47. I Do, I Do, I Do
Chapter 47
I Do, I Do, I Do
MEGAN
T he sun is setting over the Hollywood Hills, casting a golden glow across our new home. A light breeze sways the white rose petals that line the stone pathway leading to the altar, where Hunter is waiting for me.
I take a deep breath, gripping my bouquet of cream-colored peonies and roses as I stand at the end of the aisle.
Lars is at my side, his broad frame steady, protective. The gruffness in his eyes softens as he looks at me. His reaction when I asked him to walk me down the aisle almost moved me to tears. When Parker disappeared from my life, I thought my one ally in this made family of ours was gone, but it turns out that Lars was always the true ally, and I’m so fortunate he agreed to be part of our big day.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod, but my heart is pounding.
Because this is it.
This is the moment where I promise forever to a man who has already given me everything—his loyalty, his love, and the family I never thought I’d have.
As I step forward, the small crowd of guests (most of whom I don’t know) quietly rises.
My eyes find Hunter’s immediately.
And suddenly, there is nothing else.
Not the quiet murmurs of our guests. Not the soft notes of the acoustic guitar playing in the background.
Just him.
Hunter stands at the altar, tall and imposing in his black-tailored tux, the sunlight catching in his stormy gray eyes.
Lord, he’s sexy.
He doesn’t smile—not yet. But his jaw tenses, and his fingers flex at his sides like he’s restraining himself from coming down the aisle and carrying me the rest of the way.
Deuce lets out a soft baby noise from Lena’s arms, and it makes Hunter’s lips twitch slightly. Deuce is wearing a onesie that looks like a tuxedo with cute little satin black booties to match. It was Lena’s idea to hold him at the altar so that he’d be a part of the ceremony, and then Ruby would take him upstairs to bed when it was time for the cocktail reception.
I finally reach Hunter, my man , placing my hand in his warm, calloused one.
Lars nods at Hunter before stepping aside, and unknown silent words are exchanged between them with just a look.
“I told you I’d get her here,” Lars eventually says with a rare smile.
Hunter smirks. “Appreciate it.”
Lars takes a seat next to his daughter Elsa, who Hunter flew into Los Angeles the day before yesterday. She’s a beautiful woman, and I can see genetic traces of Lars in her smile and expressive eyes.
Lena rocks Deuce gently, whispering something to him.
“He’s staring at you, Megan,” she says softly, looking down at my son. “Like he knows what’s happening.”
I blink back tears.
Because he is watching me.
Like he understands that this moment means something important.
Like he knows he came from love.
The officiant smiles, stepping forward. “We gather here today, under this beautiful sunset, to witness and celebrate the union of Hunter Middleton and Megan Taylor…”
I barely hear her words.
I’m too focused on Hunter.
On the way his thumb brushes over my knuckles, the way his eyes never leave mine.
And then, the officiant turns to me.
“Megan, your vows?”
I take a deep breath, gripping Hunter’s hands tighter.
“Hunter,” I begin, my voice steady but my heart racing.
“I never thought a love like this was possible for me. That I could find someone who sees me for everything I am and everything I’m not—and chooses me anyway.”
Hunter’s grip tightens.
I smile softly.
“You have changed my life in every way imaginable. You taught me what real love looks like—Not a love that hurts but a love that nurtures. And not the kind that fades or bends when things get hard, but the kind that stays and fights. ”
Hunter exhales sharply.
I swallow, emotion thick in my throat.
“I promise to love you fiercely, to stand beside you, to challenge you, and to protect what we’ve built together. I promise to be your partner in every sense of the word.”
Then I smirk slightly.
“And I promise to always pretend that you run the Blue Whiskey when everyone here knows that I’m the real boss of that place.”
A few guests chuckle. Some others clap.
Hunter lets out a small huff of amusement.
Then, the officiant nods toward him.
“Hunter, your vows?”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Megan,” he says, his voice low, steady.
“I was never supposed to love like this. Never supposed to let anyone in. And then you wrecked every single belief I had.”
A soft laugh escapes me.
His eyes darken with emotion.
“I have spent my entire life building walls. Walls offer protection. Walls are safe. But you tore them down without even trying, and now—I’ve never felt more protected.”
I feel a single tear slip down my cheek.
Hunter catches it with his thumb.
“You are the most infuriating, stubborn, breathtaking woman I have ever met. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how much I fucking love you.”
There’s not a dry eye in the crowd.
Especially mine.
The officiant clears her throat, trying to collect herself.
“May we have the rings?”
Vaughn hands Hunter my engagement ring, Christian hands him my diamond band, and Lena gives me his. I slide the platinum band onto his finger, feeling the weight of what this means.
“With this ring, I thee wed.”
Hunter does the same, his touch lingering.
“With this ring, I thee wed.”
Then the officiant grins.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Hunter doesn’t wait.
He cups my face and kisses me deeply, sealing his vow with a promise only we understand. The kiss isn’t tasteful like we practiced but somewhat lewd, considering it’s a sacred ceremony, but my guess is that everyone understands because when we’re finished, the crowd erupts in a loud cheer.
Deuce lets out a pleasant gurgle, and we both kiss him on the forehead, sealing our bond as a family even more.
The celebration moves to the terrace, string lights twinkling above us as our friends and family raise their glasses.
Vaughn is the first to toast.
“To Megan,” he says, lifting his glass. “For taming a fucking beast.”
Laughter fills the space.
Christian stands next, glancing at Lena briefly before speaking. “To Hunter, for finally accepting that love doesn’t make you weak—it makes you powerful.”
I squeeze Hunter’s hand, my chest tightening at his words.
Lena goes last, her eyes warm. “To my big brother and my best friend. May your love always be as powerful and exciting as it is now.”
Hunter smirks, pulling me closer. “Oh, don’t worry. It will be.”
Everyone laughs.
Several people come to our table and introduce themselves to me, but I realize I’ll never remember all their names except for one, Ben Pierre, since we spent a lot of time discussing his invitation during our prewedding negotiation.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Middleton. Thank you for including me in your celebration,” he says with a heavy Haitian accent.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Pierre. I’m glad you could join us.”
“May your union be blessed with many more sons.”
Or daughters , I think to myself, but I dare not correct him and thank him politely anyway.
After a moment, I look around, soaking in the moment—and then I see her.
Naomi.
She’s standing near the back, looking unsure, hesitant.
She looks good.
She has long goddess braids in her hair and is wearing a sparkly gold dress that complements her skin tone. I remember how she’s big on dressing for her undertones—she has warm ones, and mine are neutral. I remember because she taught me that.
I glance at Hunter, who is watching me carefully.
“You… invited her?” I whisper.
Hunter nods. “Figured it was time for you to decide how you wanted to handle it.”
I inhale deeply, trying to figure out what the hell I feel. Our last conversation wasn’t the best. I told her the ball was in her court, but now it’s in mine whether I wanted it to be or not.
I swallow, my fingers tightening around my champagne flute. A million emotions war inside me.
Anger.
Hurt.
Confusion.
Hope.
How dare she just pop up on the most important day of my life. I don’t care who flew her here. But then I think about Deuce, upstairs sleeping peacefully as his parents celebrate the second most important day of their lives (his birth being the first).
I have everything I’ve ever wanted now.
A home. A family. A man who loves me unconditionally.
And maybe… maybe that means I can afford to be a little bigger than my pain.
I let out a slow, measured breath. “I should probably go talk to her.”
Hunter arches a brow. “It can wait if you want.”
“Did you tell her that I asked you not to hurt her father?”
“No, she doesn’t know anything about that.”
I nod, setting my glass down. “Then, I think I want to talk to her.”
He presses a soft kiss to my temple, a silent reassurance, before releasing my hand.
I make my way toward her, weaving through the guests as I fight back the tightness in my chest. The moment Naomi sees me coming, she straightens, her big brown eyes wary but hopeful.
Neither of us speaks at first.
It’s… awkward as hell.
Finally, I sigh. “You came.”
Her lips press together for a beat; then, she gives a small nod. “I did.”
“You look good.”
“And you look great.”
I study her carefully, trying to read her. Trying to understand. I notice the subtle way her hands tremble. She’s nervous. Uncertain.
She’s never looked like this before.
Naomi has always been the bold one. The one who could walk into any room and own it.
But right now?
Right now, she looks like she’s waiting for me to tell her to leave.
And I realize…
She expects that I will.
“Hunter called you?” I ask after a moment.
A small, guilty smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. He did. And that plane he sent was something else.”
“Did he make you come?”
“Of course not, Megan. I wanted to.”
I exhale, my eyes flicking toward my husband—my husband—who is watching us from a distance, talking to Christian and Vaughn but keeping an eye on me like he always does.
He knows I’m a fighter.
But he also knows that I don’t need to keep fighting forever.
I turn back to Naomi, crossing my arms. “What do you want from me?”
She winces slightly at my bluntness. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I just… I wanted to be here. For you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Now?”
She lets out a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah. A little late, I know.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
She bites her lip, her expression serious now. “I was scared, Megan.”
I tilt my head. “Of what?”
She exhales heavily. “Of what it would mean to choose you over my father. There are serious consequences when you betray someone like him.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“But I did it,” she says quietly. “I left.”
My breath catches.
“You… left?”
She nods. “Gabriel—my husband—helped me. We, well, I … cut ties with my father. His relationship with him is a little more complicated.”
My chest tightens.
I don’t know what I expected from this conversation, but it wasn’t this.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“That’s… that’s big for you.”
She gives me a weak smile. “Yeah. It is.”
Another pause.
And then she whispers, “I’m sorry, Megan.”
For the first time tonight, my vision blurs.
I shouldn’t let this get to me. I should be stronger than this. But hearing her say it—finally, truly say it—it cracks something in me.
The anger starts to fade.
Not completely.
Not yet.
But a little.
Because I look at her and for the first time in a long, long time… I don’t see the girl who betrayed me. I see the girl I cried with, partied with, and sometimes prayed with. The girl who, despite everything, is still standing here, in front of me, trying to find a way back into my life.
And maybe…
Maybe I can finally let her.
“Okay,” I murmur.
Her brows knit together. “Okay?”
I nod.
“You’re here. And I guess that’s a start.”
Her breath shudders out of her like she wasn’t expecting that.
Like she’s been preparing herself for rejection.
I reach forward, hesitating for only a second before I touch her hand, squeezing it briefly.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful that I’ll get my friend back.
I walk back toward Hunter, my emotions a tangled mess.
He tilts his head, waiting.
“Well?” he asks as I step up to him.
I let out a slow breath. Then, finally—I smile.
“Thank you for not killing her father.”
His lips curve slightly. “You’re welcome.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be smug about it.”
He pulls me against him, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Wouldn’t dream of it, wifey.”
I smile against his chest.
“Come dance with me,” I say, pulling at his waist toward the temporary dance floor installed specifically for the reception.
“I don’t dance.”
“Everybody dances on their wedding day.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Megan Middleton. You know I can’t tell you no.”
“Exactly,” I laugh with reckless abandon. “So why bother trying?”