Dangerously real.
Beautifully real.
And for the first time since arriving at the chapel, I don’t twist the ring on my finger. I hold his hand instead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CADEN
The ocean is the color of molten sapphire—deep, endless, unbroken. From our private villa, all you could hear is the hush of the waves and the occasional call of a distant seabird. Three days of perfection. Three days where Kamiyah smiled freely, without the weight of her aunt shadowing every gesture. Three days where she fell asleep in my arms instead of flinching at every vibration from her phone.
And three days where I pretended this world was permanent.
I watch her now, wrapped in one of the resort’s light robes, standing barefoot in the sand as the wind tugs at her curly chestnut hair. The late afternoon sun paints her skin a lush golden bronze. She looks… peaceful. Almost fragile in that peace, like one wrong word might shatter it.
This is why I brought her as far away as I could. Somewhere Priscilla couldn’t reach. Somewhere Kamiyah could remember what it feels like to breathe.
I step off the shaded deck and walk toward her. She doesn’t hear me at first, too lost in the horizon. But when I slidemy hands around her waist, she leans back into me without hesitation. “You okay?” I murmur into her hair.
She nods. “Just memorizing,” she says softly. “Everything. The sound, the heat, the way it smells. I don’t want to forget any of it.”
My chest tightens. “You won’t.” But she would. We both would. Reality has teeth, and it’s waiting for us the moment we set foot back in Starlight.
She looks down at my hands on her stomach, tracing small circles with her thumb. “I didn’t expect any of this,” she whispers. “Not the chapel, not the vows, not… this.”
I swallow. “I know the wedding wasn’t what you dreamed of.”
She turned in my arms, lifting her face to mine. “Caden. It was perfect.”
“It wasn’t,” I say, brushing a stray strand behind her ear. “Not the way you deserved.”
“You were there,” she says simply. “That’s what mattered.”
And damn it, the sincerity in her voice nearly brings me to my knees. I kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger. “At least tell me this part feels right.”
She smiles—slow, soft, unguarded. “It feels like a dream.”
Good. Because I wanted to give her every dream she never got to have. For three days, I tried. Sunrise swims, candlelit dinners, massages that left her melting against me, long nights tangled in sheets where nothing existed but us. Every moment felt like a stolen miracle.
But miracles have expiration dates, I remind myself. At least for now.
“Kamiyah,” I say, tightening my grip just slightly. “We have to talk.”
She stiffens. Not much—just a shift of breath. She knows what’s coming.
“We can’t stay here,” I say quietly. “Not much longer.”
She looks away, down at the sand curling over her toes. “I know.”
“The longer we disappear, the more it looks like you’re being manipulated by me. Like you’re not fit to make decisions, which is exactly what Priscilla wants people to think.”
Her throat bobs. “Just a little longer?”
God, I want to say yes. I want another three days. Three weeks. Three years. But the world wouldn’t let us. “I wish we could escape forever,” I admit, pressing my forehead into her curls. “But we need to go back. We need to face this.”
She nods slowly, turning into my chest until her breath brushes my lips. “Okay. Tomorrow?”
“No.” I brush my thumb along her jaw. It kills me to deny her this simple ask. “Tonight.”
