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Till death we don’t part because even if we do die, our souls will continue to find each other.
We’re all seated in the—I haven’t figured out what to call this particular area of our home yet. It’s very on theme with the rest of the house, in the Renaissance era. The ceiling is constructed into one big circle that’s painted to look like the clouds in the sky. Angels with skull faces are flying toward it in an artistic flurry of movement.
The walls are plastered pillars, where the room dips in the steps lead down. There are six round tables carefully placed around the room, with a fountain of champagne in the center and the big eight-tier black and gold cake with artistically molded skulls sitting on the top. Biggie is playing through the speakers, and I’ve since changed out of the big gown-style dress and am now wearing a short black dress with feathers sewn into every inch. The skirt cuts off below my ass.
“Hey!” Tate bumps my hip with hers. “Some wedding…”
I laugh into my flute. “Yes, some wedding.”
“The twins are with the nanny, rested and asleep.”
“They’re the best babies ever.” Just as she’s about to say something else, Nate covers my eyes from behind me.
I smile against his hand, placing mine on top of his.
He kisses my forehead when I finally turn to him. “The most beautiful bride. Just don’t tell Tillie.”
“Well, technically, she hasn’t been a bride, so I doubt she will be mad.”
“Ehhh…” His face contorts. “It’s Tillie.”
“True.” I chuckle, turning back around to face the crowd. Our families, best friends. Every single person who means something to Bishop and me is in this room right now.
Bishop’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me into his chest. “Come, let’s go check on our babies.” He leaves his empty glass on a table and my hand slips into his as he leads us out the side doors and around the corner of the family room toward the grand stairs.
“Bishop! We have guests!”
“Psshh!” He climbs the stairs two at a time and I follow closely behind him, feeling a little guilty for leaving everyone. “They’re all drunk and mingling. It will do them all good since they either hate or love each other in that room.”
We make our way down the hallway and through to the private wing where the twins’ rooms are. The nanny sees us approach and turns the TV down in the sitting room.
“Hey, you two! You should be out there enjoying yourselves!”
“We will,” Bishop answers smoothly. “But first, I just need to see my children.”
The nanny smiles gently at us as Bishop continues to drag me into their joint room.
I mouth a quick sorry to her before I close the door gently behind us, not wanting to wake either of them up. Despite whatever plan Bishop has right now, if he wakes the twins, I’m throwing hands.
Their room is the master bedroom in this wing, but won’t be their bedroom once they get a bit bigger. We didn’t want to be cliché and buy half pink and half blue, because Halen is my daughter, and I hate pink. I also don’t think colors should be gender exclusive, and Bishop agreed, so we went with a more modern take and did gray and white. Both cribs are in the middle of the room, with nets covering each one, and the entire back wall is curved with windows overlooking the side of the house. White curtains brush the plush carpet, and a single fireplace is against the opposite wall. There’s a small basketball hoop, and a racetrack already built in here, ready for them to grow into. No dollhouses. I mean, if she wants that, we will get one.
“Look at what we created.” I’m looking down at both of their sleeping faces when I feel him behind me, caging me in with both of his hands on either side of me.
My heart warms and a rush of heat blossoms deep in my chest. “They’re so perfect.”
“Right now, yes. But you do realize—”
“—I know.” I pat both of their tiny bodies. “I know.”
Bishop kisses the nape of my neck. “I’m sorry I failed you all those months ago.”
“—Bishop, I—”
“Shut up and listen to me, Madison. You telling me that shit while you were in labor didn’t just break my heart, it fucking shattered it. It broke all of me. I’ll never fail you again, and God help anyone who does.”
I finally turn in his grip, his chest brushing against mine. Running my finger over the swan tattoo on his neck, I tell him, “I love you.”
He kisses me, his lips soft and tongue warm. “I more than love you.”
We both laugh quietly into each other’s mouths. Bishop Vincent Hayes.
Ruler of our old school.
Now King of the outlaws.
