Lev scoffs. “For what?”
“For saving me. For accepting how much I love your daughter,” I whisper.
He goes quiet.
Then he nods once, gruff. “Yeah. Well.”
I exhale, then lean down and grip his shoulder carefully. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say, and my voice is raw.
Lev’s hand lifts to my forearm. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he mutters.
Then, as if he can’t handle the softness for more than two seconds?—
He adds, “Try not to trip on the aisle.”
I bark out a laugh. “Go fuck yourself.”
And when he smiles, I swear to God, that heals something in me.
The backyard is transformed. White flowers, soft drapery, sunlight spilling over everything like gold. Chairs line the aisle, the ocean behind the altar stretching endlessly.
And everyone is here.
The Quinns. The Falcones, The Volkovs. Even the Cowboys I never expected to see in Monaco.
Frankie and his men stand like security, but are smiling like proud uncles.
Mikhail and his guys are trying to look intimidating while holding drinks with little cocktail umbrellas.
Jax is leaning against a pillar with that lazy grin like he doesn’t belong in a suit.
Kids are weaving between adults, laughing like this is just a normal day.
Like we’re just… people.
Not mafia.
Not monsters.
Just family.
I stand at the end of the aisle, hands clasped behind my back, staring out at the sea.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Declan is beside me, calm as ever.
“You good?” he murmurs.
I nod once. “No.”
He smirks. “Same.”
Then the music starts.
Every breath catches.
