48. Chapter 48
Victor
“Congratulations, Victor,” Hunter Novak says as he extends his hand to me.
I give a firm handshake and then adjust the purple tie I’ve just put on.
“Thank you, Hunter. And thank you for giving us the use of your chapel.”
“It’s become a real treat for me to let my friends get married here. You’ll be the third wedding we’ve had.”
I smile. “It’s nice to hear you consider us friends.”
“You can thank Grace and Liliana for that.” Hunter’s mouth quirks, more calculation than warmth, the same look he gets right before he tells someone exactly what something is going to cost them. “I don’t make a habit of liking people, Serrano. Yours were exceptions I didn’t see coming.”
He claps me once on the shoulder and heads off to find his seat, leaving me alone in the small anteroom off the chapel’s entrance.
I check my reflection in the mirror one more time, the deep purple of my tie a stark, deliberate contrast against the black three-piece suit Grace helped pick out, back when this was still a hypothetical instead of forty minutes away.
Owen pokes his head in. “Five minutes. And for what it’s worth, everyone’s already crying and the bride hasn’t even walked in yet.”
“Lili?”
“Dry-eyed and smug about it. Says she’s saving her tears for later.”
I don’t doubt that for a second.
When the doors finally open, the room Hunter built for exactly this kind of moment does its job perfectly. Black orchids line the aisle. Purple uplighting washes the walls, candles standing in for the usual soft chapel lighting.
Then Grace appears in the doorway, and I stop thinking about the room at all.
Katie outdid herself. The dress is deep violet lace over black underlay, fitted through the bodice before it flares out into layers that shift and catch the candlelight when she walks, long sleeves ending in points at her wrists, a neckline that makes my mouth go dry.
I have never wanted anything more in my life.
Lili sits in the front row in matching deep purple, and when Grace passes her, Lili reaches out just to brush her fingers once against Grace’s hand. Grace’s smile wobbles, and she keeps walking.
I don’t remember most of the ceremony. Grace’s hand shakes in mine when I slide the ring onto her finger.
The officiant, a friend of Hunter’s who clearly has no idea what kind of family she’s marrying into, says something about partnership and trust that hits me square in the chest. Grace’s vows are short and devastating anyway.
You found me before I knew I was lost, and you’ve spent every day since making sure I never feel that way again.
I don’t remember mine at all, only that Grace is crying by the time I finish, and so is half the room.
When they finally announce us married, the sound that comes out of Lili is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and she’s the first one on her feet.
The family reception afterward is smaller, quieter, held in one of the private dining rooms at the Sapphire.
My father comes, Camila at his side already teasing him about crying during the ceremony, which he denies without much conviction at all.
He pulls Grace aside at one point, and when she comes back to me afterward, her eyes are wet again.
“What did he say?”
“That he’s glad his son found someone who makes him this happy. And that if I ever need anything, all I have to do is call him directly, not through you.” She laughs, wiping under her eyes. “I think that’s your father’s version of adopting me.”
“It absolutely is.”
Grace doesn’t have family here to walk her down an aisle or cry in a corner about her baby getting married, and I’ve watched her make peace with that all day in small, quiet ways, folding herself into ours instead.
Watching her with my father tonight, I think she’s finally starting to believe she doesn’t have to choose between the family she was born into and the one she built.
By the time we make it to the club for the second reception, the atmosphere shifts entirely.
Gone is the hushed reverence of the chapel, replaced by music thumping through the main floor, club members in their finest formalwear mixed with far less formal attire, champagne flowing freely.
This is the reception that actually feels like home.
Matteo toasts us from the DJ booth with something crude enough that Skylar smacks his arm, laughing. Owen and Tobias dance with Bellamy sandwiched between them. Zara and Luke disappear toward the Spade room for reasons I choose not to think about too hard on my own wedding night.
I find Lili and Grace on the balcony above the main floor sometime near midnight, both of them leaning against the railing, watching the party below.
“Hiding?” I ask, sliding an arm around each of them.
“Recovering,” Grace says. “It’s a lot of feelings for one day.”
Lili turns to look at me, her face doing the soft, unguarded thing she doesn’t let many people see. “I keep waiting to feel like the third wheel tonight. I haven’t yet.”
“You won’t. Not tonight. Not ever.” I press a kiss to her temple, then Grace’s. “Nothing about tonight replaces you. It’s one more piece of what we already are.”
“That’s annoyingly poetic for a man who once told me feelings were inefficient,” Lili says, but she’s smiling when she says it.
“I contain multitudes, Spitfire.”
Grace laughs, leaning her head against my shoulder, and for a long moment none of us say anything at all. Just the three of us, above the noise, married and unmarried and equally bound to each other regardless.
“I don’t want to go on a honeymoon without both of you,” Grace admits eventually, quiet enough that it’s almost lost under the music. “I know that’s not how this is supposed to work, but I don’t care.”
I catch Lili’s eye over the top of Grace’s head, and she tips her chin at me. We settled this weeks ago, but neither of us has told Grace yet.
“We’ll figure something out, butterfly,” is all I say.
Lili’s smile says she knows exactly what I’m not telling her wife.
It’s nearly two in the morning by the time we say our goodbyes, Grace exhausted and glowing, still wearing Katie’s dress with her shoes long abandoned somewhere on the dance floor. Owen has a car waiting to take us home for what’s left of the night before our flight in the morning.
“Get some sleep,” Lili tells Grace, kissing her softly. “You’re going to need it.”
“Where are you going?” Grace asks, suddenly suspicious.
“Home. To my suite. Where I always go.” Lili’s expression is the picture of innocence, and Grace narrows her eyes like she doesn’t quite believe it.
I say nothing at all, and let my new wife wonder.