Chapter 16 #2
His thumb moves over my knuckles.
“You broke every rule I had.”
A few people laugh.
He doesn’t.
“And then you made me understand that rules were never the same thing as promises.”
My eyes burn.
Lucian doesn’t look away. “I promise to stand beside you when every part of me wants to stand in front of you. To give you every luxury I can buy and never confuse any of them with the one thing you give freely.”
His voice roughens. “Yourself.”
I am crying now.
So much for waterproof mascara.
The officiant turns to me.
My hands shake in his. “Lucian.” My voice cracks.
I look at him, repeating the traditional wedding vows as the officiant says them. He didn’t tell me we were writing our own, and I’m grateful not to have known.
There’s no way I’d be able to get them out on my own.
Ryan brings us the rings. Lucian slides a thin gold band beside my engagement ring.
I slide his onto his finger.
The officiant says the words.
Husband.
Wife.
Kiss.
Lucian does not wait for the full sentence.
His hands close around my face, and his mouth takes mine.
The room explodes.
Applause. Whistles. Blaze yelling. Cass crying.
Ryan cheering because everyone else is.
I wrap my arms around Lucian’s neck.
My husband.
The word lands somewhere deep.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against my mouth.
“Mine.”
“Always.”
The reception is exactly the kind of excess I pretended I did not want.
Champagne. Crystal. A six-tier cake Cass could not bake.
Not yet. But one day. She’s taking lessons.
Music. Dancing.
He doesn’t let me out of his arms the entire night.
And I don’t complain.
At midnight, the last non-family guests leave.
The ballroom grows quiet. Then, it empties. He takes my hand.
Nerves settle in, making my knees grow weak.
He glances down at me. “One more ceremony.”
“The private one.”
“The real one,” he says.
The Bachman riverboat waits beyond the Village gates.
I have seen it before from a distance.
Tonight, it looks like another world.
Black hull.
Warm windows.
Gold light spilling across the Hudson.
No press.
No guests.
No hired orchestra.
Only family.
The rebuilt Village glows behind us as we walk toward the dock.
Every Bachman carries a candle that is not yet lit.
Lucian walks beside me.
My new husband.
My public husband.
But I understand now why he said one more ceremony.
This is not about the law.
This is about belonging.
The boat pulls away from shore.
New York becomes light behind us.
The upper deck has been cleared.
No tables.
No flowers except a few white roses along the railing.
At the center stands a narrow altar of dark wood.
On it rests a sword.
Not a weapon.
A symbol.
I stop.
Lucian looks at me.
“Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I narrow my eyes.
He almost smiles.
“You told me nervous and excited are the same emotion.”
“You remember too much.”
“Everything about you.”
We walk forward.
The family forms a circle around us.
Men and women whose names I’m still learning.
Some I met today.
Some I have known through stories.
The old families.
The new ones.
The ones who stayed after the Village burned.
The ones who came back.
An older Bachman steps to the altar.
He wears no robe. Only a dark tux these men are so fond of.
His voice carries over the water. “The law witnessed a marriage tonight.” The boat moves beneath us. “The world witnessed a marriage tonight.” He looks around the circle. “But family witnesses something else.”
Lucian takes my hand.
The man continues.
“The Bachman name has never meant blood alone. It is a promise. Protection. Loyalty. It is the choice to stand when standing costs something.”
I glance at Lucian.
His eyes are on me.
Am I ready to become one of them?
To join this family?
A family that is violent and ridiculously kinky and too wealthy and complicated enough to require flowcharts.
A family that rebuilt a Village because home mattered more than ashes.
There is a small red leather box in his hand. Bachman’s written in gold on the top.
He opens it.
Inside is a delicate gold necklace. A small sword pendant dangles from the chain. Light blue stones line the blade.
“It’s beautiful.” I touch my throat.
He steps behind me. His fingers brush the back of my neck as he fastens it.
His mouth comes close to my ear. “You still want this?”
“Yes.” I smile through tears. “And ask me when I’m ninety.”
“I will.”
He moves back in front of me.
The older man lights one candle, sharing the flame with someone else. The flame moves around the circle until the deck glows with dozens of small lights.
The river wind should extinguish them.
Somehow it does not.
The older man raises his candle.
“Bachmans, do you accept Erin?”
“We do.”
The voices roll across the water.
A shiver moves through me.
“Do you pledge to care for and protect her as your own blood?”
“We do.”
My throat closes.
“And how long will you hold Erin and Lucian in your care?”
The answer comes from every direction.
“Forever.”
I break.
There is no elegant way to describe it.
I cry.
The older man smiles. “Welcome home, Erin Bachman.”
Erin Bachman.
I close my eyes.
For years, names were survival.
Fake names.
Last names that connected me to people who hurt us.
Names on bills.
Names on records.
Names I gave men because I could not trust them with the real one.
Now I have one I chose.
I look up at Lucian.
“Erin Bachman.”
His face changes.
Pride.
Love.
Possession, because he is still himself.
But something gentler beneath it.
“My wife.”
“My husband.”
The river carries us past Manhattan.
Past bridges.
Past a city where I once believed money might solve the worst thing that could happen to me.
I was wrong.
Money helped.
A lot.
I am not going to become one of those women who pretend that being rich is not fantastic.
I’ve been too poor for that.
But money did not save me.
Cass did.
Ryan did.
I saved myself.
And Lucian...
His mouth brushes my temple. “Happy?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
“Scared?” I ask.
He stills. I smile against his chest. “You can say it.”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
He looks out over the water. “That this is the moment something takes you.”
I pull back. “No.”
His eyes return to mine. “You asked.” His jaw tightens.
I touch his face. “We are allowed to be happy after the danger is over.”
“What if it is never over?”
“Then we’ll be happy while it’s happening.”
He stares at me.
I continue, “I don’t need a life where nothing bad can happen. No one gets that.”
His arms tighten around me.
“I need a life where bad things don’t get to be the only things that happen.”
Something in his expression gives.
Peace.
Just a little.