Gregory's smile was radiant. "Then do not. Love me. Let me love you. Let us figure out this marriage together, messiness and all."
"No more holding back?" Anthea asked.
"No more holding back," Gregory confirmed. "We give this everything we have. We choose each other, every day, even when it is difficult. Especially when it is difficult."
"That is a very large commitment," Anthea said, echoing words she had once spoken to him.
"I have never been good at doing things halfway," Gregory replied, echoing his own response.
Then he kissed her.
Not the tentative kisses they had shared before. Not the careful explorations. But a kiss that felt like a promise—deep and claiming and absolutely devastating.
Anthea melted into it, her hands fisting in his coat, pulling him closer. She felt his arms tighten around her, felt his heart racing against her chest, felt the barely restrained passion in the way he held her like she was precious and necessary all at once.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Gregory rested his forehead against hers.
"I want you," he said, his voice rough. "All of you. Your brilliant mind and your sharp tongue and your impossible stubbornness. I want the fights and the making up and the mornings where you forget to eat because you are too busy planning. I want everything."
"You have it," Anthea said. "All of it. I am yours. Completely."
"And I am yours," Gregory said. "For as long as you will have me."
"Forever, then," Anthea said, surprised by how easy the word came. How right it felt.
"Forever," Gregory agreed.
They kissed again, slower this time but no less intense. Anthea felt something settle in her chest—something that felt like peace mixed with joy mixed with the terrifying certainty that she had just given this man the power to destroy her.
But she had also given herself permission to be happy. To love without reservation. To trust that he would keep the promises he was making.
And that—that felt like flying.
When they finally returned to the celebration, hand in hand, several guests looked at them with knowing smiles. Veronica caught Anthea's eye across the room and grinned—clearly recognizing the slightly disheveled, thoroughly kissed look her sister was sporting.
Anthea felt her cheeks heat but could not bring herself to care. Let them gossip. Let them speculate. She was in love with her husband, and he loved her back, and everything else was just noise.
The rest of the wedding breakfast passed in a blur of happiness. Anthea danced with Gregory twice more, both of them unable to stop smiling at each other like lovesick fools. She accepted congratulations and deflected questions and watched her sister glow with newlywed joy.
It was perfect.
As the afternoon faded into evening and the guests began to depart, Anthea found herself standing beside Gregory, watching Veronica and Mr. Hartley climb into their carriage for the journey to their wedding trip.
"They will be happy," Gregory said quietly.
"Yes," Anthea agreed. "They will."
"And so will we," Gregory added, taking her hand.
Anthea laced her fingers through his. "Yes. We will."
They stood like that until the carriage disappeared from view, then turned back toward the house. Toward their home. Toward the future they had just committed to building together.
"Anthea," Gregory said as they climbed the steps.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
