32. Margot
32
MARGOT
T he sun filters through the massive windows of the ballroom, casting a warm glow over the extravagant floral arrangements of white roses and delicate peonies, their fragrance drifting through the air. Rows of elegantly dressed guests sit in gold-accented chairs, murmuring excitedly as the ceremony begins. Crystal chandeliers sparkle above, reflecting warm golden hues over the polished marble floors. The air is thick with anticipation, the kind that lingers before a momentous occasion, a collective hush settling over the crowd as the first notes from the string quartet drift through the air.
The altar is framed by towering floral arches, soft candlelight flickering in the background. Tessa walks down the aisle with a radiant smile, her gown catching the light like spun silk. The fitted bodice accentuates her elegant frame, while the flowing skirt trails behind her like a cloud, delicate lace details shimmering under the golden light. A soft veil cascades down her back, blending seamlessly into her hair. She looks like something out of a dream, effortless and stunning. Elliot stands tall at the altar, but his nerves betray him. His custom-tailored tuxedo is sharp, a classic black suit with an ivory silk tie that complements Tessa’s dress perfectly, but the slight tremor in his hands gives away his emotions. Even from here, I can see the way he looks at her, as if nothing else in the world exists but the woman walking toward him. His jaw tightens, his throat bobs as he swallows hard, blinking rapidly like he's trying not to completely lose it. The energy in the room shifts, a deep, palpable warmth settling over the guests. A love story reaching its long-awaited climax.
As I watch them, I squeeze Grayson’s hand, feeling his warmth seep into me. This wedding, this moment, it’s not just theirs. It’s a reminder of all the roads that led us here, of how love finds its way, even through the most unexpected twists.
I stifle a smirk as Elliot shifts nervously at the altar. His posture is stiff, his eyes wide with a sort of panicked awe. Tessa, meanwhile, looks effortlessly stunning, her gown flowing like something out of a fairy tale, serene, confident, and just a little bit smug.
Grayson leans in, voice low in my ear. “Fifty bucks says Elliot cries before the vows are done.”
I arch a brow. “You think he’s going to make it that far? He looks ready to crack now.”
Right on cue, Elliot clears his throat, blinking rapidly. I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. Tessa leans in and whispers something to him, and even from here, I can practically hear the sarcasm. His shoulders relax the second she smiles at him.
Grayson grins. “Remember when he told us he wanted tomarryher? After, like, two weeks?”
I chuckle. “I thought he was having a breakdown. Or testing a new matchmaking algorithm and now here we are. The disaster match turned dream couple.”
“We both thought we were going to have to pull them apart with a crowbar,” he laughs,
“And instead, we’re here,” Grayson adds, watching Elliot with a fond shake of his head. “He’s completely gone for her.”
“He made her a custom crossword proposal,” I murmur. “With clues that spelled out ‘Will you marry me?’”
Grayson snorts. “And she said yes even after he spelled croissant wrong.”
“The power of love,” I deadpan.
The ceremony continues, and when the officiant finally announces them as husband and wife, Elliot doesn’t even wait for permission. He just pulls Tessa in and kisses her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. The crowd erupts in cheers and laughter, and I find myself clapping along, warmth blooming in my chest.
Grayson nudges me. “Admit it. You’re getting sappy.”
I glance up at him, smirking. “I don’t do sappy.”
His hand tightens around mine, and his voice softens. “We’ll see about that.”
Hours later, beneath the glow of chandeliers and laughter-filled conversations, I find myself standing on the terrace, a glass of champagne in hand. The reception is in full swing, but I needed a moment to breathe.
Grayson finds me easily, slipping an arm around my waist. "Hiding?"
I lean into him. "Just taking it all in."
He hums, pressing a slow kiss to my temple. "I like the view from here."
I laugh softly. "Smooth, King."
"Always," he replies.
Before I can reply, he shifts, reaching into his pocket, and suddenly, I notice movement behind him. His family, his mother, his sister, a few cousins, are stepping onto the terrace, watching with quiet anticipation. It’s as if they already know what’s coming, and my heart pounds harder. My breath hitches as he pulls out a small velvet box and opens it, revealing a stunning ring that catches the light just right. My vision blurs slightly, emotions crashing over me in waves. Behind him, his mother covers her mouth, eyes glistening, while his sister clutches her heart, already tearing up and simultaneously taking rapid-fire photos on her phone. "Oh my God, this isperfect," she whispers, angling for the best shot. "I’m going to make an entire album called ‘Grayson Finally Gets His Shit Together.’". Even his normally stoic cousins look soft around the edges, as if witnessing something inevitable and beautiful. I freeze, my chest tightening with overwhelming emotion. "Grayson, what are you doing?" My voice is barely above a whisper, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
His voice is steady, his blue eyes locked onto mine. "We’ve fought for everything we have, and I don’t want to spend another second fighting against what’s been obvious for years."
A slow breath escapes me as my world narrows down to this moment. For a second, I thinkI didn’t see this coming. But the truth is, I did. Ifeltit. I felt it in the way my heart always raced when he walked into the room, in the way his voice could cut through the noise and calm me. I felt it in every late-night conversation, every accidental touch that lingered a beat too long, every time he looked at me like I was the only thing he saw. This wasn’t sudden. It had been building, quiet and steady, through every battle and every breakthrough. And now, staring at him, everything inside me settles. This isn’t a surprise. It’s a revelation. This is love. It always has been.
"Marry me, Evans. Let’s make it official."
A lump forms in my throat, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. There’s a lifetime of tension, of near-misses and almost-confessions, of stolen glances and silent wishes, all leading to this. He’s standing in front of me, offering me forever, and for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m bracing for a fall, I feel like I’ve landed exactly where I’m supposed to be. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just certainty.
I nod, a slow, radiant smile spreading across my face. "Yeah, King. Let’s make it official."
As he slides the ring onto my finger, his thumb grazing my knuckles like he’s sealing something sacred, I choke out a breathless laugh, tears blurring my vision. He cups my face in his hands, gently, like I’m something precious, and when his lips brush mine, it’s not just a kiss, it’s a promise. A beginning. A forever kind of moment.
The cheers of his family echo around us, distant and dreamlike, but all I can focus on is him, his touch, his warmth, the way his eyes never leave mine. This was never just about winning. It was never just a rivalry, or a business, or a game. This was always aboutus.
Then my phone buzzes in my purse. Once. Then again. I glance down.Eleanor.
I silence it without answering. Not now. Whatever it is, it can wait. Right now, there’s only this, his hands, his eyes, his smile. And a future I didn’t see coming.