melody calledLover Girl, a song Knox and I picked months ago, back when “husband” was still a future-tense word lodged somewhere between hope and disbelief.
Knox laces our fingers again, his thumb brushing my new ring. “Ready?”
My heart squeezes. “More than ready.”
Knox spins me under the string lights, his hand steady on mine, the sea humming quietly beneath us like it knows how this ends. He pulls me close again, palm warm against the small of my back, and I melt into the rhythm.
I glance over his shoulder, and a giggle bubbles free. “Did you see the way my dad looked at your mom?”
Knox groans under his breath. “Jesus. They cannot get together. Can you imagine?”
“Oh, I’ve imagined,” I say, smirking as he guides me into another turn. “And if they do, our love story will have survived enough romance tropes to fill a bookshelf.”
He raises a brow. “Grumpy/sunshine-ish.”
“Next-door neighbors,” I add.
“Summer fling.” He dips me, the cocky bastard, and I squeal just a little before laughing into his chest.
“Age gap,” I mutter, breathless as he brings me back against him.
Knox grins, wicked and sexy all at once. “He falls first.”
“Forced proximity,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Off-limits,” he adds, his thumb brushing the base of my spine in a way that still makes my pulse stutter.
