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Afterward, we released black balloons in his honor, and hundreds of them disappeared into the sky while people shouted his name, cried, laughed over old memories, and poured drinks onto the ground for him.

To everybody else, it had been closure—a chance to finally mourn a man they had spent six years wondering about. For me, it had been something much stranger.

I stood there holding Kaidence’s hand, watching people grieve Caspian while knowing I could talk to him when we got home and hold him again that evening. There had been moments during the service when I almost felt guilty for not breaking apart the way people expected me to.

I cried, of course.

I cried for the girl who had spent six years wondering why he never came back. I cried for the life we should’ve had, for everything Kaidence missed, and for the fact that somebody had taken Caspian’s life from him in the first place.

But I wasn’t saying goodbye to him… not really.

Caspian thought the whole thing was funny as hell, especially the part where half of Hallowridge showed up dressed like they had personally been his best friend.

He had spent the entire evening afterward giving commentary on his own funeral until I finally told him if he didn’t shut up, I was going to make him attend the next one from outside.

Even now, thinking about it made me smile. Because somehow, only Caspian could attend his own homegoing, critique the turnout, complain about somebody’s suit, and then come home afterward like it had been a regular Saturday.

I looked over at him and rested my hand against his chest.

Caspian brushed the dampness beneath my eyes. “What I can promise is that I’m gonna keep doing everything I can to be here… for you, for Kaidence, for Cassiane. I love you, Mrs. Black.”

Mrs. Black.

That name still did something to me.

A month after the Halloween party, Caspian and I had gotten married in the only way two people in our situation possibly could—in our own crazy, slightly supernatural way. There was no courthouse, no marriage license, and definitely no explaining to the state how a man who had been legally declared dead planned on signing paperwork. On paper, nothing had changed… to us, everything had.

We had the ceremony right there at home with the small circle of people who knew the truth about Caspian and mattered enough to be part of it. Henrietta was there, Granny, Willow, and Terrence. Kaidence, of course, who took his job as part of the wedding entirely too seriously and spent half the ceremony reminding everybody that his daddy was marrying his mommy.

Oh, and Miss Veda, who officiated, because apparently, if a ghost was going to marry the love of his life six years after being murdered, it only made sense for another spirit to stand up front and pronounce us husband and wife.

So no, there had been no hundred-person guest list, no fancy venue, and no reception full of strangers. Just the people who mattered, standing inside the home Caspian had always meant for us to share while I married the man I had once believed I would never see again.

And despite how unconventional the whole thing was, Caspian and I had treated it like the real thing because, to us, it was. I wore a wedding gown, got my hair done, makeup done, bought a flower bouquet… the whole nine. Caspian wore a tux and looked so damn good in it that I briefly forgot I was supposed to be listening to Miss Veda instead of staring at my almost-husband.

We said vows and even exchanged rings. I cried and Henrietta cried harder. Willow cried, denied crying, then threatened anybody who mentioned that she had cried. And when Miss Veda finally told Caspian he could kiss his bride, that man kissed me long enough for Granny to clear her throat and Kaidence to announce that we were “doing too much.”

Our marriage might not have been recognized by the state, but I was that man’s wife, and he was my husband, and nobody in that house needed a piece of paper to tell us otherwise.

I wrapped my arms around Caspian as best I could without squashing the baby between us.

“Daddy?”

Caspian closed his eyes briefly before turning toward Kaidence. “What’s up, son?”

“You ready to play the game now?”

I burst out laughing.

Caspian stared at him. “Boy, I just came downstairs.”

“You said you was gonna play.”

“I know what I said. Give me a few minutes.”

Kaidence sighed with the full exhaustion of a child who had apparently been forced to wait years instead of sixty seconds, then his attention shifted toward the baby.

“Can I hold her?”