18. Jade
— ? —
Jade
The wedding day arrives on a perfect spring afternoon, the sky impossibly blue, the air soft with the scent of flowers.
I stand in front of the mirror in the bridal suite, hardly recognizing the woman looking back at me. The dress is simple - elegant white silk, nothing too elaborate. I’ve never been one for too much. But it fits like it was made for me, and when I move, the fabric flows like water.
A year ago, I walked out of prison with nothing but the clothes on my back and a handful of shattered dreams.
Now I’m a mother. A bride. About to become a wife.
The door bursts open and Nova runs in, her pink flower girl dress swishing around her knees. There are already petals escaping from her basket - she’s been “practicing” all morning.
“Mommy! You look like a PRINCESS!”
I laugh and scoop her up, careful not to wrinkle either of our dresses. “You’re the princess, baby. I’m just the queen.”
“Dami - I mean, Daddy - is gonna CRY when he sees you.”
“You think so?”
“He cries at EVERYTHING now. He cried at my dance recital. He cried when I lost my first tooth. He even cried at that commercial with the puppies.”
“That’s because he has a big heart.”
“I know. That’s why I love him.” She squirms down from my arms and grabs her flower basket. “Come ON, Mommy. It’s time to get MARRIED!”
The ceremony is everything I never knew I wanted. Small. Intimate. Just the people who matter most, gathered in a garden venue as the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
Nova walks down the aisle first, taking her flower girl duties with the utmost seriousness. She throws petals with careful precision - probably too many, definitely more than necessary - and the guests laugh with delight.
Then it’s my turn.
I step onto the aisle and see Damian waiting at the altar. He’s wearing a black suit that fits him perfectly, and his eyes are already wet.
“Told you,” Nova whispers loudly from her spot at the front. “He’s CRYING.”
Everyone laughs again, but I barely hear them. I only see him. This man who waited for me. Who fought for me. Who gave me back everything I thought I’d lost forever.
I reach the altar and take his hands. They’re warm and steady, like always. Like they’ve always been.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.” His voice is rough. “You’re so beautiful I can’t breathe.”
The officiant speaks, but I barely hear the words. I’m too busy looking at Damian, at the love shining in his eyes, at the future spread out before us like a promise.
Then it’s time for the vows.
Damian goes first, his voice steady despite the tears on his cheeks.
“Jade. Five years ago, you crashed into me outside a building. You were crying. Heartbroken. Your whole world had just fallen apart, and you had no reason to trust anyone, least of all someone with my last name. But you looked at me, and I looked at you, and something changed. I didn’t know it then, but that was the moment my life started. ”
He squeezes my hands.
“I spent four years fighting for you. Waiting for you. Believing in you when the whole world said I was crazy. And I’d do it all again - a thousand times, a million times - because you’re worth it.
You’re worth everything.” His voice breaks.
“You’re not just the love of my life, Jade.
You’re my whole life. You and Nova. You’re everything I never knew I needed, and I’m going to spend the rest of my days making sure you know how much you’re loved. ”
I’m crying now. Of course I’m crying.
My turn.
“Damian. You found me at my lowest moment. I was broken. Hopeless. I had lost everything, my freedom, my daughter, my faith in humanity. And you looked at me like I was worth something. Like I was worth fighting for.” I take a shaky breath.
“You waited four years. You never gave up, even when it would have been so easy to walk away. You gave me back my daughter. You gave me back my life. You gave me a future I never thought I’d have. ”
I squeeze his hands.
“I love you. I’ll love you forever. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you what that means. I’m going to love you in the big moments and the small ones. In the hard times and the easy ones. Every single day, for as long as I live, I choose you.”
We exchange rings. Simple bands that match, because we don’t need elaborate symbols. We have each other.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
He kisses me. Deep. Thorough. A promise sealed.
Nova cheers from her spot at the front. “YAAAAY! NOW WE’RE A REAL FAMILY!”
Everyone laughs. Everyone cries. And I hold onto my husband - my husband - and know that I’ve finally found my way home.
The reception is a blur of champagne toasts, happy tears, and Nova demanding to dance with her “new daddy” at least four times.
But throughout it all - through the cake cutting and the speeches and the first dance - Damian’s eyes keep finding mine. Dark. Heated. Hungry.
His hand rests on my lower back during photos, his fingers tracing slow circles that make me shiver. When we dance, he pulls me closer than strictly necessary, his lips brushing my ear.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch you in that dress,” he murmurs, “knowing I can’t touch you the way I want to?”
“Tell me how you want to touch me.”
His hand tightens on my waist. “I want to peel that silk off your body inch by inch. I want to taste every part of you. I want to make you say my name until you forget any other word exists.”
My breath catches. “Damian...”
“That’s a good start.” His voice is a low rumble against my neck. “But I want you screaming it.”
The song ends. We pull apart, flushed and breathless, and return to our guests like we weren’t just seconds away from abandoning our own reception.
***
Finally - finally - the night winds down.
Nova, exhausted from dancing and cake and the excitement of the day, falls asleep in Damian’s arms. We kiss her goodnight, transfer her to the adjoining room of our hotel suite, and close the door softly behind us.
The moment the lock clicks, the air changes.
Damian turns to me, his jacket already discarded, his sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms that have featured in more than a few of my fantasies. The look in his eyes makes my heart race and my knees weak.
“I’ve been waiting all day to get you out of that dress,” he says, his voice low and rough.
“Then stop talking.”
He crosses the room in three strides and spins me around, my back to his chest. I feel his breath warm against my neck, his fingers finding the zipper at my spine.
He doesn’t rush. He unzips me slowly - torturously slowly - his lips brushing my shoulder with every inch of skin he reveals. The silk whispers down my body and pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but white lace and candlelight.
“My wife,” he murmurs against the curve of my neck, his hands skimming my waist, my hips, the tops of my thighs. “I love saying that.”
“Then keep saying it.”
He spins me back around to face him, his eyes roaming over my body with an intensity that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“My wife.” He unclasps my bra, letting it fall. “My gorgeous, incredible wife.” He kneels before me, pressing a kiss to my stomach, my hip, the edge of my lace underwear. “My wife, who I’m going to worship every single day for the rest of my life.”
He hooks his fingers in the lace and pulls it down, and then I’m bare before him, trembling with want.
“Damian, please-”
“Please what?” He rises, shedding his own clothes with efficient urgency - shirt, pants, everything - until he’s as naked as I am. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” I breathe. “I need you.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and my legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bed. We fall together onto the white sheets, a tangle of limbs and gasps and desperate, searching hands.
We take our time at first. Slow. Savoring. His mouth explores every inch of me - my neck, my collarbone, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs - while I arch into his touch, fingers twisted in his hair. Every kiss is a promise. Every caress is a vow.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says against my skin, his voice reverent. “Wanted you for so long.”
“You have me.” I pull his face up to mine, kissing him deeply. “I’m yours. All of me. Forever.”
Something shifts at my words. The tenderness doesn’t disappear, but it makes room for something fiercer. Hungrier.
He enters me slowly, watching my face, and the feeling of him filling me - of being so completely connected - pulls a moan from my lips that I don’t even try to suppress.
“God, Jade.” His forehead drops to mine, his breath ragged. “You feel...”
“I know.” I roll my hips, urging him deeper. “I know.”
Then we’re moving together, finding a rhythm that builds and builds. Slow gives way to desperate. Savoring gives way to consuming. His hands grip my hips, my thighs, my hair. My nails rake down his back, and he groans in a way that makes me want to mark him everywhere.
“Say my name,” he demands against my throat. “Say it.”
“Damian-”
“Again.”
“Damian.” It’s a gasp, a prayer, a plea. “Damian, please, I’m so close-”
He shifts the angle, hits something deep inside me, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me in waves, his name on my lips like he asked - like he demanded - and I feel him follow moments later, groaning my name like it’s the only word he knows.
We collapse together, sweaty and breathless and tangled in sheets that have been thoroughly destroyed. His weight is heavy on me, grounding, and I never want him to move.
“We’re married,” I whisper into the darkness, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his shoulder.
“We are.” He rolls to the side, pulling me against him, my head on his chest. I can hear his heart still pounding.
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Not possible.”
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine, and pulls me closer. “Then we’ll call it a tie.”
I smile against his skin, pressing a kiss to the place where his heart beats.
Outside our window, the moon hangs full and bright, silvering the world in soft light.
Inside, my husband’s arms are wrapped around me, our daughter sleeps peacefully in the next room, and the future stretches out before us, not perfect, but ours.
“Best wedding ever,” I murmur, already half-asleep.
“Just wait until the honeymoon,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m only getting started.”