The club chaplain—an older member who got ordained online specifically for moments like this—clears his throat. “We’re gathered here because Ash and Bonnie have decided to bind themselves together.” He looks at Ash. “You got vows?”
Ash takes my hands. His palms are warm, calloused, steady.
“I vow to protect you,” he says. “To keep you safe from anyone who wants to hurt you. To give you the freedom to be who you are, to pursue your dreams, to never cage you.” His thumbs trace circles on my hands. “I vow to stand beside you. Not in front of you, not behind you. Beside you. Always.”
My throat tightens.
The chaplain looks at me. “Your turn.”
I swallow hard. “I vow to trust you. To let you protect me without fighting you every step of the way.” A few brothers chuckle. “I vow to be honest with you, even when the truth is uncomfortable. To stand with this club, to defend our family, to never back down from a fight that matters.” I squeeze his hands. “And I vow to remind you that you’re not alone in this. Whatever weight you carry as president, you don’t have to carry it by yourself. I’m here. I’m yours.”
Ash beams at me, and my cheeks only go redder.
“Rings,” the chaplain prompts.
Ghost produces two simple silver bands.
Ash slides a ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
I do the same for him, my hands shaking slightly.
“By the power vested in me by the internet and the state of California,” the chaplain says with a grin, “I pronounce you husband and wife. Ash, kiss your bride before she changes her mind.”
Ash cups my face in his hands and kisses me.
The world falls away.
His lips are gentle at first, almost like he’s afraid I’ll break. But then I lean into him and the kiss deepens, turns hungry, becomes a promise of things to come.
I forget we’re standing in front of the entire club. Forget everything except the way Ash tastes like whiskey and the way his lips move against mine.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless. Ash rests his forehead against mine. “Hi, wife,” he murmurs.
“Hi, husband.”
The club erupts in cheers and whistles. Brothers surge forward to congratulate us, slap Ash on the back, and hug me carefully because everyone knows I’m still healing.
The party starts immediately. Someone cranks up the music. Beer appears from seemingly nowhere. The common room transforms into celebration central as brothers toast the new marriage and the new president.
Because that’s the other thing happening today—Ash officially takes on the title. With Dad in federal custody and no sign of getting out, the club needs leadership. Ash has been acting president for weeks, but now it’s official.
The brothers raise their glasses. “To President Ash and his old lady Bonnie!”
The response is deafening. “To Ash and Bonnie!”
I find myself pulled into conversation after conversation.
Titan appears at my elbow with a beer. “How’s it feel to be an old lady?”
“Ask me when my head stops spinning.”
He laughs. “Fair enough. For what it’s worth, I think you two are good together. Even if Ash is an idiot who doesn’t know how to express emotions.”
“I heard that,” Ash calls from across the room.
“Good!” Titan shouts back. “You’re an emotionally stunted disaster!”
“And you’re a pain in my ass!”
