Chapter 31
thirty-one
. . .
Marco
The Botanical Conservatory was in full bloom. The air was heavy with the perfume of a thousand exotic blossoms.
It was the perfect setting for the annual Green Gala, a lavish charity event benefiting the conservatory’s educational programs. Normally, planning this event would fall squarely under Meghan’s purview. But after the scandal of our relationship hit the society pages, she’d been unceremoniously booted from the organizing committee.
Not that it stopped her from attending, of course. Meghan was never one to shy away from a challenge. If anything, the snub had only fueled her determination to show up and prove that she was more than the salacious headlines.
I spotted her across the atrium, fucking stunning in a shimmering green dress. Wick stood at her side, an arm around her waist. He looked devastating in a tailored black tux that showcased his broad shoulders and slender hips. They made a striking pair, all sleek lines and effortless glamor.
My stomach flipped as I watched them, a familiar tangle of longing and insecurity rising in my throat. Even after everything we’d been through, I still sometimes felt like an outsider looking in on their perfect little world. A satellite orbiting twin suns.
I took a deep breath, smoothing a hand down the front of my own tux. Now was not the time for self-doubt. We were here to make a statement, to show the world that our love was real, valid, and unshakeable. I gave myself a mental shake and crossed the room to join my partners.
Meghan’s face lit up when she saw me. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in the orchid room.”
“And miss the chance to show off my hot dates? Never.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek, breathing in the delicate scent of her perfume.
Wick’s eyes met mine over her head, a silent current of understanding passing between us. We were in this together, no matter what.
As if on cue, a hush fell over the atrium as Veronica Sinclair took the stage, tapping the mic to get everyone’s attention. Meghan stiffened beside me, her smile wavering. Veronica had been one of the loudest voices calling for her removal from the committee.
“Welcome, everyone, to the fifteenth annual Green Gala,” Veronica trilled. “We’re so thrilled to have you all here to support the conservatory’s mission of education and outreach.” She paused, her gaze finding Meghan in the crowd. “Of course, this event would not have been possible without the tireless efforts of our volunteer committee.”
The jab landed, and Meghan let out a bitter laugh.
As Veronica’s speech droned on, I held Meghan’s hand. Wick stood behind us, one arm wrapped around Meghan's waist, hand splayed pointedly across her stomach, the other hand resting on my shoulder. We remained united, ignoring the whispers and looks. With each passing moment, the tension eased, replaced by a sense of giddy defiance.
The rest of the evening passed in a happy haze of clinking champagne flutes and laughter-filled conversations. More than a few curious glances and whispers followed us as we mingled, but Meghan held her head high, Wick and I flanking her like an honor guard.
Let them talk. We had nothing to hide, and everything to celebrate.
As the gala wound down, Meghan snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and pulled us into a quiet alcove, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I have to say, for a party I didn’t plan, this didn’t totally suck,” she declared, handing us each a flute. “I mean, the canapés were a little bland, and who chose this color scheme? But all in all, not bad.”
Wick snickered, taking a sip of his champagne. “Careful, babe. You’re going to inflate Veronica’s ego if she hears you complimenting her event.”
“Ugh, you’re right.” Meghan shuddered theatrically. “Forget I said anything. This party was a disaster and we all know it.”
We laughed and clinked our glasses. The bubbly fizzed pleasantly on my tongue. I was surrounded by the two people I loved most in the world. Everything was right with the world. The sneers, the sideways glances—none of it mattered. I raised my glass again. “To us. To love. And to telling the haters to fuck right off.”
“Hear, hear,” Wick said, slipping his free arm around my waist .
Meghan giggled, leaning into me. “You two. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m sure as hell not letting go.”
“Good,” I murmured, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Because this right here? This is forever, gattina. No take backs.”
And as we sipped our champagne in our hidden little corner of the conservatory, I knew it was true. This love, this bond between the three of us—it was forever. No amount of time could make anyone stop loving their soulmate—or, soulmates.
So, you might as well surrender.