Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
sam
Three days later.
I wake up on my wedding day with the kind of calm that feels illegal to have.
I don’t feel anxious, I don’t feel the infamous cold feet the brides talk about. I’m not even overthinking anything. There’s no sudden urge to flee the country and live under a fake name. I just feel calm.
And then, the calm slips away when Rose bursts into my apartment like the FBI on a raid. “WAKE UP,” she screams, throwing open my curtains.
“IT’S WEDDING DAY!”
I sit up so fast my soul leaves my body. “Jesus Fucking Christ—Rose! I’m awake, and if I wasn’t, trust me, I would be now.”
She’s already holding two coffees and a garment bag, as if she’s running a tactical operation.
Which she is. My life is a constant tactical operation, or used to be.
Behind her, Elena strolls in with a bottle of champagne at nine in the morning like she’s a French widow with a secret lover.
I’ve seen her future, and it’s bright like that.
Harper follows, carrying a clipboard. Of course she is. And Naomi—well, she walks in last with the expression of someone attending court. Nothing strange there. She looks at me in my robe and messy hair and smiles faintly. “You look happy,” she says.
“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m learning how to be a sister,” she replies. That makes me smile because she really has been trying to be my sister. Rose claps her hands. “Okay! Timeline check! We have hair, makeup, dress, and an emotional breakdown scheduled at—”
“I’m not having an emotional breakdown,” I say.
Naomi lifts a brow. “Don’t lie on your wedding day, it’s bad luck.” That’s definitely not a thing. I glare at her. “I’m truly not lying. I’m okay.” Elena pours champagne into a coffee mug because she has no respect for early mornings.
“To Samantha,” she announces, raising it like a toast. “The woman who actually stole my brother's heart and made me gain a sister. Sorry, Naomi, she’s mine now.” We all laughed, and I could hear Naomi muttering “All yours” in the background.
Harper, without looking up from her clipboard, added, “I’m happy he has you now.”
“Harper, that was actually sweet!” I gasp. Harper finally looks up, expression completely calm. “I can be sweet.” Rose snorts. “Okay. Everybody breathe. Sam, do you have your vows?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have something borrowed?”
“I borrowed Naomi’s emotional stability.” Naomi doesn’t even blink. “That doesn’t count. Here.” She says as she gives me a pair of beautiful, elegant earrings. “I need them back intact. They cost more than our trust funds together.”
“What?” She laughs, “It’s a joke.” We all laugh, and I realize something terrifying.
I’m happy.
Not performatively happy. Not ‘smile for the cameras’, or ‘be a Hayes’, ‘be fine’, happy.
Really happy.
And that’s all because of him.
I get my makeup done while Rose narrates every step like she’s filming a documentary called How To Marry The CEO Of Your Dad’s Company. Naomi sits on my couch, sipping coffee, watching the chaos like she’s on a jury. “You’re quiet,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “I’m observing.”
“So, judging?”
“Always.” Elena leans over the back of the couch, her curls perfect, her eyes sparkling. “So,” she says, “are we excited?” I swallow. I think about Theo’s hands. Theo’s voice. Theo’s steady calm. Theo showed up for me in a hundred ways I didn’t know I needed. “I’m… yeah, I actually am,” I say.
That makes Rose tear up instantly. “Oh, my God.”
Harper sighs like she’s irritated by feelings.
“Don’t start crying, please. We don’t have time to redo our makeup.
” Naomi’s gaze softens. “Good,” she says quietly.
“This is the right kind of environment I need to be in.” We all get ready together, and our dresses are perfect.
I’m not a bridezilla, so I let them choose their own dresses.
Naomi is wearing a deep green dress with enough cleavage to set a boardroom on fire. Harper looks stunning in a burgundy dress. Rose always loved pink, so we settled on a dark one. And Elena is wearing a golden mustard dress that makes her look amazing.
I love these women.
A few hours later, we are all in a small rooftop garden, with warm lights, soft flowers, the city behind us like a quiet witness. With no spectacle, no press, and no performance.
Just us and the people we actually care about and love, besides my father and Susan.
Theo’s parents are here, his mom holding tissues like she’s already crying, his stepdad looking proud in that quiet, solid way.
They’re warm, easy, and when his mom sees me, she grabs my hands and whispers, “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” like she’s known me forever. I blink fast and smile. “Thank you.”
Theo is waiting at the front.
And the second I see him, everything else blurs.
He’s in a dark suit, no tie, as I ordered and he agreed. Everything looks so simple, he looks so relaxed, so happy, so him behind closed doors.
I’m so glad people can finally see the man I fell in love with. His eyes lock onto mine, and I swear the whole city goes quiet. No more hums, no more traffic noise, just quiet. Rose squeezes my hand before she walks me forward. “Don’t run,” she whispers. “I’m not going to run,” I whisper back.
“You ran from commitment for twenty-six years.”
“That’s not—okay, yes.” Naomi steps closer on my other side, her voice low. “You’re okay.”
I nod, throat tight. “I’m okay.”
While I appreciate my father being here, I didn’t want him to walk me down the aisle.
Not because of our work-in-progress relationship, but because I wanted to do it myself.
I’ve been independent my whole life, and if I was going to enter into marriage head over heels in love, I wanted to do it on my own.
When I start to walk, Theo’s gaze never leaves my eyes. Not once. When I reach him, he takes my hands as if he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. And maybe he has. I see his eyes shining. I hope he doesn’t cry because I will lose it.
The ceremony is simple. Romantic, but not in a cheesy rom-com type of romantic. No dramatic speeches, no overdone metaphors.
When it was time to say our vows, I was calm, happy, and excited, and then Theo said, “I choose you, in this life, and in any other to come.” his voice broke slightly. And I’m gone. No more calm, cool, collected, I’m a mess, and when it’s my turn, my hands shake, but I don’t let go of him.
“I spent most of my life running,” I say, voice soft. “Not because I didn’t want love. But because I didn’t think I deserved something that would stay with me.” Theo’s eyes shine, and I want to cry and laugh at the same time. “But you,” I whisper, “you don’t feel like a trap. You feel like home.”
His thumbs stroke over my knuckles as he whispers, “You are my home, Samantha.”
When we kiss, the whole rooftop erupts into cheers like we didn’t just do the most intimate thing two people can do in front of a small crowd.
Everything was perfect, and I just got married to the man of my dreams.
When we walk into the reception, I’m in awe of how warm it feels. And I’m not talking about temperature.
There are candles on every table, there’s good food, even better wine, and music low enough that people can actually talk and enjoy themselves.
I decided to change dresses because, while I wanted a small, intimate wedding, I also wanted to wear fashion statements and signature pieces. This dress is short, silky, and expensive, but I deserve it, and he deserves what’s underneath.
I’m halfway through my second glass of champagne when I see Nico. He’s leaning against the bar, smiling like trouble, and he’s watching Naomi like he’s decided she’s his next hobby. I can see that happening.
Good luck to him, though.
Naomi, naturally, looks like she’d rather swallow glass than flirt at my wedding. Nico slides up beside her, smooth as hell. “You look beautiful tonight.” Naomi doesn’t look at him. “I look expensive. There’s a difference.”
Nico grins. “I like expensive things.” She finally turns her head, giving him the kind of look that has ended men. “Are you hitting on me at my sister’s wedding?” she asks. “I’m appreciating you,” Nico corrects. “There’s a difference.” Naomi’s mouth twitches. “That’s bold even for you.”
I cover my mouth to hide my laugh. Theo appears behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. “What are you laughing at?” he murmurs. “Your best friend is trying to get himself killed,” I whisper back.
Theo hums. “Nico’s been trying to die since 2012.”
Naomi says something sharp enough to cut diamonds. Nico laughs like he likes it. And I file it away in my brain because I know what this is. It’s a spark. But it is not my problem.
I start doing some rounds around the tables, thanking people for being here. Thank God there are only like six tables. His mom hugs me so tightly I almost cry again.
This night was exactly what I wanted.
Back in the apartment, the second the door closes, Theo’s composure cracks like a dam. His hands are on me, his mouth on mine, like he’s been holding back all day out of respect, and now he’s done being respectful. I laugh against his lips. “Hi, husband.”
Theo groans. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?” I tease. “Like you want me to lose control.” I slide my hands up his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, I do.”
His eyes go dark. “Samantha.” I tug him closer. “Theodore.” My back hits the edge of the counter, and he steps between my legs, spreading them open. “You are getting too close, sir.”
“You are mine now, Samantha. You are my wife,” I nod and kiss him again.