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“Careful, wife,” he murmurs, lips close to mine. “I’m very protective.” His fingers linger for a beat longer than necessary before he lets me go again.

For this night, we’re just… us.

Not an NHL superstar, not eight businessmen, not an heiress or anything else.

Just family, dancing under the stars.

After the wild, joyful chaos of dancing with our brothers, the music shifts again—softer now, slower. A gentle piano melody floats through the air like a memory, and I know what’s coming.

I turn to find my dad already walking toward me, a proud, emotional smile on his face. I step into his arms, and we begin to sway together. He doesn’t say much, but I feel everything in the way he holds me—just a little tighter than usual. Like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“We’re so proud of you, baby. I hope you know that,” he murmurs.

I nod, blinking back the tears, my throat too full to speak.

When the song ends, he kisses my forehead, then gently steps aside—John already waiting.

Nick’s father opens his arms to me with the kindest smile, and I lean into them. There’s a quiet strength in the way he moves, reassuring and calm, like he’s saying, “You’re one of us.”

“I’m so happy you two ended up together, Ser. I always hoped this day will come,” he says softly, smiling sincerely at me.

“I always hoped this day will come too, honestly, John,” I confess, holding his gaze.

“I know, daughter. I know.”

We don’t say anything more. We just dance. And somehow, it’s enough.

At one point, I catch a glimpse of Nick leading my mom out of the dance floor and taking Sara’s hand in his. She laughs, emotional and teary, and he twirls her with such care and tenderness that my heart aches just watching them.

The way she looks at him… it’s everything. A mother’s love—unconditional and fierce.

A couple of hours later, the laughter starts to rise again when a voice announces it’s time for the bouquet toss.

I make my way to the center, holding the bouquet high above my head, grinning as the single girls gather behind me.

I count down loudly, “Three… Two… O—„ and then I spin around instead of throwing it. The girls gasp and squeal, but I walk straight toward Thalia.

Her eyes widen, hands flying to her mouth, already shaking her head. But I simply smile and gently press the bouquet into her arms.

The loudest whistles come from behind her. I don’t have to look to know it’s Zayn and Ryan leading the teasing brigade.

Ethan, standing just behind Thalia, raises both eyebrows, then leans close to her and says something that makes her cheeks turn bright crimson. She’s practically glowing now, bouquet in hand, caught between mortification and delight.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything more. Just smiles that easy, slow, playful smile—the kind that shows he knows exactly what he’s doing.

And judging by the way she bites her lip, so does she.

It’s midnight when I finally step away from the dance floor and make my way to the bar, craving something cold. The bartender hands me a glass of chilled juice, and I take a sip, relishing the quiet moment.

I feel him behind me—before I even turn, I know for sure it’s Nick.

“There you are,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss just below my ear. “Do you realize I barely got to spend any time with my wife tonight?”

I smile, leaning back into him. “I’ve been right here.”

“Exactly,” he replies, playfully. “Too far away. And too much fucking people around you.”

He turns me gently to face him, and before I can say a word, he scoops me up into his arms. “It’s time we disappear, Mrs. Hardy.”