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Heat sears my cheeks. “You’re making me blush,” I mutter.
“Not saying anything I don’t mean.”
“I know you do.” I reach forward and cup his cheek where his five o’clock shadow is already showing. And he shaved this morning. I know because I perched on the counter next to the sink as he ran his razor over his cheeks. It was so intimate and, weirdly, domestic. He touched his foam-covered finger to my nose, and I giggled. Then, he decided to give up all pretense of shaving and kissed me until I was wearing half of the foam on my face. Needless to say, it dissolved into him slowly making love to me, right against the counter. And when we finished, he had to start shaving all over again. Then, he had to scramble to make his appointment.
He met with the television network where he’ll take on his role as a commentator for the upcoming cricket matches. That he gave up an active sports career so he can spend time with me… Well, that’s the biggest grand gesture of all. Sometimes, it’s about what someone does without telling you, instead of what they do for you to your face, know what I mean?
“I love you, baby.” He leans in and brushes his lips over mine. I part my lips, his tongue slides in, and he—
“Okay, bye, ignore me.”
I giggle into his mouth, and his lips curve over mine.
“Wait—" I manage to break the kiss long enough to call after Solene, “You’re going to be my maid of honor, right?”
EPILOGUE
Cade
Abby opted for a simple ceremony with only our close friends in attendance. We decided to hold it in Sinclair Sterling’s spectacular back garden, which he loaned us for the occasion. With views over Primrose Hill and the London skyline in the distance, the backdrop compliments the feeling of breathlessness residing in my lungs.
I glance about the spacious conservatory, taking in the assembled guests. Zara and Hunter were the first to arrive. Or rather, their security was. They did a clean sweep of the place, then positioned themselves around the perimeter. It’s a testament to Sinclair and Summer being invested enough in my relationship with Abby that he didn’t protest or seem pissed about it. On their heels were JJ and his girlfriend Lena, who’re seated in an armchair in a corner of the room. To be clear, JJ is seated in an armchair and Lena is seated on JJ. Both of them have their arms about each other and are grinning at each other in a way with which I’m becoming quite familiar, considering I often catch myself wearing that particular infatuated expression on my face.
Michael Sovrano is standing next to Karma, who’s seated in the nearby settee. She’s rocking their little boy in her arms. Isla is seated next to her, with Liam standing behind her. He’s holding onto their Great Dane Tiny, who’s straining at his leash. Behind them are Weston and Amelia, who’s speaking to Ava.
I met her husband Baron for the first time earlier today. He was deep in conversation with Edward Chase, who agreed to officiate our wedding. I overheard Baron tell Edward that Ava’s pregnant with their child. Edward stiffened before his face broke out into a genuine smile. He thumped Baron on the back, and the two men hugged. It reminded me so much of my friendship with Knight. And now we’re going to be family.
Abby and I FaceTimed with Knight, who told us his mission is delayed. He’s waiting for orders to come through, and not sure when he’ll get leave to return. He told us he’d never forgive us if we waited for him to arrive before proceeding with the wedding. He didn’t want us to put our lives on hold, not when we waited so long to find our way to each other. Neither Abby nor I wanted to go ahead without him. I wanted Knight to be my best man, and Abby wanted him to give her away, but Knight wouldn’t hear of it. He made us promise not to wait. He assured us the first opportunity he gets, he’ll be home. We reluctantly decided to go ahead, but only because he was so persistent.
For the most part, we kept the news of our wedding a secret. Unlike our engagement, which had been a media circus, there’s not one news person in attendance today. Sinclair and Summer were crucial to our plan of keeping the marriage secret. They offered to invite our friends on our behalf, pretending the event was a party.
It was only after the group drifted into the back garden and noticed the chairs which had been set up, complete with a flower-strewn path in between and a vine-covered arch at the front, that they had an inkling something was up. Suddenly, they understood why Abby had been missing throughout the evening, along with Solene, Penny and Mira, her bridesmaids.
Everyone had been told to come dressed informally, which is why now, as Mira steps onto the flower-strewn path, she’s wearing jeans and a pullover. She’s also holding a spray of pink roses. As she walks up the path, she winks at me, then stands to the side. She’s followed by Penny, who’s wearing a jumpsuit and holding a spray of yellow roses. And then Solene, who’s dressed in Doc Martins, fishnet stockings, a leather skirt, and a bustier. She looks every inch the emo pop star, right down to the blue roses in her hands.
I sense Declan tense as Solene walks up the aisle. She gives me a little wave, then glances away—pointedly, not looking at Declan. He swears low under his breath.
"Everything okay, ol’ chap?" I murmur.
"Just peachy," he growls back.
"Have you spoken to Solene since she got in?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you need to sit down and have an actual conversation with her." Just then, Abby steps onto the aisle, and all other thoughts go flying from my head.
She’s wearing a simple white dress that molds to her curves and flows to her feet. The lace collar is high, and the material continues down her arms, ending in lacy cuffs. She’s wearing her hair down, a fresh flower halo around her head, and holds a bouquet of white roses in front of her. Her cheeks are flushed, her green eyes sparkling up at me, and as she moves closer, my heart seems to swell until it’s too big to fit in my body. I reach over, draw her in, then kiss her forehead.
"Save it for after the wedding," one of our friends shouts.
Behind me, Declan chuckles, and the officiant clears his throat.
"Are you ready to proceed?" Edward’s gravelly voice asks.
I press kisses over each of her eyelids, then her nose, then each cheek, and finally, her chin before I step back. "NowI’m ready."
He laughs a little, then proceeds to read the necessary words. The entire time, Abby and I hold hands, and if I smile so much that my face muscles ache, that’s not my fault. It’s not every day that the girl I first saw when I was a teenager and who I’d lost all hope of making mine, slips a wedding band on my finger. I, in turn, slide the platinum band next to the matching engagement ring she wears.
