I swallow hard, fists clenching. “Go find Silas. Something’s not right.”
Oliver rises immediately, the scrape of his chair against the floor jolting the air. He doesn’t question me. His jaw’s tight now too, mirroring mine, and he moves fast toward the hall.
And I’m left staring at the clock.
Waiting.
Dreading.
“Are you nervous?” I ask Lauren inside her hotel room.
“No, should I be?”
Here we go—Lauren and her need to adapt to social expectations.
“No, not if you’re sure.” I brush her hair over her shoulder—hair so similar to mine—and she looks radiant.
But I can’t help feeling dim today. There’s a knot in my stomach I can’t untangle. Luca’s family is going to be here—specifically Thomas Walker, the man I swore I’d never see again. But life loves its little plot twists. Who would’ve thought Lauren and Silas would end up getting married?
“Thanks for being here. Mom isn’t here yet, and I’m kind of lost. How was your flight?”
“Oh, you know… flights are…” Ugh, I hate lying to my sister. “Boring.”
Lauren takes my hands in hers and gives them a light squeeze. “Em, what’s going on? You seem… off. Is this a Luca thing again?”
I pull my hands back and walk to the single-seater next to the window. It’s a soft seafoam green, and beside it sits a tiny table with a massive bouquet in a crystal vase. Of course Silas would book the best hotel in all of Manhattan.
“That theory died years ago, you know?” Lauren always thought Luca drained me—that he sucked all the energy out of me. What she doesn’t know is that I was the one who did that. “It’s just been a couple of long weeks”—of sex—“and I’m a little tired. But don’t worry. Today I’m your slave until you marry Silas and officially becomehisslave…”
“Emma!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Tell me, what do you need me to do?”
Lauren sits on the matching chair across from me. She’s not in her dress yet, but her makeup and hair are done. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. Silas hired a wedding planner, and she’s taking care of everything.” She shrugs, visibly bored. “I haven’t seen him since last night. I miss him.”
I smile because she looks confused. In Lauren-logic, missing someone after less than twenty-four hours probably makes zero sense. But for me? Totally relatable. Luca and I parted ways at the hotel two hours ago, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
“That’s a good sign, sis.” I squeeze her hand.
I’ve never seen her like this with anyone else. And even if Silas wouldn’t be my first choice, if she’s happy, then so am I.
We spend the afternoon catching up. Silas sends over a bottle of champagne with a handwritten letter that makes Lauren blush. I wisely choose not to ask what it says.
At seven, the wedding planner storms in, heels clacking against the tile like gunfire. She nearly faints when she catches us giggling on the couch, champagne flutes in hand, lipstick smudged from laughing too hard. Her eyes bulge, hands flying to her temples, and then she snaps—borderline feral—ordering ustoget dressed immediately.We scramble like guilty teenagers, still stifling laughter as she flutters around, tugging zippers and adjusting veils.
The ceremony itself is breathtaking. Golden light spills through the tall windows, catching on the crystal chandeliers and casting halos across the aisle. Silas’s eyes shine the second he sees Lauren appear, his usual cool slipping as his lips part in awe. That look calms me—it says everything words never could.
Luca stands at his side, jaw strong, posture sharp, though I notice the small exhale he lets out as Lauren draws closer. Killian and Oliver flank him, identical green eyes scanning the room, each brother holding their own kind of steady.
I stand just behind Lauren, close enough to catch the tremble in her hands as she clutches her bouquet. I smooth the train of her dress when it pools awkwardly, my palm lingering for reassurance. Just in case she needs me.
Luca gives me those cold, practiced looks—the ones meant to dismiss me—but his eyes don’t lie. They drag down the length of me, lingering shamelessly on the dress that clings in all the right places. I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.
His gaze smothers me, ignites me, makes promises I know he’ll keep.
They sayI do,ride off to the hotel for the reception, and the families file out in a polished line of black cars. Somehow, I end up in one with the three Walker brothers.
Do I need to say it’s awkward?
