“Stop downplaying it.” I give him a kiss. “Julian, you may be the hottest, most generous vampire who ever lived, but you really need to go shower. You smell like ocean and existential crisis.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“I’m an influencer. Oddly specific is my brand.”
For the next six hours, I’m giving my followers tons of posts to enjoy: showing off my bridesmaid dress, photos of the groomsmen, and I livestream my make-up being put on by a professional.
Now, I’m standing in the bridal suite watching my sister have a meltdown about her veil.
“It’s crooked,” Violet says for the fourteenth time. “Look at it. It’s sitting wrong.”
“It’s sitting exactly the way it sat during the fitting,” I say. “It’s sitting the way veils have sat since the invention of veils.”
“But it’s crooked.”
“It’s not crooked.”
“It’s a little crooked,” Madison offers.
I shoot her a look that could curdle milk. She suddenly becomes very interested in her champagne.
“Vi.” I take my sister’s hands. Make her look at me. “The veil is perfect. Your dress is perfect. Your makeup is perfect. In two hours, you’re going to walk down that aisle and marry the man you love, and none of this is going to matter because you’ll be too happy to care about veil angles.”
Violet’s eyes well up. “When did you get so wise?”
“Somewhere between the rehearsal dinner and this morning.” I squeeze her hands. “You’re going to be amazing. I promise.”
“What if I trip?”
“Then I’ll trip, too, and we’ll go viral together. Think of the content.”
She laughs—tears welling up in her eyes. “I love you, Pops.”
“I love you, too.” I hug her carefully, mindful of the dress and the hair and the three hours of professional makeup. “Now let’s go get you married.”
The ceremony is everything a destination wedding should be.
A cascade of golden light washes over the cliff-side pavilion in the late afternoon. Beautiful flowers are everywhere—despite what my mom might say—their scent mixing with salt air. Fifty guests watch Chris as tears build up in his eyes—which he’ll probably blame on allergies or something. But I know he loves my sister, and it brings a smile to my face.
I stand at the front with the other bridesmaids, bouquet clutched in hands that have finally stopped shaking. My mother sits in the front row, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she probably monogrammed specifically for this occasion. Preston and Serenity are somewhere in the middle rows, but I don’t bother looking for them.
Because Julian is in the third row, aisle seat, watching me with an expression that makes my chest tight.
He’s cleaned up impossibly well—dark suit, crisp white shirt, looking like he stepped out of a magazine spread rather than asupernatural confrontation. When our eyes meet, he smiles. Just slightly. Just for me.
I smile back.
The music shifts. Everyone stands. And Violet appears at the end of the aisle, glowing like something out of a fairy tale.
She walks toward Chris like he’s the only person in the world. He watches her approach with the kind of love that makes my throat close up. When she reaches him, he whispers something that makes her laugh through her tears.
The officiant speaks. They exchange vows—beautiful, personal promises about choosing each other every day, about building a life together, about being partners through whatever comes.
“In good times and in bad,” Chris says. “In danger and in safety.”
My eyes find Julian’s. He’s already looking at me.
In danger and in safety.
