"The Ionescus are coming, baby," he says.
And then he walks off, disappearing into the crowd with the swagger of a man who just conquered a continent.
"There you are, mister. Everything alright?" Zaria says, walking up to me.
Her dress flows behind her like liquid gold, the late afternoon sun catching the delicate beadwork along the neckline. She looks like something out of a dream. My dream, specifically. The kind I never let myself have before her.
"Oh yeah, you know. Business."
"Even on your sister's wedding day?" Her eyebrow arches, and there's a teasing edge to her voice.
I shrug, reaching for her waist and pulling her against me. "Every day," I say, and kiss her.
Her lips are soft and warm. When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, and I can't tell if it's from the kiss or the heat. Probably both.
"Come with me," I say, taking her hand.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere quieter. You'll see."
I lead her through the crowd, past tables covered in white linen and crystal, past guests laughing and dancing under the string lights. We slip through the back entrance of the house, and I guide her through the hallway, past the kitchen where the caterers are working, past the office where I just shook hands with Matei and sealed our future, and toward the stairs.
"Callum, where?—"
"Trust me."
We head up the stairs, the ones I've climbed a thousand times, until we reach the balcony overlooking the garden. The noise of the reception fades to a gentle murmur below us, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.
Zaria steps to the railing, gripping it with both hands.
She leans against it, the breeze catching her hair, pulling a few strands loose from the clip holding it back. She doesn't fix it.
The garden stretches beneath us, fairy lights woven through the hedges, guests milling about with champagne flutes, Keira and Octavian at the center of it all, her white gown standing out among the darker suits.
"We came a long way from the basement," I say, moving to stand beside her, our arms touching.
She turns, and her lips curve into a small smile. "I think I like this view better."
I laugh, the sound rough in my throat. "Yeah. So do I."
Below us, my mother dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief while Declan says something that makes Lyra swat his arm. Enzo and Ares stand near the bar, engaged in what looks like a heated debate about something. Matei is surrounded by a few bridesmaids, making moves before he's even left my house.
We stand there in silence, taking in the beautiful day.
"I need to tell you something," she says, turning to me, and I can tell she's nervous.
"What is it?" I ask. "Everything alright?"
She clasps her hands together in front of her, then unclasps them, then clasps them again.
"So," she starts, then stops. Takes a breath. "I've been throwing up every day for like a week now."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
"What?" I grip her shoulders gently. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"
She looks at me.
