“Husband privilege.”
He went completely still.
The word had not even become true yet, and it had already reached somewhere deep in him.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
“Later.”
“Noah.”
I smiled and opened the door.
Marian stood outside wearing a dark red suit, a headset over one ear, and the expression of a woman who had successfully organized a wedding for two men determined to avoid being organized.
Behind her, Leah leaned against the hall wall in a soft blue dress.
Emma and Clara stood on either side of her, both taller than they had been at the start of my recovery and both pretending not to cry.
Marlowe sat in the center of the hallway wearing a green ribbon around his collar and looking offended by formalwear.
Leah looked from me to Reid.
“Oh.”
Her hand rose to her mouth.
“What?” I asked.
“You look…”
“Dangerous,” Reid supplied.
Leah blinked away tears.
“I was going to say happy.”
“I’m also that.”
She crossed the hallway and hugged me.
Not gently because I was injured.
Not cautiously because I might break.
The hug of a sister who had spent two years relearning when to worry and when to let me be.
“You’re really doing it,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“I thought I’d cry later.”
“You began at breakfast.”
“That was allergies.”
“In November?”
