“Good.” He clinked his glass against hers. “He deserves it. And so do you, Sunshine.”
With the reception in full swing—guests mingling, laughter rising, the sky sliding toward dusk—she stepped away, just long enough to steady herself and take it all in. The edge of the terrace offered a view of the water still kissed with light, and was a secluded spot away from the buzz of celebration.
She was still absorbing it when arms slid around her waist. “Escaping already?” Ronan murmured in her ear.
She leaned back against him. “I’m taking a moment. It’s been quite a day.”
“Any regrets?” His voice held that particular tender inflection she knew so well, reserved only for their private moments.
She turned to face him. “Not a single one. You?”
“Only that it took me so long to realize what had been there all along.” An odd sight over his shoulder caught her eye—a server weaving through the crowd, her hair pulled into a severe bun. But it wasn’t her pace that caught Devney’s attention.
It was her stare. Fixed. Sharp. Directed straight at Gabriel, who stood near the bar mid-laugh.
“What is it?” Ronan asked, noticing her shift.
“That server,” she murmured. “She hasn’t looked away from Gabriel.”
They watched as the woman crossed the terrace, her steps quickening. She carried a tray of champagne flutes, the glasses catching the fading light. As she reached the bar, she stopped abruptly.
The tray tilted.
Everything seemed to slow. The champagne flutes slid forward, crystal catching the last rays of sunset as they tumbled through the air. Then they hit the stone terrace—one, two, three sharp cracks followed by the musical shatter of glass. Champagne spread across the stone in a golden pool, bubbles fizzing against the terracotta.
Other servers rushed forward with towels and a dustpan, but the woman didn’t move. She just stared at Gabriel.
“Tessa,” Gabriel said, and she could hear the shock in his voice.
The woman took a step back. “I never thought I’d see you again.” Then she turned and ran. Across the terrace. Through the archway. Gone.
She stared after her. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know,” Ronan said, his eyes on Gabriel. “But he does.”
She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Eleanor appeared at her side, graceful and unshaken. “It’s time for the first dance.”
Ronan took her hand. As he led her toward the center of the terrace, Devney looked back one last time.
Gabriel hadn’t moved. He stood there, glass in hand, watching the space where the server Tessa had vanished—frozen, like his past had just crashed into his present and he hadn’t figured out what to do about it yet.
“Should we be worried?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” Ronan said, pulling her close as the music began. “Tonight is ours.”
As they moved together on the floor, the world narrowed to them—to the pressure of his hand at her waist, his breath against her hair, the constant, strong beat of his heart under her hand, grounding her.
“I love you, Mrs. Wilder,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.” She smiled against his chest. “No strategy required.”
The celebration carried on around them—music swelling, glasses clinking, laughter floating from the terrace—but they stayed in their own orbit. He reached for her hand, their fingers finding each other with instinctive ease.
“Happy?” he asked, the single word carrying everything he couldn’t say.
She leaned into him. “Completely.”
And for a long moment, she held on.
