Because love didn’t always arrive when you wanted it. It didn’t always look like what you’d dreamed. But when it was real—when it was forged in fire, sealed in blood, and held together with the kind of devotion that could silence an army?—
You said yes.
You said forever.
And you never looked back.
But forever could wait five minutes.
Because the moment the last lantern floated skyward, the moment the crowd began to shift toward dessert tables and after-parties, Silas leaned down, lips brushing my ear.
“Let’s disappear.”
I raised a brow. “You mean sneak off?”
His smirk was sin incarnate. “We’ve had practice.”
I laughed—low and giddy, heat blooming under my skin. “People are definitely onto us by now.”
He took my hand anyway.
Led me past the catering staff, past the hydrangea hedges and the winding garden path and into the shadows of the greenhouse. The glass panes shimmered in the moonlight, fractured beams spilling across the floor.
He pushed me gently inside, then clicked the door shut behind him.
“This is where we’re doing it?” I whispered, the thrill already thudding between my legs.
His eyes swept over me—hungry, reverent. “This is the first time I get to touch you as my wife,” he said, voice rough with awe. “That makes it different.”
I swallowed hard, every nerve lit. “Everything’s different now.”
His mouth curved into something soft, almost stunned. “No more pretending. No more sneaking around.”
I nodded, breath hitching. “No more maybe.”
He stepped closer, hands sliding to my waist. “Just us. All in. Forever.”
And when he kissed me—slow, deep, claiming—I knew this wasn’t just another stolen moment.
This was the first of a thousand beginnings.
The first time I gave myself to him, not as a secret.
But as his.
As Mrs. Dane.
He backed me into a worktable, cleared it with a sweep of his arm. A rustle of broken leaves, a thunk of pots crashing to the floor. He didn’t even blink.
And I didn’t care.
Because when his hands found the back of my dress and began unfastening the buttons with soldier precision and lover patience, I felt like I might combust.
“You wore this for me,” he murmured, brushing the fabric from my shoulders.
“Who else?” I said, breathless, arching into his touch as the dress slipped down and pooled around my feet.
He stepped back for a second—just to look.
