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“I love you, Zayn Thomas.”
“I love you, Selene Thomas.”
Her eyes widen, and a breathless laugh slips between us.
“Not yet…”
“Soon,” I say with a grin, raising my good hand. “Welcome to our wedding.”
That’s when our families appear from every direction, accompanied by Thalia’s team, who organized the entire event, along with the photographers, cameramen, and security.
And standing in front of us now is the officiant.
“What?” she asks, her eyes widening all over again. “Now?”
I only nod, smiling mischievously.
With her hand resting over mine, I slide the ring fully onto her finger.
And the ceremony officially begins.
The ceremony that makes her mine.
Forever.
Fucking finally.
SIXTY-SIX
Selene
“Selene Thomas.”
Zayn’s voice cuts through the noise from behind me.
I turn slowly, my heels sinking slightly into the grass, and warmth spreads through my chest the instant my eyes land on him.
He’s standing a few feet away, surrounded by all his brothers, still wearing his groom’s suit. The ivory shirt beneath his jacket is slightly wrinkled now, his tie loosened enough to show how long this night has already been, yet he looks even better now. Less polished. More real.
Entirely mine.
A glass of whiskey rests loosely in his hand, and he watches me with that smug, devastating smirk I know far too well.
The expression of a man utterly satisfied with himself.
Satisfied because I’m officially his wife.
Because my name is Thomas now.
The realization doesn’t feel entirely real.
His gaze drags slowly over me, filled with desire and possession, but there’s something deeper beneath it—raw enough to make my stomach tighten.
“I love you,” he says loudly, not giving a damn who hears him.
Several heads nearby turn toward us at once.
An emotional laugh slips past me.
