I reach for her hand, my thumb stroking over her ring. “We’ve both lived our lives ruled by calendars full of impossible missions and contingency plans. I think we can handle one wedding.”
Abby claps her hands together like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. “Oh, I could do this in my sleep. Seriously, Hawk, Reese, let me at it.”
I grin. “You sure? Because last time I trusted you to ‘plan something,’ we ended up in a desert convoy at three in the morning with an impending drone strike.”
“That was one time,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about drones this time.”
“You sure you can handle this?” Damon teases. “You cry at those save-the-puppy commercials.”
Abby glares at him. “Shut up, Damon. I’m making this wedding happen. Next month. Easy.”
Reese turns sharply. “Next month?”
The whole table quiets again, but I don’t look away from Reese. The rest of the room might as well not exist. “Next month,” I repeat, my voice steady. “We can do it here, or wherever you want. Somewhere that feels like us.”
Reese studies me for a long moment, her gaze softening, a dozen emotions passing through it: shock, hesitation, love, and eventually surrender.
Then she exhales, almost smiling. “I guess we’re getting married next month.”
The whole table breaks into cheers and laughter, but I barely hear it. I stand, pulling her into my arms, and the second she’s there, it feels like everything else fades away. I press a soft kiss to her lips. She whispers against my mouth, “I would’ve married you today.”
My chest tightens as I smile against hers. “I know, baby.”
The conversation spins into a celebratory and planning blur. Gunnar opens another bottle of wine. Abby pulls out a notepad—because of course she has one—and starts rattling off color palettes and venues like she’s been prepping for this since birth.
“I’m thinking something intimate,” she suggests, flipping a page. “Backyard lights, strings of lanterns, nothing too fussy.”
Damon leans back in his chair, smiling faintly. “You two’ve been through hell. You deserve something beautiful.”
Reese looks at him, eyes softening. “We all do.”
The mood in the air shifts, a quiet wave of understanding passing through the table. We’ve all lost people. We’ve allcarried ghosts. But tonight, there’s something healing about being here. About seeing one of us get something good.
Reese’s hand slides onto my thigh under the table, a subtle touch. She leans in, whispering so only I can hear, “You know, part of me still feels like I’m dreaming.”
I turn my head toward her, the corners of my mouth curving in a slow smile. “Then I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me,” I whisper back. “Because I plan on making the rest of your life feel exactly like that.”
Abby interrupts by shoving her phone across the table. “Okay, hear me out. Early fall wedding—warm colors, simple ceremony, maybe a private property near the lake. I’ve got a contact who?—”
Gunnar groans. “Youjustfound out and you already have a venue?”
“I move fast,” Abby says proudly.
“I’ve heard that about you,” Jagger teases with an over-exaggerated wink.
Abby’s brows lift, a slow smirk tugging at her mouth as she leans back in her seat. “Careful, Jagger. I don’t take insults from self-proclaimed playboys with commitment issues who are as well-read as the back of a shampoo bottle.”
Gunnar nearly chokes on his drink, laughing. “Damn.”
Jagger slaps a hand over his heart in mock offense. “That’s harsh. I’m more of a conditioner guy, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Abby fires back. “Probably the leave-in kind. Works while you sleep around.”
Jagger grins, eyes glinting. “You jealous, Abby?”
“Of what?” she scoffs. “Your revolving door of bad decisions?”
He leans in, his voice low and teasing. “You’d remember me if you were one of them.”
