He looks at me then.
Really looks.
And something in his expression shifts.
Softens.
Like he’s proud too.
“That’s yours,” he says firmly. “Always will be.”
My breath catches again.
“And I want you to know something,” he adds, his tone changing—more serious now. Grounded. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean you stop working. Doesn’t mean you give up your life.”
My eyes widen.
“Benji—”
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Schedules. Trips. Your vlog. All of it.”
Hope blooms so fast it almost hurts.
“Just,” he starts and hesitates for a fraction of a second, and I see it.
A flicker.
A hint of uncertainty.
“None of that dating app shit, okay?”
He’s trying to sound casual, but I hear it anyway.
That quiet edge of don’t leave me again.
Don’t replace me.
Don’t choose someone else.
And God—it wrecks me.
Because how could he not know?
How could he not feel it the way I do?
I laugh softly, stepping closer, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
“None of that dating app shit,” I promise.
His shoulders relax just a little.
Not completely.
But enough.
We step out of the chapel together, hand in hand, and Vegas hits me all over again.
The lights.
