“You look…” He exhales slowly, like the words matter. “Incredible.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks, but I don’t look away. Not anymore.
Before we step outside, he leans down and presses a quick, sweet kiss to my lips. It’s gentle. Grounding. Just enough to remind me he’s right here.
“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly, forehead resting against mine. “Tonight is yours.”
My chest tightens—not with nerves this time, but with something fuller. Something steadier.
As we slide into the limo, city lights stretching ahead of us, I realize something that settles deep and certain in my bones:
No matter how this night unfolds, no matter who shows up or why—
I didn’t build this alone.
And for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m borrowing power.
I feel like I earned it.
Detonation
Langston
Idon’t think I’ve ever been this still.
Not because the room isn’t alive—it is. Laughter, low music, glasses clinking, voices weaving together in that polished hum of money and influence. The kind of room I’ve spent my entire life navigating without thinking.
But tonight, I’m not watching the room.
I’m watching her.
Sabrina moves through the space like she belongs here—not because of my name, not because of the people who showed up to be seen—but because she believes in what she’s built. She listens when people speak. Asks questions that matter. Laughs easily. Her hands move when she talks, animated and sure, and every time someone thanks her for this—for tonight—I feel it land somewhere deep in my chest.
Pride. Pure and sharp.
People come up to me constantly. Congratulating me. Thanking me for hosting. For supporting such a “worthwhile cause.”
I smile. Shake hands. Nod.
But I make sure to say the same thing every time.
“This is my wife’s night. I’m just here to support her.”
And every single time, I mean it.
The Rizzolis are all here.
Liam stands near the bar with an arm around his wife, looking like he owns the damn place without trying. Cross is posted nearby, watchful as ever, his presence unmistakable. Callum’s laughing at something, broad and warm, his wife tucked into his side like it’s second nature.
Even Luka made it—fresh off an away game, still carrying that restless energy athletes get when they land. I clap him on the shoulder when I see him, gratitude sharp that he showed up anyway.
My friends are here too.
Coleman and Remi stand together near the back, easy and solid, the twins nowhere in sight but clearly the center of their universe even when they’re not present. Harvey’s leaned against a column, drink in hand, surveying the room like he’s mentally cataloging exits. Nathan’s already deep in conversation with someone important, charm turned up just enough to be dangerous. Dean slips in not long after, apologizing for the delay, still buzzing from the game.
They all came.
For her.
