Chapter Quentin
We’d done it. We were officially married.
I was a wife, and not just anyone’s, but Gray’s wife.
Never in a million years could I have seen this coming when I first laid eyes on him.
If I were Erik, if my responsibility was love, I would spend the rest of my days glowing from the strength of what I felt.
Our auras appeared between our hearts, strung together, and made no sign of disappearing as we made our way out to the reception. Sloan and Erik had worked hard to produce such a beautiful setting for all of us that my heart ached with gratitude.
“Congratulations,” Archer said, coming over to us.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“An eternity is a long time… I truly hope you both get to spend it together.”
There was a small flicker of sadness in his eyes, and I knew he must be thinking about the vows he made. One time, Archer believed he would spend an eternity with Elara and it was ripped from him.
“Thank you,” Gray said to him. “For everything.”
Archer merely shook his head. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
The night became overwhelming with people wanting to congratulate us. With the tears that Sophie and Cass shed. And the speeches that saw Malachi choke on a piece of bread from the scandalous nature.
Sloan pushed her way through the crowd, beaming.
“The ceremony was beautiful,” she said. “Ignore Erik. He loves to be the one with the dramatics at a wedding.”
I laughed. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.”
“Don’t mention it, Quentin. We’re family.”
Family. It continued to grow in the most beautiful ways. I opened my arms and Sloan stepped towards me so we could share a hug. She tensed slightly, and I let go of her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, worried I’d hurt her.
“Yes,” she waved me off. “I thought I saw one of the kids.”
Shaking her head, she moved to Grayson. Sloan took his face in her hands, in a motherly gesture.
“I’ll give you both a minute,” I told them. “I’m going to grab a drink.”
I’d learned that Gray had played a big role in getting Sloan and Erik up the aisle.
I imagined Sloan wanted a few moments to share her joy in the fact her brother-in-law had finally achieved the same.
With a champagne glass in hand, I watched the room, but my eyes were easily drawn back to my husband.
Sloan hugged him tight, but when they pulled apart, his face was not as relaxed as what it had been.
Within moments, his gaze landed on me and he broke into a grin.
No crisis. Just him being overly protective.
Striding over to me, he pulled the drink gently from my hand and led me towards the dance floor. Despite the exhaustion that was slowly settling over me, I refused to sit down. I longed to spend the rest of my night in his arms, dancing, drinking, and adoring my husband.
“Quentin, I have something to ask you,” he said, staring down at me.
“Fair warning that I will say yes to anything you ask tonight,” I replied.
That earned me a laugh. “Dangerous knowledge to share. But perhaps it’ll work in my favour.”
“What is it you’re after, trouble?”
We swayed to the music, and part of me wished we could stay like this forever. No decisions. No pressures. Just a bubble of love.
“I would like the honour of becoming a Scott,” Gray said, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I asked, pulling away slightly to look at him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Why? What use is my last name to you?” I asked, confused by the strange request.
He gave me a soft smile and I would have loved to know what was going through his mind. I always saw things as black and white, but with Gray… there were more shades in between.
“It might not be of use, as you put it, but I want it,” he told me.
“Why?”
“Because I want to belong somewhere with you.”
I blinked, not following where he was going with this. I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.
“We are married,” he said. “One day, we will have a family. My heritage means that I couldn’t bind us by a name. With yours I can.”
“But that doesn’t matter up here.”
“No, but it will matter down there. When Charlie gets married. When we are made godparents for Sophie and Cassidy’s child.”
I blushed, thinking about the invitations that would be given and how they would be addressed. Quentin Scott and Grayson. It made him feel alone. Separate.
“I didn’t think of it like that.”
Selfishly, I thought about myself. I knew that marriage was a decision and didn’t validate our relationship. Originally, I told him we didn’t need marriage, but I warmed so much to the idea and when I left Earth, I knew I no longer wanted to wait.
“But I have, love,” Grayson said, kissing my forehead. “I’d like to take your surname for those moments in life. And for all the ones we haven’t even thought of yet.”
“How very modern of you,” I said, tone teasing and light.
He rolled his eyes, and I rested my head against his chest. The steady thump of his heart welcoming me home as it always did.
“I love you, Quentin Scott. You are my reason to exist.”
All of my concerns about my home and about belonging no longer mattered. Gray was my home. Wherever he went was where I would be, because that was how we were created. As a pair with a bond that could not be shattered.
“I love you too, Grayson Scott.”