Roman appears, drink in hand, skin noticeably darker from what must have been two weeks in tropical paradise. "Harper! Congratulations on the reception you didn't know you were having!"
"When did you get back from Thailand?"
"This morning. We're both completely destroyed from jet lag, but Babushka said it was a 'family obligation.'" He grins, the smile reaching all the way to his eyes. "And honestly? Worth it. You should see the photos. Calli got scuba certified. I got sunburned in places I didn't know could get sunburned. It was perfect."
Calli appears next to him, also gorgeously tan, her dark hair lightened slightly from the sun, wearing a sundress that somehow works despite it being twenty-three degrees outside. She pulls me into a hug that smells like coconut sunscreen and happiness. "I'm so happy for you both. And I'm sorry about the surprise. I tried to warn you, but Babushka said it would 'ruin magic.'"
"The magic of giving me a heart attack?"
"Exactly." She laughs, a warm sound that makes me smile. "But seriously—this is amazing. Your family really pulled this off.”
And speaking of family…
My mother appears, looking radiant in a burgundy dress with her hair done up, pearl earrings catching the light. She's been crying—I can tell by the slight redness around her eyes—but she's smiling so wide it looks like it might hurt. "Ma chérie! You're here! We were worried you'd be late."
Victor steps away, still chatting up Roman and Calli, as she pulls me to the side.
"Mom.” I grasp her hands tighter. “What is this?"
"This is your wedding reception!" She gestures around the room like a game show host revealing a prize. "You got married in Vegas at a video game chapel, and then you got engaged again in a hotel room—Victor told us everything—so we thought you deserved a proper celebration!" She gestures around the room, at all the people, all the decorations, all the love that went into this.
"How's Dad doing?" I ask, suddenly aware I haven't talked to him yet in the chaos.
Mom's face softens. "He's having a good day. The new nurse—Carole, the one Victor arranged—she's been wonderful. Twice a week visits, and she's been helping with the physical therapy exercises. Your father actually walked from the car to the house without his walker today."
My throat tightens. "Really?"
"Really. He's very proud of himself. And very grateful to Victor for—well. For everything." She squeezes my hand. "That man of yours is a keeper, Harper. Don't let him go."
"I won't."
Dad appears then, moving slower than he used to but steadier than he's been in months. His smile is huge when he sees me.
"There's my girl!" He pulls me into a hug. "Married to a billionaire who can actually play pickleball. I'm impressed."
"Victor plays pickleball?"
"Came to the club with me last week before you two left for Quebec. Decent form. Needs work on his backhand, but he's coachable." He leans in conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling. "Also, your ex-husband made a fool of himself at the club yesterday. Broke his racket after losing to some kid half his age. Then stormed off when people kept asking him about 'his ex-wife the famous cooking show host married to the handsome billionaire CEO.'"
I bite back a smile. "Is that so?"
"Karma's a beautiful thing, sweetheart. Thomas had the whole club talking. Broke his favorite racket—the expensive carbon fiber one he was always bragging about—then tried to storm off, but his shoelace was untied and he tripped over it on his way to the parking lot." Dad's clearly enjoying this story. "And Alanna? Heard she's moved on to someone else already. Some guy from the league. Third affair in six months, apparently."
"Dad—"
"What? You asked." He kisses my forehead. "Now where's that husband of yours? I need to tell him about his footwork. And his serve needs work. We're scheduled for another game next week."
"You scheduled another pickleball game?"
"Of course. Can't let him get rusty. Besides, he needs proper instruction if he's going to join the club officially."
I inhale deeply, trying not to hyperventilate at all the change happening around me.
And two minutes alter, Victor finds me by the dessert table, where I'm stress-eating a cannoli.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I'm great. Overwhelmed, but great." I take another bite. "Did my dad corner you about pickleball?"
