Two years. He’d been paying attention all this time?
“Michael—” A sob caught somewhere between my heart and my throat.
“I love you, Claudette Specter. Make me the happiest man on earth by being my wife.”
The words knocked the air from my lungs.
Michael Ashford loved me.
My entire world was rewriting itself in real time.
Instead I leaned down and pulled him down to me.
Our mouths crashed together and everything else disappeared.
His lips were soft, warm, urgent. So were mine.
His hands slid into my hair, angling my head so he could kiss me deeper. We stood, my back hitting the chapel wall, and I didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything except his mouth on mine and his body pressed against me and the way he was kissing me like he’d been starving for it.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, voice rough.
“That’s a ‘finally.’”
His smile was devastating. “Good. Let’s get married.”
The chapel was small and surprisingly tasteful. White flowers everywhere, soft lighting that made everything look like a dream. The officiant was a woman in her sixties with kind eyes and a dress that sparkled under the lights.
“Welcome,” she said warmly. “Do we have a bride and groom tonight?”
“We do,” Michael said, hand closing around mine.
“Wonderful. Do you have rings?”
“I—” I started, but Michael was already reaching into his pocket.
He pulled out a ring I’d never seen before. Simple gold band with a small diamond that caught the light.
My breath caught. “Michael.”
“It was my grandmother’s,” he said quietly, turning to face me fully. “I’ve been carrying it since I moved back from London and saw you at that first family dinner—when I realized everything had changed. That I wanted you. That I’d always wanted you.” His eyes met mine. “So yes. We have rings.”
The officiant beamed. “How romantic. Shall we begin?”
The ceremony happened in a blur. Standard vows we repeated after her. Words about love and commitment and forever that should have felt meaningless but didn’t. Not when Michael was looking at me like that. Not when his thumb was brushing circles on my hand while we spoke.
When we got to the rings, he slid his grandmother’s ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. Like it had been waiting.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said. “You may kiss your bride.”
Michael’s hands came up to frame my face. He paused for just a second, eyes searching mine.
Then he kissed me, and the world caught fire.
This wasn’t the desperate kiss from outside. This was something else entirely. This was a promise. A claim. His mouth moved over mine slowly, thoroughly, like he had all the time in the world and planned to use every second of it. His tongue swept in, and I made a sound that should have been embarrassing, but I was too far gone to care.
His hand slid into my hair, the other one moving to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel every inch of him pressed against me and it still wasn’t enough. I grabbed his shirt,pulled him closer, and he made this low noise in his throat that I felt everywhere.
