It feels like a possibility.
I take a sip of champagne. The bubbles tickle my nose, effervescent and frivolous.
I let myself hope.
When the toasts finally start up, they are chaotic in the way only unscripted affection and a little… or a lot of alcohol can be.
I can see Shawnie and one of her assistants running around cutting some players off already, and it’s comical.
Juliet goes first, because she earned the right by sheer force of will and event-planning prowess. She stands on a step, raises her glass, and somehow manages to be both funny and sincere in the same thirty seconds.
“To Katerina,” she says. “For being braver than most people I know, and agreeing to marry into this circus. And to Scottie, for having the spine…and the heart, to stand beside her. Mayimmigration be merciful, your grandmother be convinced, and your sex life eventually be incredible.”
The bar explodes. I nearly choke on my drink.
“Too far?” Juliet says mildly when the laughter dies down.
“Not far enough,” Peyton mutters.
Hunter makes a toast that starts with, “I Googled Russian wedding traditions” and goes rapidly downhill from there, involving bread, salt, and a threat to fight anyone who tries to drag me away from this country. By the time he’s done, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
Luka’s is the one that undoes me.
He doesn’t stand on anything. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just gets to his feet, holding his glass loosely, looking at me with an expression that makes him look older than he is, and somehow younger too.
“Katerina has always been the better half of our family,” he says simply. “The best half, like our mother was. I couldn’t protect her the way I wanted to when we were young. I can’t be the shield I wish I could be now.”
He swallows.
“But Scottie…” His gaze shifts to him. “He stepped in front of danger without hesitating when he could have called my bluff or told me I was an asshole for tricking him into a bet…”
“Here, here!” Aleksi agrees to the asshole part, raising his glass, and everyone laughs.
Luka mutters a curse in Russian that only I know, and I cover my chuckle before he continues. “… And I know he’ll keep doing it. Keeping her safe when I can’t. So thank you,” he says to Scottie. “For giving my sister a way out.”
The room is very quiet for a moment.
Something hot pricks behind my eyes. I blink hard, but a tear escapes anyway, sliding carefully down the edge of my nose.
Scottie shifts closer, his hand brushing my knee under the table in a small, steadying touch. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
The cake cutting is mercifully less emotional. It’s a small, two-tiered thing with buttercream frosting and simple flowers, clearly thrown together at short notice and somehow perfect for it. When Scottie’s hand covers mine on the knife, guiding it through the soft layers, I feel that same little jolt in my skin, like my nerve endings are still recalibrating to his touch.
We feed each other small bites, neatly and carefully. No smashing, no frosting in faces. The team boos half-heartedly.
“Cowards,” JP mutters. “You’re supposed to humiliate each other.”
“Maybe we’re doing this part differently,” Scottie says, and his eyes are on me, not the room when he says it.
My stomach flips.
The hours blur in a warm, flickering haze of candles on the tables, music and laughter. Irina already had to leave, so I gave her a tight squeeze before she left, thanking her again for flying out to be here with me.
“Take care of each other,” she said to me and Luka before she left.
Someone starts a drinking game at the bar. Peyton and Cammy run out onto the dance floor when a song they requested comes on. Luka relaxes by degrees, the lines around his mouth easing as he watches me not fall apart.
And then Juliet is clapping again, calling everyone back to the dance floor.
