Chapter 209 Callum #2
Colette’s eyes gleamed with recognition as she stepped toward Lucy. “As in the Harper Rose?”
Lucy froze, eyes wide. “Umm…”
“Don’t worry, it’s our little secret,” Colette said with a wink. “I’ve judged enough label art competitions to spot brilliance when I see it. Trust me. I’m the best at keeping identities hidden.”
Lucy just blinked. “I think I love you?”
Colette chuckled, brushing a curl behind her ear as she looked back at us.
“Anyway,” she said, extending her arms with a sweeping, theatrical gesture, “welcome to Sterna Grove.”
“Sterna?” I asked.
“Greek for ‘starling.’ Little bird. They nest here every spring and flock like crazy.”
“I love it,” Aurélie whispered, finally letting go of her friend. “God, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Well,” Colette said with a rueful smile, “when things went sideways with Mathis, I needed to disappear and restart. And as I’m sure you know, getting legal documentation to get residency in another country isn’t exactly an overnight process.”
Aurélie flicked a glance toward me and let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. I can imagine…” Then she lifted her hand. All the diamonds caught the sunlight, sparkling a ridiculous amount. “We’re trying to figure that out for ourselves.”
Colette’s jaw dropped. “Shut up.”
“We’re engaged,” Aurélie said, giddy and glowing. “But my parents don’t know yet, so as far as you’re concerned, you know nothing. Oh, and we’re eloping while we’re here.”
Colette let out a delighted gasp that turned into a squeal, and they hugged again, spinning each other in a little circle that made dust kick up from the gravel. It was girlhood joy, unfiltered and earned.
When they finally pulled apart, Colette turned toward the rest of us, sweeping a hand across her brow dramatically. “Okay, more information, please. Especially the bridesmaids. Have we got elopement details yet? Dresses? Coordinated color palettes? Emotional meltdowns?”
Ivy perked up instantly. “Tragically few meltdowns, to be honest. I feel under-utilized because I’ve been waiting for a breakdown so I can schedule a wine-fueled intervention. Except Aurélie is one of the strongest people I know and rarely cries.”
Lucy giggled, cheeks already pink. “I don’t think we’re official bridesmaids yet.”
Aurélie reached for both of their hands at once. “Yes, you are.”
“Venue?” Colette probed with an arched brow.
Slowly, Aurélie shook her head, then groaned. “Oh mon Dieu, Cal, we are so underprepared.”
I grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist. “We’ll figure it all out, mo chridhe.”
Colette lit up, her expression softening with something that felt like purpose.
“Allow me to help,” she said warmly. “I would be honored to host it here. You’d have food, wine, and enough space that you wouldn’t need to go anywhere after or feel rushed.
There are a few places on the property that might work—there’s a clearing in the olive grove, a terrace that overlooks the sea, and a small hill with a view of the whole vineyard at golden hour. ”
Aurélie’s breath caught, and Colette added gently, “And, of course, I’m ordained. I’ve hosted a few weddings here. But I also know several officiants on the island, if you want someone else.”
Aurélie’s eyes watered immediately, her lips parted like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She looked up at me, blinking quickly, her hand pressing flat to my chest.
My heart could’ve shattered and reassembled right there.
I slid both arms around her and kissed her forehead, then her lips. “We can do it right here if you want, baby.”
She nodded slowly, lips wobbling. “I want.”
“Perfect,” Colette said, clapping once and nodding like it was settled.
“Come inside. We’ve got chilled wine, shade, and a vineyard tour to scheme your wedding properly.
And you three boys,” she added with a teasing smile, “I assume you’re good at carrying heavy things? I have a few casks that need moving.”
I lifted a brow. “Anything for the bride.”
“Good answer,” she said, already turning on her heel. “This way, loves.”
Aurélie turned to grin at me like she’d just found heaven.
And I couldn’t stop staring at her.
The tasting room looked like it was part of an old farmhouse, maybe a century old or more, with stone walls and wide-planked hardwood floors.
A thick wooden beam split the vaulted ceiling, strung with lights and ornate chandeliers.
The windows were tall and arched, open to the wind, and the whole space carried that quiet hum of age and resilience, like it had stood through storms and sun and silence, and still decided to be beautiful.
Ivy paused and let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Even Marco looked impressed. “Okay, yeah. This is vibey as hell.”
Our footsteps thudded softly across the boards, muted by the faded rugs scattered throughout and the intimacy of the space.
Nothing echoed, not with the filtered light, the quiet breeze, and the way this place felt lived in.
It felt like someone loved it enough to keep it warm and breathing through all of life’s seasons.
And in a way, it felt symbolic. Like a foreshadowing of marriage. Not just the wedding day, but the years that came after. What it meant to tend to something. To choose it, over and over. To let it grow wild and beautiful and imperfect, and still stay.
I looked at her.
At Aurélie. Auri. My Auri.
Aurélie was thunder. Auri was rain on the roof.
She turned all my noise into weather I could sleep under.
When she looked at me, even my anger found somewhere gentler to live.
Aurélie was fire, but I got Auri’s embers, the warmth that lingered after the blaze and the glow that turned a house into a life.
She was the reason the word tomorrow didn’t scare me. With her, I was never outrunning anything. I was arriving at the next version of our future—a better version—that awaited us.
The world cheered for Aurélie. I kneeled for Auri. Not in worship but in gratitude. She converted my life from velocity into vow. She was the shrine I made in the middle of a messy world, complete with a laugh that broke and remade me every goddamn time.
And after this morning, after strangers tried to make her body a form to be filed, standing here felt like defiance.
It proved that with her, I never needed a map; I needed a promise. And now we were planning the forever promise. That kind of peace… it was breath. It was the reason I could take both racing and the rest of my life, and finally stop choosing one over the other.
Auri laughed softly at something Ivy said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her skin glowing in the golden light. And it hit me all at once how much I loved her. Not just with heat and hunger and pride and a fierce kind of protectiveness and a sense of belonging deep in my soul.
But with awe. With a kind of ache that stretched deep inside my chest and made me feel like I’d just gone ten rounds in the car. Like I’d raced through every corner of my soul and ended up here—at rest.
She was everything. She was my home. And I didn’t know how I was supposed to walk around holding that kind of feeling inside me without falling apart.
My eyes burned, so I ducked my head, pretending to adjust my sunglasses, pretending I hadn’t just come undone in the middle of a goddamn tasting room.
But she turned toward me, almost as if she felt it. Just like we always did, because our souls were connected in a way that constantly gave us away. Every breath, every flicker of emotion—it was all laid bare between us.
And when our eyes met, she didn’t say a word, only reached for my hand and laced her fingers through mine, steady and sure.
I closed my eyes. Exhaled once. Then wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, anchoring myself in the feel of her, the shape of her body under my hand. Pretending I hadn’t just fallen in love with her all over again.
She didn’t let go, and I thanked my lucky stars for that, because I needed her right now. I needed her strength, her steadfast presence, her love to wrap around me and match mine.
We didn’t rush to join the others, but she stepped in closer, snaking an arm around my waist and pressing a slow, grounding kiss just below my shoulder. Right over the thin cotton of my shirt. Right over the part of me that always reached for her first.
And we stood like that for a second—two hearts, one beat—before moving forward together.
The tasting bar was carved from olive wood and aged bronze. There was a long rustic table in the center of the room and a matching one just outside on the stone terrace, both surrounded by mismatched chairs, soft cushions, and faded linen throws.
Beyond the open doors, a small deck jutted over the hillside with a panoramic view of the Aegean. The water stretched into the horizon in deep shades of sapphire and aquamarine, cliffs spilling down into the sea like sun-bleached ruins.
And something in my chest cracked open.
Home.
It felt like Scotland, not in the look of it, but in the soul of it. The warmth, the stone, the stillness. It felt like our house in the French countryside. It felt like long drives and quiet mornings. Like starting over. Like choosing peace.
It felt like her.
I followed Auri as she moved into the space like it belonged to her, like she already knew it down to the soil. And maybe she did, because when she looked up at me, smiling radiantly, cheeks flushed and eyes lit from the inside. I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Wherever she was? That’s where I wanted to build the rest of my life.
Side by side, we walked toward the others, where Colette was already launching into a surprisingly organized pitch for a last-minute wedding.
“…sunset in the grove would be beautiful, but if you want sea views, I’ve got a few perfect spots up near the ridge. One’s shaded by cypress trees, and the other gets a breeze that could lift her veil just enough to look dramatic but not ridiculous…”