“I didn’t have marriage on the agenda today,” Nic replied, taking the bag from him.
Detaching herself from Aidan, Victoria stretched up on her toes to kiss Nic’s cheek. “Better pencil that in, sweetie.” She stepped back and handed him the leather binder full of his military medals. A binder she’d secretly sent to him when he’d earned his officer stripes.
He pulled her into a hug, even with his hands full. “I’m so glad you’re here.” So glad she and Garrett were in his life again and his sister, Lette, too. So glad they were all here for his wedding day.
“Me too.” She stepped back and wrinkled her nose playfully. “And Danny’s right. You need a shower.”
He didn’t doubt it.
“Is that his uniform in there?” Cam piped up, his voice colored with eager anticipation, a total one-eighty from the ire of a minute ago.
“Indeed it is,” Eddie said.
Nic caught his fiancé’s dark gaze—the good, heated kind—and for the first time in the past half hour, Nic remembered the tie around his cock and quickly shifted the hanging bag in front of him.
Thankfully, Mel’s sharp double clap drew everyone’s attention her direction. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Everyone’s attention except Cam’s. He drew alongside Nic on their way inside the house. “You better put that tie back on after your shower,” he whispered, reminding Nic of Cam’s earlier promise. “Counts as something blue. And you also better dance with me,” Cam added, reminding Nic of the promise he’d made to Cam when they’d gotten engaged.
A promise Nic looked forward to finally fulfilling tonight. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Cam’s ear. “Later, Boston.”
Cam nipped his jaw. “Sooner, Price.”
FIVE
Cam had worn a tux for Aidan and Jamie’s wedding, which, fittingly enough, had been the first time he’d kissed Nic. Two and a half years later, he begrudgingly donned the tails again. Small price to pay to marry the love of his life—finally—in front of their friends and family.
From his spot at the far end of the manor’s courtyard, Cam looked out over the rows of chairs filled with familiar faces. All of his family had flown in, a shock he’d received when he’d stepped out of the bathroom earlier to find his three brothers in the attached bedroom—Keith in his USMC uniform and Bobby and Quinn in dark suits. His mom and dad had been downstairs, trading recipes and stories with the Talleys, a whole lot of Irish going on.
Friends and coworkers from the FBI and USAO were also in attendance—AD Moore, Jack Hayward, Matty fucking Kim, the Admiral, Tony with Abby on his arm. Plus Nic’s family and all their friends. It seemed a miracle the trellis-covered courtyard held so many people and that so many people had shown up for his and Nic’s wedding. How had no one let the surprise leak? They were never going to hear the end of it from Lauren.
Music started from across the courtyard, beyond where Eddie stood on “Nic’s side.” Glancing that direction, Cam received another shock. Two chairs had been arranged to the side, and Lette sat in one, a guitar on her lap, her currently magenta hair pulled back. None of that was a shock. Cam had come to learn that Lette played multiple instruments and changed her hair color as often as Lauren repainted her nails. The shocking part was the person who’d claimed the seat beside her—Keith—who was also playing a guitar. Since when did his brother play? And so well?
Jamie’s elbow in his side snapped Cam out of his awe, and Aidan’s nod toward the back of the courtyard had Cam swinging his gaze around. It snagged first on Aidan’s niece, Katie, halfway up the aisle, tossing rose petals. He gave her the Mister Potato Head face that used to make her giggle and now made her roll her eyes, the look so reminiscent of her uncle that Cam laughed out loud. His laughter died, though, as his gaze skipped over her shoulder to the man several feet behind her.
It could have just as easily been Cam walking up the aisle, or they could have bypassed the aisle bit altogether, but Cam had selfishly wanted the excuse to admire Nic in his uniform. Cam patted himself on the back for his selfishness, but the mental gesture didn’t carry nearly enough weight for the moment. This was a Nic that Cam had never seen before. With Victoria on one arm and Mary on the other, the two women who’d raised and protected him after his mother’s death, Nic wore an expression of total peace, one that cracked his prosecutor’s mask to pieces. Nic’s smile was so real, so unencumbered, that Cam had to force himself not to bolt down the aisle and touch it—taste it—for himself. He wanted to share that feeling with the man he loved, so happy Nic had finally found it and so happy to witness it.
Nic was beside Cam in less than a dozen steps and the tsunami of contentment Nic brought with him walloped Cam.“You look hot as fuck,” Cam whispered low. “And I don’t just mean the uniform.” He palmed Nic’s cheek and brushed a thumb over the corner of his smile. “This is amazing.”
Nic smiled wider. “You in that tux is a good look too, even though I know you hate it.” He angled his face to kiss Cam’s palm and a warm, gentle wave followed in the wake of the tsunami, lapping at Cam’s heart.
“Worth it,” he said.
Nic gave his palm one more kiss, then gathered Cam’s hands in both of his. “Let’s get married, Boston.”
The rest of the ceremony was a blur—Aidan officially welcoming the guests, Jamie and Eddie saying a few words, Aidan leading Cam and Nic through the vows, Jamie producing a ring that matched the one Nic had given Cam when he’d proposed, Aidan pronouncing them husbands, Katie clapping and shouting “Now kiss.”
Cam happily followed the little lady’s order, kissing his husband to a courtyard full of cheers and, when Cam bent Nic backward, deepening the kiss, to catcalls too. Cam didn’t care and neither did Nic, no objection to be heard from the attorney who tightly wrapped his arms around Cam, happily lost with him in their own world.
Until Keith and Lette began playing a Dropkick Murphys tune and the aforementioned Irish contingent—expats and Bostonians—was ready to party. It was a long half hour down the aisle, repeatedly waylaid by friends and family wanting hugs, but eventually they reached the backyard, which had been decked out for the reception—including a bar, a buffet, high and low tables, and a dance floor.
It was near a corner of the last that Cam eventually found himself, an arm around Nic’s waist, one of Nic’s over his shoulders, as they chatted with their closest friends. “Truth time. How did you guys pull this off?” Cam asked.
“How did you keep this a secret?” Nic translated for him.
Mel tapped a manicured nail against her champagne glass. “I threatened bodily harm if anyone cracked.”
“She’s not lying,” Jamie mumbled into his own glass.
