Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Sienna
The officiant’s voice rings out clear and warm across the pavilion, with the ocean providing a gentle, steady backdrop.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Aria and Ethan turn to each other, both beaming with tears in their eyes. Ethan cups Aria’s face with both hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as if she’s the most precious thing he’s ever held. They kiss—slow, deep, full of every promise they’ve made to each other over the years.
The entire pavilion erupts in cheers and applause. Whistles cut through the air, and someone shouts, “Finally!” Laughter ripples through the guests. I clap along with everyone, my hands almost numb from how hard I’m clenching them, but my eyes keep drifting across the aisle.
To Milo.
He’s looking right at me with that bright, unguarded smile I’ve come to crave—the one that reaches his eyes and makes the gray seem softer, warmer.
Aria and Ethan break apart, foreheads still pressed together for a second, both laughing through happy tears. Then they turn and begin their walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, hand in hand, glowing in the golden sunlight.
The guests stand as they pass, clapping and cheering. Milo steps forward and offers me his arm. I link mine through his without hesitation, my fingers curling around his bicep. He’s warm and solid, and the simple contact sends a spark up my arm that settles in my chest.
“Ready?” he asks quietly, that smile still playing on his lips.
“Lead the way, Mr. Wet-Pants-Wonder,” I tease, bumping my shoulder lightly against his as we start walking.
He chuckles. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope. It’s too good,” I grin, squeezing his arm. “Besides, it’s how we met, so I have to honor the origin story.”
We’re a few steps down the aisle when I glance up at him again. His profile is sharp in the sunlight—strong jaw, stubble growing along it, and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. I can’t stop looking.
“You know,” I whisper, leaning in so only he can hear. “Those diamonds you gave me keep catching the light. Every time I move, I feel like I’m sparkling. People are going to start asking questions soon.”
Milo’s hand covers mine on his arm, his thumb gently brushing my knuckles. “Good. Let them question. They should know you’re mine.”
My heart does a little flip. “Yours, huh? Bold claim, Milo.”
“Very bold,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm against my ear. “And very true.”
We reach the end of the aisle, and the wedding coordinator is already waving us toward the photo area. Milo doesn’t let go of my arm right away. Instead, he turns to face me fully, his free hand brushing a curl behind my ear, fingers lingering on the diamond stud he’d placed there earlier.
“These look even better on you than I imagined,” he says softly, his eyes tracing the necklace resting against my collarbone. “You’re breathtakingly beautiful, Sienna.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “You’re going to make me blush. And I never blush.”
“That’s the plan.” His grin turns mischievous. “I like you flushed and a little flustered. It’s a good look on you.”
Before I can fire back, the coordinator calls our names for the group photos. We join the rest of the wedding party—Aria and Ethan in the center—smiling for what feels like a hundred photos. After the group photos, the photographer pulls Aria and the bridesmaids aside, then Ethan and the groomsmen.
Once the last family shots are done, Aria and Ethan slip away hand-in-hand for their private portraits on the beach. The rest of the wedding party starts to scatter until only Milo and I are left.
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me, a smile tugging at his lips. Then he reaches out, his fingers brushing mine before he gently tugs me toward him. His hands cup my face with a tenderness that makes my breath catch.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It’s soft at first, almost reverent, like he’s savoring the moment he’s held back from all day.
But it quickly deepens. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head as his mouth moves against mine with growing hunger.
I melt into him, fingers curling into the front of his tux as I kiss him back just as passionately.
The world fades until there’s only the heat of his mouth, the solid strength of his body pressed against mine, and the way he tastes like forever.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathless. His forehead rests against mine, our noses brushing.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for hours,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and rough with desire. “Every time I looked at you in that dress… I could barely think straight.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, my heart hammering so loudly I’m sure he can feel it. “Kiss me again.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. This time, the kiss is deeper and more urgent.
One of his hands glides down the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, while the other stays tangled in my curls.
I rise onto my toes, pouring everything I feel into the kiss—want, joy, and that terrifying, wonderful hope.
When we break apart again, my lips feel swollen and tingly. Milo’s eyes are darker now, his pupils blown wide, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks.
“God, I’m never going to get enough of you,” he whispers, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “You’re going to ruin me, Sienna Harlow.”
I smile, leaning into his touch to steal one more quick, lingering kiss before we reluctantly head back to the pavilion.