Page 48

He nods and disappears.

The women surround me. Each of them touching my shoulder, squeezing my hand or just being present in that way women are for each other during important moments.

"You've got this," Eden says firmly.

"We're all right here," Rosie adds.

"And if anyone objects during the ceremony, we'll handle them," Riley promises with a dangerous smile.

I laugh. Can't help it. These women, who were strangers two years ago, have become my sisters. My family. The people I trust with everything.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For everything. For accepting me. For protecting me. For making me part of this family."

"You were always part of this family," Nora says. "From the moment Gabriel brought you to the clubhouse, you were ours."

Hannah nods. "That's how it works. You love one of our brothers, you become our sister. No exceptions."

"And we take care of our own," June adds.

Another knock. This time it's my father. He opens the door slowly, looking uncomfortable in his expensive suit among all these women in their blue dresses.

"Paige," he says stiffly. "They're ready for us."

"Give us one more minute, Dad."

He nods and steps back outside.

The women file out one by one. Each of them hugging me or squeezing my hand as they pass. Grace, Mariah, and Luna go last, giggling and clutching their flower baskets.

Then it's just me.

I take one last look in the mirror. This is it. This is the moment where everything I was becomes everything I'm going to be.

Mrs. Gabriel Stone. Wife. Future mother. Artist. Woman who survived and rebuilt and found love in the most unexpected place.

I open the door. My father is waiting in the hallway, looking older than I remember. Tired. Like the last two years have aged him more than they should have.

"You look beautiful," he says.

"Thank you."

He offers his arm, and I take it. We walk toward the sanctuary entrance where music is already playing softly.

"Paige," he says as we reach the doors. "I know I haven't been supportive. I know your mother and I have said things we shouldn't have. But I want you to know—" He pauses. Struggles with the words. "I can see that he makes you happy. That's all I ever wanted for you. To be happy."

My throat tightens. "Thank you, Dad."

"And for what it's worth, I'm proud of you. For finishing your degree. For building your career. For choosing your own path even when we tried to push you toward ours."

Tears prick my eyes. "Dad…"

"Don't cry," he says quickly. "Your mother will blame me if your makeup is ruined."

I laugh wetly. "Okay. No crying. Yet."

The music changes. The wedding march begins.

The doors open.