FAE
I’m leaning against the kitchen island when Riggs slams a handful of colour swatches down in front of me like he’s presenting evidence in court.
“I’m telling you now, if you pick that shade of cream, I’m not coming.”
I glance down at them, then back up at him. “You’re not coming to my wedding because of cream?”
“It’s not cream,” he says, pointing at it like it’s offended him personally. “It’s… sad beige.”
I look at my friend before giggling. It’s happening more often lately, these small moments where everything feels…
normal. This house has always been the centre of our friendship, of everything we’ve built together, but now it feels different.
Less like a place we hide and more like something we’re growing into.
No one can walk past me without touching my bump or checking in, and somehow, it’s all folded into wedding planning too.
A flutter rolls through me again and a softer smile follows as my hand drifts to my stomach.
“Riggs, it is elegant,” I roll my eyes.
“It’s depressing,” he shoots back instantly. “You’re marrying Roman, not being buried.”
“Riggs,” Fiona says from behind me, her tone calm but threaded with amusement, “if you don’t stop being dramatic, I will personally dress you in that ‘sad beige’ and make you stand at the front.”
I turn slightly, watching her as she moves around the kitchen, completely unbothered by the chaos we’ve created around her. There’s a cake on the counter in front of her, half decorated, and she smooths the icing over it. Riggs scoffs as he turns around.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he narrows his eyes.
Fiona doesn’t even look up. “Try me.”
I grin, shaking my head as I reach for one of the swatches, only for it to be pulled out of my hand.
“No,” Riggs says firmly. “You’ve lost decision-making privileges. Clearly.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said yes to Roman. That alone tells me your judgement is questionable at best.”
“Oi,” I snap, but there’s no heat behind it. “I’ll remind you that you were the one encouraging it.”
“That was before I realised it would involve me wearing linen,” he mutters, flicking through the swatches again.
Fiona lets out a soft hum and turns toward me, cutting a small piece from the cake before holding it out.
“Taste.”
I don’t hesitate, stepping closer as she feeds it to me. The sweetness hits instantly. The chocolate is soft but rich, and the tartness of the strawberries cuts through the sugar. My eyes close briefly as I take it in.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, opening them again. “That’s it.”
“That’s what?” Fiona questions with a smile.
“My cake,” I say, pointing at it. “I want that at the wedding.”
Riggs looks up. “Of course you do. You’ve gone full domestic, but we need a professional.”
“Riggs,” Fiona gasps.
“No offence, mumzy, it’s just you deserve to sit and relax and, you know…”
“No…”
“Do girly shit with the bride,” he shrugs, “not bake cakes.”
I roll my eyes at him, nudging his arm with my elbow. “God forbid I want nice things on my wedding day.”
“You’re marrying a psychopath,” he says, deadpan. “Nice things are not guaranteed.”
“Riggs.”
“What?” He shrugs, completely unbothered. “You’ve seen him. The man threatened Felix over the seating plan yesterday.”
“That is not what happened,” I laugh, even though it’s not far off. Fiona glances between us, clearly entertained now, and sets the knife down.
“For the record, he was correct. No one should be sat behind a pillar.”
“Thank you,” I say quickly, pointing at her. Riggs stares at us both like we’ve betrayed him.
“I’m surrounded by enablers,” he whispers to himself and Fiona chuckles.
“You’re so dramatic,” I shoot back.
“And you,” he says, narrowing his eyes slightly, “are marrying him anyway.”
A bigger smile pulls at my mouth.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I am.”
Four weeks have passed since the beach, and everything has moved faster than I can keep up with.
Plans have been made, changed, then made again.
Roman wants the wedding done quickly. He hasn’t said why outright, but I know him well enough to understand it isn’t just excitement driving it.
Roman smiles more now. Laughs easier. The tension that used to live in his shoulders has eased just enough that I catch glimpses of the version of him I fell in love with, but the intensity hasn’t gone anywhere.
It’s just shifted onto me and keeping the baby safe.
My bump has grown enough now that it’s impossible to ignore, and Roman treats it like it’s the most important thing in the world.
Every morning his hand finds it before he’s even fully awake, every night he holds me close and talks to it in that low voice he uses when it’s just us.
I live for the evenings. They get me through whatever I have to deal with in the day.
He crawls into bed, massages me with some cream that’s meant to help with stretch marks, then settles beside me and reads a different children’s book to my stomach.
We’ve gone from The Cat in the Hat to Alice in Wonderland to Thomas the Tank Engine.
According to him, our child is going to be cultured and not boxed into gender roles, so it’s important they get stories from fairies to cars.
The only problem we do have is we’ve lost sight of his dad in all of it.
The second the council gave Roman his seat, he disappeared.
I’ve never seen Roman this busy. He’s gone from being a normal student to running the businesses that were signed over to him whilst still helping the guys try to track his dad down.
He thrives in the routine, though, and somehow still makes time for me.
Longstaff cleared out his office before he left, so we have nothing solid to go on, and the trafficking ring is still running like nothing’s changed.
Luckily, we are getting somewhere.
Between Atlas’ tracking skills and everyone else’s specialties, we’ve managed to rescue quite a few victims. I think that’s part of why everyone has thrown themselves into the baby and the wedding so much.
It gives us something good to hold onto in the middle of everything else.
The back door opens and I don’t even need to turn to know it’s him.
The conversation carries on around me, but it fades into the background as his footsteps move closer.
“Hey,” he whispers in my ear, causing me to shiver.
His hand finds my jaw as he tilts my face up and his mouth connects with mine. It steals the air from my lungs. My fingers curl into his shirt as I lean into him. He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine before his hand drops to my stomach and his thumb moves absentmindedly.
“Missed you,” he breathes.
“You saw me an hour ago,” I mumble.
“Still counts,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips again before stepping back.
Roman’s eyes scan over my body as usual, like he’s checking for injuries, and I tamp down the eye roll.
I’ve long since learnt to let Roman just get this over with.
When he’s happy with what he sees, he bends down to kiss my bump and my breath catches at the sight of him there.
I bite my lip and he smirks up at me like he knows exactly what he does to my body.
I cut a glance at Fiona and he chuckles as he stands to his full height and pulls me in for a hug.
“You make me sick,” Riggs stage whispers.
“I thought that was the sad beige,” I whisper back, and he throws his head back and laughs.
“That too, Fairy. That too.”
“What are you doing today?” I tilt my head back, taking Roman in properly.
“First stop’s the docks, then I’ve got back-to-back meetings with suppliers. I need to go to Clacton to oversee some shipments.”
“The beach?” I gasp. “You’re going to the beach without me?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Tink,” he says with a chuckle, winking as he dips his head slightly.
“Traitor,” I mouth.
“I know,” he mouths back, and I smile up at him.
I don’t know why this man chose me, but I thank my lucky stars every day that he did. Fiona watches us. There’s pride there, and when Roman glances over, she doesn’t hide it.
“I’m proud of you,” she says simply. “Both of you.”
Roman gives her one of his real smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes as his dimples pull deep, before crossing the room and pulling her into a quick hug.
They murmur something too quiet for me to catch, but it draws a soft laugh from her.
I feel like the Grinch, like my heart has grown two sizes.
It feels fit to burst every time I look at them.
Roman’s phone rings and he sighs, pulling it from his pocket.
“Hello… yeah, I’ll see you soon,” he says before hanging up and glancing between us. “Right, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I love you,” Roman bends to press a kiss to his mum’s cheek before straightening and turning toward me.
He crosses the room and his hand comes to my jaw as he tilts my face up again and claims me in a passionate kiss. I hum softly against his lips as he deepens it before pulling back slowly and brushing his thumb once across my cheek.
“I love you, Tink.”
“I love you too,” I breathe back.
He lingers as his thumb drags lightly along my jaw like he’s committing me to memory, before he finally pulls away.
The door closes behind him with a bang, and something in my chest shifts with it, like a piece of me has just walked out into the world with him.
The kitchen noise fills the space he leaves behind as voices pick straight back up and I exhale slowly, forcing myself back into the room.
“I’m just saying, if you expect me to sit on something with a bow on it, I’m walking straight back out—”
Fiona’s phone buzzes on the counter.