He is the opposite of Preston. He is grinning, his tie is already loose, and he is radiating chaotic, golden retriever energy.
"Hi everyone!" Luke beams. "I’m Luke! I’m on the Groom’s side! Well, Jax’s side. Because Max scares me a little bit."
"Objection," Max murmurs.
"I was there for the stag night," Luke announces. "I won't give details, because there are lawyers present. But let’s just say it involved a Porsche, a very expensive pizza, and a medical emergency."
He turns to the crowd, gesturing wildly.
"I watched Jax save a guy’s leg on the side of the road usingmyGucci belt as a tourniquet," Luke says, pointing at himself. "A belt which I am still waiting to be reimbursed for, by the way. It was limited edition."
The crowd laughs.
"But seriously," Luke says, looking at me. "Jax, you’re an incredible surgeon. You’re a badass. And watching you find someone who looks at you the way Max does... it’s awesome.Truly."
Luke turns to Preston, who is sipping champagne and pretending to be bored.
"And," Luke adds, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I am really looking forward to officially calling you 'Brother' one day. You know. Whenwefinally tie the knot."
The room gasps. Preston chokes on his champagne. A violent, tomato-red blush spreads from his collar up to his hairline.
"Luke!" Preston hisses, visibly flustered for the first time in his life. "Sit down!"
"Just putting it out there!" Luke winks, raising his glass. "To the grooms! And to future weddings!"
He sits down, patting Preston on the back. Preston buries his face in his hands, shaking his head.
Then, the room goes quiet.
Catherine York stands up.
She has changed. The white wedding gown is gone. In its place, she is wearing a tasteful, modest navy gown. She looks smaller. Softer. She walks to the podium not with a march, but with a hesitant glide.
She grips the microphone. Her hands are shaking slightly.
"I..." she starts. She clears her throat. "I had a speech prepared. It was about legacy. It was about duty. It was written by my publicist."
She takes a piece of paper out of her clutch and tears it in half.
"But I don't think that’s appropriate today," Catherine says.
She looks at Max.
"Maxwell," she says. Her voice is steady, but fragile. "You look happy. That is... that is a variable I did not prioritize enough. I spent so much time trying to make you safe, I forgot to make you happy."
She turns to me. She looks me right in the eye.
"And... Jax," she says.
The name hangs in the air. She didn't say Jackson. She didn't say 'Jennifer'. She used my name.
"Thank you, Jax," she says softly. "Thank you for protectinghim. Even from me. Especially from me. You saw the man when I only saw the blueprint. And for that... I am grateful."
She raises her glass. It’s a peace offering.
"To my son," Catherine says. "And his husband. You don't need my permission, but... you have my blessing."
The room is stunned. Aunt Meredith drops her fork. Uncle Frederick looks like he swallowed a lemon.
