“Rings,” Cameron prompts gently.
I fish the band from my pocket, holding it up. The gold catches sunlight, warm and solid. Sienna hands Dakota a matching one.
“Repeat after me,” Cameron says. “With this ring?—”
“With this ring,” I echo.
“I thee wed.”
“I thee wed.” I slide the band onto her finger, the fit perfect, like it was made for her.
She repeats the words, voice clear and certain, sliding the matching ring onto my finger. It’s heavier than I expected. Foreign. But right.
“By the power vested in me by absolutely nobody—” Cameron grins. “—I now pronounce you husband and wife. Julien, kiss your bride before I have to watch Abuela cry more.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I cup my wife’s face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, and kiss her. Not gentle. Not tentative. Deep and claiming and full of every promise I just made. She melts against me, hands fisting in my shirt, kissing me back with equal intensity.
“Save some for the honeymoon,” Cameron says.
Dakota buries her burning face against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, never wanting to let go.
Cole approaches first, clapping me on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Try not to screw it up.”
“Helpful advice.”
Arianna kisses Dakota’s cheek, murmuring something I don’t catch that makes Dakota smile. Then Rosa’s there, wrapping us both in a hug.
“My beautiful grandchildren.” She pats our faces with both hands. “Finally.”
“We’re not technically—” I start.
“Hush. You are now.” She beams up at us. “I expect great-grandbabies within the year.”
Dakota makes a strangled sound. “Rosa!”
“What? I’m old. I don’t have time to wait around.” She shuffles back to her seat, still smiling.
Sienna bounces up next, throwing her arms around Dakota with enough force to stagger them both. “You’re stuck with him now. No returns, no exchanges.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“And you—” Sienna points at me. “Hurt her, and I’ll castrate you with a rusty knife.”
“Noted.”
Cameron’s hug is briefer, more composed, but no less genuine. “Happy for you, man. Both of you.”
I lower my voice so only he can hear. “Thanks for stepping up. For all of it.”
“Someone had to keep you from being a complete disaster.” He claps my back. “That’s what brothers do.”
The afternoon dissolves into an improvised, imperfect celebration, but it’s ours.
Rosa produces a bottle of wine she’s been hoarding. Cole vanishes into the cottage and returns with actual bread, cheese, and fruit from our latest supply run. Arianna even made a cake. We eat and drink and pretend, for a few hours, that the world outside our fences doesn’t exist.
But eventually, the sun begins to sink, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and the group slowly disperses.
