James cleared his throat once.
“I need to replace Ethan,” he said, voice low.
Noah nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”
James looked him directly in the eye.
“I want you,” he said. “…to stand in his place. As my best man.”
For a moment Noah didn’t move. He blinked, as if he needed to double check he’d heard correctly.
“Me?” he said, stunned. “James… are you sure?”
James gave a short, earnest nod.
“You’ve always been there for me,” he said. “Long before any of this. Through every stupid mistake I’ve made. I want you beside me tomorrow. If you’ll do it.”
Noah’s face changed in a way I didn’t see often, something warm and genuine breaking through the usual reserve.
“Of course I’ll do it,” he said. “I’d be honoured.”
James pulled him into a firm, grateful hug. Noah returned it.
I felt a small, unexpected tug in my chest watching them, something like hope, or pride, or maybe just the relief of things finally going right in a morning full of wrongs.
When they stepped apart, James exhaled shakily.
“Thank you,” he said. “Really.”
Noah clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
James nodded and headed towards the house, leaving Noah and me standing outside in the warm, rising sunlight.
He watched him go, thoughtful. “Please tell me tomorrow’s going to be uneventful.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Have you met this family?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
By late afternoon, the estate had settled into something almost resembling harmony.
For the first time all day, no one was crying, shouting, storming off, apologising, or frantically searching for someone. The courtyard was still. Even the vines looked relieved.
I stepped onto the terrace with the vague intention of “checking things”, which actually meant giving myself two glorious uninterrupted minutes away from everyone.
The familiar scuff of boots behind me tugged me out of my thoughts.
Noah walked out, his hair ruffled from the wind, holding a steaming cup in his hands.
“You forgot this earlier,” he said, offering it out.
“My tea?” I blinked.
He nodded, holding it out. When I reached for it, our fingers slid together, not a brush, not a tap, an actual, slow slide. Warm skin, rough fingertips, and a spark shot clean through me.
His eyes flicked to our hands before he let go, a tiny bit slower than he needed to.
Heat unfurled inside me like someone had struck a match.
