Chapter 25 Emma
“Are you nervous?” I ask Lauren inside her hotel room.
“No, should I be?”
Here we go—Lauren and her need to adapt to social expectations.
“No, not if you’re sure.” I brush her hair over her shoulder—hair so similar to mine—and she looks radiant.
But I can’t help feeling dim today. There’s a knot in my stomach I can’t untangle. Luca’s family is going to be here—specifically Thomas Walker, the man I swore I’d never see again. But life loves its little plot twists. Who would’ve thought Lauren and Silas would end up getting married?
“Thanks for being here. Mom isn’t here yet, and I’m kind of lost. How was your flight?”
“Oh, you know… flights are…” Ugh, I hate lying to my sister. “Boring.”
Lauren takes my hands in hers and gives them a light squeeze. “Em, what’s going on? You seem… off. Is this a Luca thing again?”
I pull my hands back and walk to the single-seater next to the window. It’s a soft seafoam green, and beside it sits a tiny table with a massive bouquet in a crystal vase. Of course Silas would book the best hotel in all of Manhattan.
“That theory died years ago, you know?” Lauren always thought Luca drained me—that he sucked all the energy out of me.
What she doesn’t know is that I was the one who did that.
“It’s just been a couple of long weeks”—of sex—“and I’m a little tired.
But don’t worry. Today I’m your slave until you marry Silas and officially become his slave… ”
“Emma!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Tell me, what do you need me to do?”
Lauren sits on the matching chair across from me.
She’s not in her dress yet, but her makeup and hair are done.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.
Silas hired a wedding planner, and she’s taking care of everything.
” She shrugs, visibly bored. “I haven’t seen him since last night. I miss him.”
I smile because she looks confused. In Lauren-logic, missing someone after less than twenty-four hours probably makes zero sense. But for me? Totally relatable. Luca and I parted ways at the hotel two hours ago, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
“That’s a good sign, sis.” I squeeze her hand.
I’ve never seen her like this with anyone else. And even if Silas wouldn’t be my first choice, if she’s happy, then so am I.
We spend the afternoon catching up. Silas sends over a bottle of champagne with a handwritten letter that makes Lauren blush. I wisely choose not to ask what it says.
At seven, the wedding planner storms in, heels clacking against the tile like gunfire.
She nearly faints when she catches us giggling on the couch, champagne flutes in hand, lipstick smudged from laughing too hard.
Her eyes bulge, hands flying to her temples, and then she snaps—borderline feral—ordering us to get dressed immediately.
We scramble like guilty teenagers, still stifling laughter as she flutters around, tugging zippers and adjusting veils.
The ceremony itself is breathtaking. Golden light spills through the tall windows, catching on the crystal chandeliers and casting halos across the aisle.
Silas’s eyes shine the second he sees Lauren appear, his usual cool slipping as his lips part in awe.
That look calms me—it says everything words never could.
Luca stands at his side, jaw strong, posture sharp, though I notice the small exhale he lets out as Lauren draws closer. Killian and Oliver flank him, identical green eyes scanning the room, each brother holding their own kind of steady.
I stand just behind Lauren, close enough to catch the tremble in her hands as she clutches her bouquet. I smooth the train of her dress when it pools awkwardly, my palm lingering for reassurance. Just in case she needs me.
Luca gives me those cold, practiced looks—the ones meant to dismiss me—but his eyes don’t lie. They drag down the length of me, lingering shamelessly on the dress that clings in all the right places. I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.
His gaze smothers me, ignites me, makes promises I know he’ll keep.
They say I do, ride off to the hotel for the reception, and the families file out in a polished line of black cars. Somehow, I end up in one with the three Walker brothers.
Do I need to say it’s awkward?
Oliver’s at the wheel, broad shoulders stiff, both hands gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping.
Luca takes shotgun, his profile cut sharp against the passing city lights.
I’m directly behind Oliver, and Killian’s beside me, sprawled with one ankle over his knee, phone glowing in his hand.
No one says a word.
The silence is thick, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional blare of a horn outside. Oliver’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, narrowing every time they land on me, like I personally offended his ancestors. His jaw works, tight enough I can almost hear his teeth grind.
I sink into the leather seat, watching the city smear past the window, but the weight of their energy presses in, suffocating.
“Oliver,” Luca says suddenly, his tone too casual, like he’s trying to defuse a bomb. “How’s the livestock?”
Oliver doesn’t even blink. The car halts at a red light, and his glare finds me in the mirror again. “No.”
Luca frowns. “No?”
“Don’t try to lighten the mood. She can handle it.” His voice is a growl, low and steady. “Right, Emma?”
I shift, my fingers twisting in the hem of my dress. “Just pretend I’m not here,” I mumble, wishing I could melt into the seat.
“Not hard.” Killian doesn’t even glance up from his phone, his thumbs moving lazily over the screen. “We’ve done that before.”
The words land like a slap. My throat tightens, and I sink lower into the leather, trying to disappear while Luca sits forward in his seat, shoulders taut, silent but seething.
“Alright, let’s cut the hostility,” Luca snaps. “It’s Silas’s wedding, for fuck’s sake. Behave.”
There’s the Luca I know.
No one says a word the rest of the drive. When we finally arrive at the hotel, I’m the first one out of the car. The Walker brothers linger inside for a moment longer.
I can practically hear Luca scolding them before they step out.
When I walk into the grand ballroom where the party awaits, I go straight to my parents and spend time with them until the bride and groom appear.
Then we all take our seats at our assigned tables.
The whole family sits at the long table—my parents, Luca’s parents, and all the brothers.
Luca sits beside me, while his two brothers sit across from us.
They speak to each other, and Luca tries to include me in the conversation, but I can't break through the wall the younger Walkers have put up.
“Emma,” Luca calls, “did you know Oliver lives in Dallas?”
“Oh,” I pretend to be surprised, “that’s nice. Do you like it?”
Oliver takes a full sip of wine and downs the entire glass. “Yes.”
“He has a ranch. With animals and gardens.”
Dear God, spare me from this torture. “How… interesting.”
Oliver was never very vocal—more quiet and solitary—but tonight he seems possessed by some demon that’s launching missiles through his eyes.
“I… I’m going to the bathroom,” I say, getting up and hurrying away from the table. I need to breathe.
And that’s exactly what I do. There’s a whole section of the hall with little rooms full of couches, coffee, and books. A place to retreat from the event if you need to. Maybe Silas had it arranged for Lauren and her need for calm during big events, even her own wedding.
I step in as soon as I see it’s empty and close the door behind me. I sink into a black couch and take a deep breath. When I finally start to feel the tension leaving my body—
I hear the door. I already know who it is.
“Luca, I really don’t want to—” I turn around and stop cold.
It’s not Luca Walker. It’s Thomas Walker.
“Oh.”
“Emma,” Thomas says. He looks terribly similar to Silas—well, the other way around—but I’m only now seeing it in this light.
Thomas walks in and pours himself a coffee, but doesn’t sit next to me. He leans against the wall and watches me with the same intensity Oliver used all night. “Are you enjoying the party?” he asks.
Did I mention my body just tensed up again? No? Well, it did. “Yes, it’s all very lovely.” I swallow hard.
“I’m glad… glad to hear that.” He looks at the floor pensively. “Did you see Luca?”
“I did.” I smile, lips pressed tight.
“Then I imagine you’re feeling at ease.”
“At ease?”
“Yes, to see that I was right. Luca deserved someone better, Emma. Don’t get me wrong—you’re a good girl. But Luca needed more. In fact, I did you a favor. I spared you years of pain. It’s clear he was always going to want more in life than just a simple artist.”
My lips stop smiling, but I still don’t say anything. Thomas Walker always knew just what to say to cut deep.
He continues, “From what I hear, he’s about to propose to his girlfriend. A Victoria’s Secret model. They say she’s the next Gisele Bündchen.”
Not only does he insult me—he lies to my face. Breathe, Em. Breathe.
He laughs.
“What are you laughing at, Thomas?”
“I’m just remembering the day I caught you on your way to the church. The panic on your face when you saw me on your doorstep. I still don’t understand how you thought I wouldn’t find out about that ridiculous idea.”
“You mean the day you terrified an eighteen-year-old girl? That day?” I stand and walk toward him. “The day you threatened to leave my family on the street? The day you doomed both of us to a miserable life?”
“Come on, Emma. A father does impossible things for his son. You can’t blame me for stepping in. You were kids. You didn’t know what marriage meant. You didn’t know anything about life!”
“We loved each other. That’s all we knew, Thomas.” My throat tightens, like it’s being squeezed by a venomous snake. My voice comes out warped. “For years, I lived in fear for my family. I was terrified just thinking about him.”
“Emma.”
My body freezes. I turn and see Luca standing under the doorway.
His eyes are full of pain, but his body is tense. “Leave. I need to talk to my father.”
“Luca…” I walk toward him.
“Don’t come any closer, please. Just go.” He raises his hand, stopping me in my tracks.
Oh no. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. I was supposed to avoid Thomas! I nod and walk past him to leave the room. But before I go, I whisper, “Don’t fight with him. He’s not worth it.”
Luca’s eyes meet mine—hard, cold, severe. A different Luca than the one I woke up with this morning. “Get out of here, Emma.”
My stomach drops. I’ve never heard that tone from him before. Panic rises. Fear. Dread. I retreat from his black and red aura and run to my room.