The room softens around the words.
Erin lowers the shoes. Dolores’s hands pause in my hair. I meet Heath’s eyes in the mirror, and he holds my gaze.
A year ago, he would have swallowed that thought whole. He would have waited until the house was asleep and tried to carry fear without giving it a name.
Now he says it.
“It is,” I tell him.
His fingers smooth over the front of his jacket. “You are still doing it though.”
“Yes.”
“Even though Stefano is scary.”
Erin gasps as if he has said something scandalous.
I smile at Heath’s reflection. “Especially because Stefano is scary.”
That earns me the smallest trace of a grin.
The venue is a restored stone conservatory on the edge of the city, all tall windows and ironwork, bare branches visible beyond the glass. It is not as majestic as Stefano could have made it. There are no cameras, politicians, or endless tables of strangers calling themselves family because the Savarese name gives them something to hold onto. Instead, there are fewer than forty people in the room.
There are fewer than forty people in the room.
Dolores stands near the front in deep green silk, already dabbing at her eyes. Omar is next to her in a black suit, looking like he would rather face a firing squad than a flower arrangement. Victor and Alex sit in the first row with their hands linked between them. Raven is near the aisle in a dark blue dress, skeptical enough to suggest she might arrest someone if the vows become too sentimental. Everyone seems held in place by the moment.
Stefano waits at the end of the aisle.
The sight of him nearly stops me.
He wears black, of course. Perfectly fitted suit, dark shirt, no tie. His hair is swept back, his jaw tense enough to tell me he has been standing there too long, pretending he is not nervous. He turns the ring on one finger while he watches the doors, like he is guarding the threshold of his own future.
Then he sees me.
Everything in his face changes.
Not the way it did at the auction, when he looked at me as if he had already decided I belonged to him.
This is quieter.
Like the whole room has fallen away, and I am the only thing he sees.
My hand finds Heath’s arm.
He is walking me down the aisle because that was what he wanted. He asked in the kitchen three weeks ago while Erin colored at the table and Alex pretended not to listen.
Can I walk with you?
Not give you away. Not take anyone’s place. Just walk with you.
“Yes,” I had said before he finished asking.
Now he looks up at me, his small hand tucked firmly around my arm.
“You okay?” he whispers.
“I was about to ask you that.”
