Chapter 44
The wedding planner slips away for a quick break, leaving Max and Lila alone in a space that looks more like an art gallery than an office, with its soaring ceilings and windows that flood it in natural light.
Somewhere, soft instrumental music hums from hidden speakers.
A long marble table stretches through the center of the room, where fabric swatches and ribbon samples are displayed like art rather than materials.
They sit by a window, the table before them covered in portfolios filled with editorial photos, hand-painted sketches, and embossed menu cards. The atmosphere is meant to inspire, yet all she feels is pressure closing in around her.
Her fingers drum a restless rhythm against the back of a cake designer’s portfolio.
Deep down, nothing feels right, and the words climb up her throat before she can swallow them back.
“I don’t know about this whole wedding thing,” she says quietly, almost to herself.
“What do you mean?” Max asks beside her. His voice stays even as he turns another page in a design portfolio filled with venue floor plans and lighting options.
Though the estimated guest list is already climbing into the hundreds and the thought of entertaining so many strangers feels daunting, it isn’t the wedding itself that bothers her.
“Let’s just elope,” she murmurs slowly, as if testing the words.
They feel selfish after weeks spent pretending to care about pretty dresses, tablescapes, and floral installations.
She knows Max has been genuinely excited for this chapter of their lives, carving out time from his busy schedule to plan with her.
She suspects he’s enjoying this more than he's letting on, and it brings her joy to see him pore over the little details.
Still, she cannot deny how drained she feels, her mind slipping away from color palettes and floral samples and drifting somewhere far darker and more tiring than all of this.
All this planning has only made her brood over how her grandmother is doing, especially whenever she remembers the glaringly empty list of potential guests on her side.
Their relationship, her last remaining link to her late mother, had deteriorated sharply after the New Year, leaving behind a constant, hollow ache.
“You just don’t care,” her grandmother had nagged during one call. “If you did, you’d come back to help me run this damn place. When your family needs help, you help. Plain and simple. But you’re a selfish, selfish child.
“If your boyfriend truly loves you, he would understand why you need to come home. He looks like he can afford to visit you more often than that other boy ever did,” she had argued in another.
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want to run a bakery?” Lila had retorted, her words coming out sharp from her boiling anger. “That maybe I am my own person and not an extension of you?
“You also never gave me a clear answer about what Uncle Sean meant by what he said. Stop dodging it.”
“You are the one changing the subject. I need you here,” her grandmother had shot back.
“I can’t believe this. I brought you in, clothed you, fed you, worked my butt off in the bakery you hate so much to get you into a good school, and this is how I am thanked!”
The memory of their last phone conversation feels hazy, as if her body has been trying to erase it. She looks down at the glossy cake sketches, unable to imagine celebrating anything while she feels this way.
She nervously closes the folder and looks over at Max.
“Answer me... What do you think?”
“And risk my mother’s wrath for skipping the once-in-a-lifetime wedding of her only son?” Max looks up to meet her eyes, his gaze so intense it makes her nerves spike. He leans toward her, presses a soft, brief peck to her lips, and whispers, “Sounds fun. Let’s do it.”
She lets out a small laugh as he drops the portfolio onto the table.
He brings her face closer, pressing a deeper kiss onto her soft lips, a smothering kiss meant to drag every wandering thought back to him. His heart aches for her because he has a good guess at why she does not want one. Still, the realization leaves him feeling wistful.
Max planned their wedding day for months, long before she accepted his proposal.
He pictured her in silk charmeuse, delicate Chantilly lace layered over it—an intricately designed gown that would cling to her in all the places he knows best. Her face framed by the sweeping cathedral-length veil, the family heirloom worn by every Cooper bride.
A piece that would mark her as his own Mrs. Cooper.
He dreamed of her smile and the way her gaze would stay locked on him as she walked down the aisle—steady, unblinking—as if he were the only person in her world.
“You’re so spoiled,” he says as he leans back. He brushes her hair away from her face, his touch careful and intentional. She smiles sweetly up at him, grateful that he has once again eased her worries.
A few weeks later, on a secluded island near Fiji, a quiet ceremony finishes as the sun sets, its warm glow fading over the cool blue water as the sky turns pink-violet.
“You’re mine officially now,” Lila whispers in his ear after the officiant has walked away. “Forever.”
“Forever,” he agrees. His eyes move to her veil. The delicate hand-embroidered lace lifts in the breeze, as if acknowledging its true place with his bride.
An hour later, he stands just outside their overwater bungalow, scrolling through his phone and answering a few emails.
His new wife has forbidden him to turn around.
She would be annoyed if she knew what he was working on their wedding day, but she is busy behind him, occupied with something that sounds increasingly frantic.
He can hear her scurrying around in a slight panic, moving back and forth across the bedroom that opens to a broad sweep of ocean.
The sounds tug the corners of his mouth into a smile. He lifts his gaze toward the ocean water and the darkening sky, letting the quiet beauty settle over him.
Despite their wedding being far from the grand affair Max once imagined, he is elated. He just married his favorite person in the world, and that is all that matters.
“Lila, I’m turning around,” he teases, slipping his phone into his pocket.
“WAIT! HOLD ON,” she shouts.
“I’m counting down...”
“No!”
“Five… four…” he calls, chuckling as her hurried scuffling grows louder and more frantic.
“NO!”
Finally, he is allowed to turn around, only to be blown away by the sight of her.
The sheer curtains drift lazily with the breeze, and the warm lights hanging above her glow softly against her skin as she kneels on the king-sized bed, the path to it covered in rose petals.
She has slipped out of her wedding dress and is now wearing a delicate white lace lingerie set with sheer thigh-high stockings held up by garters.
Resting on her head is still the veil, its train spilling down her back and pooling around her like a pale shroud. The sight strikes him with a fierce, possessive ache.
“You rushed me!” she jokingly complains.
“You look like you could devour me with a single look, Mrs. Cooper.”
“Watch it, mister. I’m married,” she teases, lifting her hand to show off her ring. The large diamond catches the light around it, sparkling as she wiggles her fingers.
“I’m not sure I should still be wearing this, but I have a feeling you like it more than I do… so I guess another hour or so won’t hurt,” she says with a quiet laugh, playing with a section of the veil.
He crosses the room in a heartbeat and presses her down against the bed, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along her skin, starting at her collarbone and moving lower.
Her breath catches each time his lips brush a new point of warmth.
The silky fabric of her lingerie contrasts with the soft give of the mattress beneath them, and the veil’s long train shifts with her movements as she tilts her head back.
“Matt and his wife are probably seething right now,” Max says with a wry smile, remembering how reluctant they had been to hand it over, insisting it was too soon for them to be married and trusted with an heirloom. “I nearly had to pry it out of her hands.”
“Your mom said it would look better on me anyway,” she giggles, then whispers in his ear, “They can have it back later.”
In that moment, everything becomes clear to him.
It never mattered whether there had been an audience to admire her, a designer gown worth a small fortune, or a massive venue filled with people he barely cared about.
None of it compares to this sight. She lies beneath him in delicate lace, cheeks flushed from excitement, eyes glowing with mischief and love.
She looks completely free, unburdened, and impossibly beautiful.
The realization settles deep in his chest. This is what he wants.
This is what matters. They chose each other, and that is enough.
“It’s yours now, sweetie—let’s get into the honeymoon part,” Max whispers. He brushes his mouth over her clavicle before kissing her bare shoulder. One hand slips to the satin corset’s strap, pulling it down with a gentle, lingering touch that makes her shiver beneath him.
The next morning, the sky is a perfect blue above them as they swim and splash beneath the bungalow.
“Ah, I think this is the best I can do, Max,” Lila sputters, spitting out a mouthful of salty water after yet another failed attempt at doggy-paddling. “That was gross!” She makes a dramatic show of retching, which causes Max to laugh. “I guess you’ll have to dive by yourself.”
“Nonsense. You have a full year to learn. The penguins on the Galapagos Islands are waiting to swim with you.”
“And the sharks,” she says, playfully pouting.
“Especially the sharks,” Max chuckles. “Here. Let me help you,” he says, positioning himself behind her so he can hold her by the torso. “You need to kick with your hips.”
It feels like paradise. Just the two of them on what seems like a private island, with no one in sight for most of the day. The resort staff exists only in the background, setting up meals and maintaining the pristine rooms, but rarely appearing. They are left almost entirely alone with each other.
For most people, being glued to one other person with no one else to talk to might be maddening. For Lila and Max, it is precisely what they want.
Fucking under the open sun in the early morning, with the warm rays on their skin, had been a fantastic experience, but what Lila enjoys most so far is when he took her beneath the stars the night before.
The vast sky, scattered with endless points of light, made their special day feel even more significant.
Their time beneath the moon had been raw, intimate, and consuming.
Wading toward the beach now, she sighs, feeling overcome with happiness and a sense of pride at her progress with learning how to swim.
Sure, she managed to pull Max under the water with her once or twice, but surely that happens to everyone who is just starting.
“How’s Biscuit doing?” she asks.
“Really great. Being pampered at home like a princess.”
“Do you think she misses us?”
“No,” Max says flatly.
Lila laughs, shaking her head. “I think she misses us. At least she’s probably missing me.”
“She’s a mean, eleven pounds of matted fur we pulled from a shelter. She doesn’t miss anyone.”
“I still think she’s missing me.”
“Don’t you even think for a second you’re leaving this island until I am ready, Mrs. Cooper,” Max growls playfully, wrapping her in his strong embrace. He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. What if we stay here?”
Lila turns to face him, lacing her fingers behind his neck as she pulls him closer, her lips brushing his. “I can cook if you’re the one farming the potatoes,” she whispers against his salty skin. “Biscuit can herd the farm animals.”
“Let’s think about it,” Max says, grinning widely.
“I love you, Max,” she says.
“More than Biscuit?”
She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Are you jealous of our dog? But she’s our baby.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, I love you just a tiny, tiny bit more than Biscuit. Just a sliver, though.”
Max laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy as he looks down at her. “I’ll take that.”
Something shifts in his expression then, the laughter settling into something more serious, more certain.
“I love you too,” he murmurs. “You’re my everything.”
THE END