Page 173 of Offside Angle

He loops my arm more firmly through his and starts us toward the aisle.

For the first few steps, I keep my eyes fixed on the ground because I know myself, and if I look toward the front too early there is an excellent chance I’m going to cry, trip over my own shoes, or somehow manage both at once. I can hear the quiet shift of people turning toward us, the wind moving through the grass beyond the terrace, and someone in one of the rows making a soft little sound that absolutely does not help.

I make it maybe a third of the way down before curiosity wins and I finally look up.

And there he fucking is.

Viktor stands beneath the arch in a dark suit that should honestly require some kind of permit, broad shoulders framed by mountains and blue water like New Zealand itself has decided to be irritatingly dramatic for him. He looks calm, because of course he does, right until his eyes find mine and that slow, familiar smirk starts spreading across his face.

My knees immediately become decorative.

“Cuuuuuurls,” I whisper-whine, tightening my grip on Elias’s arm.

Elias is grinning so hard I can hear it in his voice. “I know.”

“This is horrible.”

“You’re getting married.”

“I know. Horrible.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Shut up.”

Viktor doesn’t look away once, not when I nearly miss a step because I’m too busy staring at him, not when Elias quietly laughs beside me, and not when I become increasingly aware that every person here can probably see exactly how completely gone I am for this man.

Fine. They should know.

By the time we reach the front, my heart is beating hard enough that I’m surprised it isn’t visible through my shirt. Elias finally releases my arm, but before stepping away he turns toward Viktor and leans in.

“Take care of him or I’m coming for you,” he whispers, just loud enough for the three of us to hear.

Viktor raises one eyebrow, the expression pure you are adorable if you believe that frightened me, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Then the smirk fades, and he gives Elias one serious nod.

“I will.”

Apparently that’s enough to make Elias’s face threaten to crumple again, which is when Damian saves all of us.

“Pup. Sit down.”

Elias turns and glares at him with wet eyes. “I was having a moment.”

“You’ve had seventeen.”

“Rude.”

“Sit.”

Elias flashes me one last watery grin before heading for the front row and dropping into the empty chair beside Mats.

Then I turn back toward Viktor, and without Elias beside me there’s suddenly nothing left to distract me from the fact that I am standing in front of the man I’m about to marry.

Viktor reaches for both of my hands, his warm and solid around mine in a way that makes everything inside me feel even less steady by comparison. I immediately start wiggling my toes inside my shoes because standing completely still has never been one of my particular talents, and expecting me to learn now, while Viktor Petrov is looking at me like that, seems deeply unreasonable.

His thumbs move slowly over my knuckles.

“Breathe, soroka,” he murmurs.