“Yeah,” he said, looking a little frazzled but grinning. “Double best-man duty is getting interesting, but everything’s perfect. Let’s drink and make an honest man out of you.”
Oliver’s lips parted.
“It’s too easy,” I said dryly.
Henry laughed. “Way too easy.”
After we drank, Henry ushered us out of the room.
My heart picked up its pace—fast and unprovoked.
It made no sense. There was nothing fragile about us anymore—no hiding, no glances over shoulders, no calculations before touching him in public. Just life, unfolding at our pace.
Mornings that started together and didn’t feel borrowed. Calendars that overlapped because we wanted them to. Flights booked without secrecy. Dinners that turned into plans, plans that quietly turned into habits.
We argued about groceries. About whose turn it was to order out or attempt cooking. About whether fantasy novels counted as “serious literature.” They absolutely did. We worked too late and still went to bed tangled together, bodies familiar enough to sleep through.
It was ordinary. And today was just a formality—because this was already our life.
But my heart didn’t seem to care.
This wasn’t something I was chasing anymore.
And that realization hit harder than all the risks ever had.
Henry walked ahead of us, talking quickly into his phone as we moved through the back of the venue. Kitchens. Offices. Then finally, a wall of soft white curtains.
“Ready,” he said into the phone. “Two minutes. Start it up.”
The music dipped, then swelled again.
“You have the song I asked for, right?” I murmured.
Henry scoffed. “The one thing you asked for? Please.”
“Just checking. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little nervous.”
Oliver’s hand settled on my shoulder, and Henry’s joined it on the other side.
“We’ve got you,” Henry said gently.
And then he pulled the curtain back.
Hundreds of people stood, all eyes turning toward the Langley brothers as we stepped into the room.
Into the event of the year.
The second Langley-Bennett wedding.
For a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in.
The space had been transformed into something stately and almost unreal. Rows of sleek dark chairs filled the room, every seat occupied, every guest dressed in black, creating a sea of shadow and silk that made the aisle glow in contrast. Tall arrangements of white flowers and soft gold accents lined the walkway, candlelight flickering between them like a path of fire leading straight to the raised stage at the far end.
Behind everything rose the grand staircase, wide and sweeping. The aisle stretched from those steps all the way to where we now stood, waiting.
Waiting for him.
Henry and Oliver took their places beside me, both in dark blue at my sides. My own suit matched Ethan’s, cut from the same white cloth, tailored carefully.
