He whispers, “Let’s hide it from my lotus flower and V, yeah?”
I laugh, and he makes a discreet “call me” gesture. “Oh, by the way. Your man didn’t look pleased about your absence, just saying.”
I groan. “Was he mad?”
“Hard to tell. He always looks mad.”
I groan again and rush through the clusters of guests, leaving the courtyard for the reception area outside.
Nikolai—or most likely Brandon—wanted to go for a stunning Tuscany vineyard-château destination wedding.
The place looks like it was carved out of a dream filled with so much good wine. Rolling hills stretch in every direction, thick with vines so green, they look ethereal under the summer sun. The château rises behind the vineyard and all around us—its stone walls warm from centuries of heat—and ivy curls up toward its terracotta roof.
The ceremony was set in the courtyard that’s emptying now, framed by old cypress trees and strung with linen banners that sway just enough to catch the scent of grapes and roses. Long rows of white chairs still hold the hum of voices from moments ago, petals scattered across the aisle.
And that’s where I find him.
Vaughn’s standing at the altar, his hands in his pockets, the golden streaks of the late-afternoon sun catching on the crisp lines of his tux. His bow tie tied to perfection, his white shirt stretches over his muscular shoulders, and every inch of him is carved to make my heart ache.
He looks mouthwatering, but then again, he always has.
If he sees the state of my barely-put-together tux, he’ll sigh and fix it—my bow tie, my cuff links, my shirt. And he’ll look so adorably concentrated while doing it. That’s why I put in as little effort as possible, encouraging his perfectionist tendencies.
Over the past couple of years, he’s often insisted on taking me shopping for clothes, carefully picking thingsthat suit me, especially leather. In the beginning, I thought it was because he enjoyed the task of clothes shopping for his lover and I was salty about him doing it with Danika, but he said he couldn’t care less what Danika wore, yet he definitely does with me.
He especially wants us to ride safely on the bike, hence all the protective leather he splurges on.
Let’s just say I’ve ripped that leather off him more times than I can count.
I lick my lips as I watch him.
I love how he looks calm to the outside world but turns into my beautiful, sexy Vaughn in private. Sometimes domineering, other times needy, but often times just wanting to hold me to him the moment he sees me.
It’s why I didn’t sleep well last night. Because he wasn’t there to run his fingers through my hair. I’m so goddamn addicted to him and used to him and irrevocably in love with him, I won’t be able to survive if I ever have to live without him.
Now that we’re graduating—yes, Vaughn is graduating early—I’m moving to New York; I don’t care about Chicago. Okay, I do, but truly, Lukas is doing an awesome job, and I’ve kind of gotten closer to him since Dad’s death. Mikailo as well. Alya insists on inviting us over to Boston for family dinners all the time.
The other day, we went to meet our newborn niece. She has the cutest little face that I nearly devoured, and I’m so going to spoil her shitless in true uncle fashion.
As Lukas, Mikailo, and I were making faces at the little girl, Alya said, “Seems that we needed Dad to die so all of us could finally be free.”
And she’s right. I never tolerated Lukas and Mikailo like I do now. Though it might also have to do with the fact that they don’t have opinions on my sexuality like Dad did. In fact, Lukas and Vaughn get along well—too well for my liking.
Similar personalities and all that.
But yeah, Chicago doesn’t really need me yet. Maybe it will in the future, but for now, I’m totally moving to New York so I can be with my Vaughn. I can say I’m going there to help out with our newly found alliance and all that.
I still haven’t told Vaughn this yet, but I have to soon because, while being together on the island during college has been fine, I think he’s also been stressing a bit about the future now that college is over. It’s probably why he’s been a bit secretive and withdrawn lately.
As I walk toward him now, with the area empty, a devilish thought hits me.
I could marry him here and now.
No audience, no rings, just me walking up that aisle and not stopping until I’m close enough to tell him exactly how many times I’ve already imagined it.
Just him being mine forever.
Though I’m not sure about bringing it up, because the other day, when I jokingly asked his dad for his hand, to which his dad replied that I still need to prove myself—Kirill is just playing hard to get; he loves me—Vaughn got flustered and said we were still young.
