“No.” His voice is rough. Certain. “But I can’t do it this way.”
The bottom falls out of my stomach. I grip the skirt of my dress to steady myself. “Wh- what do you mean?”
He steps closer, big hands curling at his sides like he's holding himself back from touching me. “I can’t pretend this is fake anymore.”
I blink. My heart somersaults. “Heath?—”
“This started as a deal,” he says, voice low and wrecked, “but it hasn’t been fake since the first damn day.”
Everything inside me tilts, trembles, and melts.
“I wasn’t looking for love.” His breath shudders. “But I found it anyway. I love you, Sienna.”
The world goes quiet. Holy-quiet. Heart-stopping, breath-stealing quiet.
He looks at me like I’m the only person who exists.
“I want to be your real husband,” he says hoarsely. “Not the one in a contract. Not the one you pretend with. Yours. For real.” He inhales as if the next words cost him everything. “But if you’re not ready, I’ll wait. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn you.”
Tears burn hot behind my eyes. “What about your inheritance?”
He shakes his head. “Screw it. Your love is worth more than my revenge.”
A breath punches out of me. I don’t think. I just move, stepping into him, clutching his lapels like I might fly away if I don’t hold on.
“I’m ready,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I love you, too.”
He lets out a sound—part relief, part curse, part something so raw that it makes my knees tremble.
Then his mouth is on mine.
It’s not slow. It’s not gentle. It’s everything. Hands fisting in satin, lips urgent, breath shared. His forehead presses to mine, his voice shaking.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yes,” I breathe, smiling through tears. “Yours.”
A throat clears aggressively behind us.
Jem.
She’s glaring, hands on her hips, veil in one hand like a threatening prop. I don’t even remember the veil falling off; I was so absorbed in my soon-to-be husband.
“Absolutely not. That goes on pause until you’re legally bound. I did not spend forty minutes steaming that veil for you to wrinkle the dress before the aisle,” she says, all affronted maid of honor bossiness.
Heath emits a growl as he forces himself to step back. I sway a little; he steadies me with one last soft brush of his fingers against my cheek.
“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” he murmurs, voice thick.
“Yes,” I breathe. “You will.”
He leaves reluctantly, glancing back twice before disappearing down the hall.
As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Jem, my face splitting into a smile so big it actually hurts.
“He loves me,” I whisper, stunned and glowing. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
Jem wipes her eyes likeshe’sthe bride. “Damn straight it is.”
