My throat tightened so hard I had to look down. The emotional whiplash this woman gave me was enough to make my heart palpitate.
“And yes, Papa,” she added, answering the original question with heroic restraint, “we are very intimate.”
God help me.
Her sister burst out laughing. Her mum hid a smile behind her wine glass. Augustin coughed likeIhad slapped him.
Étienne muttered, “Soft landing, Ray. Really nailed that one.”
Auri just squeezed my hand. Hard. Like:I’ve got you.Like:We’re doing this together.Like:Breathe, husband.
And fuck… I wanted to marry her all over again.
Silence held for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three.
Augustin was the first to break the silence. His wine glass lowered slowly. His gaze flicked to the rings, then to Auri, then to me… and stayed there.
“Married,” he repeated, tasting the word like it was something foreign. “Since when?”
Auri lifted her chin, unblinking. “Greece.”
Geneviève’s hand flew to her chest. “Greece? You eloped?”
“Oui, Maman,” she said, gentle but not apologetic. “We eloped.”
Geneviève blinked fast, back straightening with a strange mixture of pride and hurt swirling behind her eyes. “But why not tell us?”
Auri squeezed my hand—a warning, a comfort, maybe both—before answering. “Because it was ours.”
God, I loved her.
But Augustin wasn’t done. His fingers steepled beneath his cleanly-shaven chin, voice calm in the way only a man trying not to explode could manage. “Aurélie. This is not a decision made lightly. Marriage is… it is not?—”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Emilie cut in, flopping back in her chair dramatically. “Papa, look at them.” She gestured aggressively at our hands. “They’re gagging for each other. Of course they got married.”
I choked again. Étienne bit the inside of his cheek so hard to hide a laugh he probably drew blood.
“Emilie,” her mother hissed.
“What?” she shrugged. “I’m right.”
Auri covered her mouth to hide a smile. I was less successful; I cleared my throat, but a chuckle still escaped.
Augustin drew a long breath through his nose. “Callum,” he said finally, turning fully toward me. “Do you have anything to say about this?”
Oh, I had several things to say. None appropriate for this table.
But I managed something measured.
“Yes,” I said. “I love your daughter.” A truth. Clean and sharp as a blade. “And I intend to spend my life proving worthy of her.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And what happens,” he said, “when the season gets hard? When the media turns? When the pressure becomes unbearable? Do you stand by her then? Do you protect her? Or do you leave?”
Auri’s fingers tightened around mine, and something in me snapped cleanly into place. “There is no universe where I leave your daughter.”
The room stilled.
“She stayed for me when she had every reason not to. She loved me when I wasn’t easy to love. She held my hand while I recovered from things that should’ve broken me. She saw me at my worst, and she stayed anyway.”
