Epilogue
They were married just over a year later, in April.
Camilla smoothed her hands down her dress, a mermaid-cut masterpiece in pure white. Her body had never looked better, but it was the moment when Marlon laid eyes on her from the other end of the aisle that she felt truly beautiful.
She was marrying the man of her dreams, and she couldn’t be happier. Her veil was nestled in her hair, falling all the way to the small train of her dress. White satin shoes completed the ensemble, along with a bouquet from Scarlett’s shop.
After she handed the bouquet off to Amelia, her maid of honor, she turned to face her soon-to-be husband.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” he said, eyes glazed. “You look incredible.”
She glanced over his wedding outfit, a crisp black tuxedo with a black bow tie. His beard was neatly trimmed, a few strands glimmering gray under the lights above. “Not so bad yourself.”
He grinned, and the ceremony began. In her vows, Camilla promised to start the coffee maker if she was up first and to keep him well-stocked with homemade baked goods. She promised to care for him the way he did her, and she thanked him for bringing her out of the shell she’d built for herself.
In return, Marlon told her he’d never stop loving her. He promised to always protect her, even when all she wanted to do was kick him in the face. That got a big laugh from the audience, and Camilla cackled through her happy tears.
His hands were warm as they clasped hers, and when he slid the wedding band onto her finger, Camilla felt whole in a way she hadn’t believed was possible. For the rest of her life, she’d have a partner in crime. A cuddle buddy. An accomplice. A carer, a lover, a husband.
Then they partied with all their family and friends. Camilla’s parents were there, and Scarlett took on the role of playing interference. As a result, Camilla exchanged pleasantries with them and was whisked away before any passive-aggressive comments could be made.
She would never have the relationship with her parents she’d always dreamed of having, but at least now there was a foundation of respect. As she tore up the dance floor—in shoes she’d thoroughly broken in at Marlon’s insistence—Camilla laughed and cried and felt her heart fill with joy.
She didn’t need to beg for scraps from her family; she’d found her own. With her friends, her employees, and with Marlon.
“Hello, husband,” she said, sitting across his lap as he sat at the head table, sipping from his wineglass.
Marlon’s hands slid along her waist and up her thighs. “Hello, wife,” he said, smiling. “How’s your day going?”
“I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.” Her palm coasted over his beard, her thumb brushing his lips. “You?”
“Funny,” he said, smiling, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
He kissed her, long and deep, and Camilla had never been happier.
On the other side of the room, Lucy gathered her courage as she prepared to do the one thing she didn’t want to do: ask a favor from Cormac McKenna.
He sat with his back to a wall, scanning the space with a calm yet ready gaze, like he could face anything that was thrown at him. Like a cake topper thief. Or a kidnapper.
Or, hopefully, an irate stationery man.
For the second year in a row, she’d be attending the Wedding Expo in Stirling, and she needed backup. Last year had been a disaster; she didn’t want a repeat of those events. She needed muscle.
Cormac’s eyes tracked her as she approached, but he didn’t move from his seat. His black tuxedo fit him perfectly, his bow tie slightly crooked at his neck. He sat with one ankle resting on his knee, his fingers wrapped around a green beer bottle.
Lucy came to a stop before him, looking into his dark-blue eyes. Her heart hammered as his gaze darted to her lips for a brief—so brief she wondered if she’d imagined it—moment. He said nothing.
Clearing her throat, Lucy stood straighter. “Cormac,” she began, “I need your help.”
He arched a brow. She wished he’d say something.
When he didn’t, Lucy let out a long breath. “The Stirling stationery man just declared war. I need backup.”
Cormac leaned forward, eyes sharp. “Backup? What kind of backup?”
“Well…” Lucy’s heart thumped. “The kind of backup that looks like…you.”
Want to find out what Marlon organized for Camilla’s birthday?