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“I just want you to be my husband. Legally,” she says. “I don’t want to wait. It’ll only give Nicole more opportunity to try and come between us.”
“How long did she give you?”
“A week. To sign the annulment and break up with you publicly.” She clings even more tightly.
“Look at me, baby.” I lift her chin. “I won’t let anyone come between us again. Not her. And not your brother. There is nothing they can do that we can’t fight.”
“I still want to marry you. I don’t want to wait to be your wife when I already feel like I am. Like I have been this whole time. We could do it here. With your brothers and Summer and Adira. He’s an officiant. He could officiate.”
“This is what you really want?” All I want is to be able to call her my wife. It doesn’t much matter how that happens. As long as it’s for real this time.
She smiles up at me. “I want to be your wife more than anything.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rogue
Thankstothehelpof my family and Adira the living room furniture has been reorganized, leaving an aisle down the middle of the room. Petals have been strewn on either side of a blue silk runner. Dozens of pillar candles have been turned into a backdrop along the windows. Their flickering flames reflect off the panes, casting a glow over everything.
I adjust the cufflinks on my shirt and straighten my suit sleeves with a tug before clasping my hands in front of me.
“Nervous?” Rebel asks, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Of course he is.” Riot claps a hand on my shoulder and smirks. "It’s not every day you hand over the key to your balls.”
I growl and push my arm into his chest as he tries to walk past me. “Say that again.”
“Easy, big man.” He laughs. “You know we’re happy for you. Love is a sweetheart.”
“She really is,” Rebel says, but his warm gaze is on Summer, his adoration and intentions clear on his face. Christmas should be fun—He showed me the ring he bought when I told him that I was marrying Ivy for real. The gorgeous red head is currently manning social media like it’s her job. Because it is. And the court case started today.
We were all there to support Ro. Except Ivy. She’s still dealing with the lingering effects of the stomach bug she came down with. Probably made worse by the stress of waiting for Nicole to retaliate, in addition to planning a wedding in just a few days. I didn’t want to make that worse by putting her in the same room as her bastard brother.
Slow and steady reintroduction to her trauma seems to be about what she can handle at this point, and as much as I’d like to see Alec punished for hurting her, I’m not willing to put her through the pain that would cause.
“Hey, assholes.” Riot stretches out the arm holding his phone and angles it until he has all three of us in the frame. “We look fine as hell. We should definitely take a picture for the fans.”
“Well, go on then,” Rebel says.
He glares at the screen, while I’m looking as nervous as I feel, and Riot is grinning like he doesn’t have a care in the world. The image freezes on the screen and Riot brings it closer so that he can tag it with #throwback and #bestmen. He captions it, “That time my brother got married, and we didn’t tell anyone…”
“That’s the only one today,” Rebel reminds us.
Summer was fairly strict about what we could post and when. Too many wedding related photos could make it obvious that the event isn’t a memory, but happening currently.
“Oh, this waiting is hard.” I give my leg a jiggle in an attempt to shake off some excess energy. Adira is currently helping Ivy finish getting ready. And even though I’ve seen her in her wedding dress twice… Ivy was adamant that I don’t see her prior to her walking up the aisle.
“Impatient fuck.” Rebel smirks.
“I can still cut you from the wedding party,” I clap back and then clap him on the shoulder. At some point I stopped being angry at him for his part in Ivy getting hurt. Stopped wanting to strangle him with my bare hands. Well, most of the time. It came from a good place. His heart. Even if what should be a normal sized organ seems more like a shriveled-up raisin most of the time. “You’re forgiven, by the way. As long as you don’t let me down again.”
His shoulders straighten and his gaze grows bright. He clears his throat.
Adira sweeps into the room in a floor-length black satin dress, long gloves, and a blonde wig. His hands are clasped around a leather folder as he glides up the aisle and takes his place behind us. “Sorry, we’re running a bit behind. She needed a quick pit stop in the bathroom.”
“Still sick?” I’m worried. It’s gone on too long. Tomorrow, I’ll call the doctor and demand she make a house call.
Adira nods. “Here we go.”
