Chapter 211 Aurélie #3
For some reason, it didn’t feel strange for her to be so vulnerable.
I’d known her for years. We’d crossed paths at expos, exchanged wine recommendations in DMs, debated fermentation methods and bottling blends late into the night from different time zones.
But I’d never seen her like this. Never imagined her voice would tremble when she looked at me.
I melted. Fully collapsed, arms flopped across the tasting bar in mock-despair. “He really is so fucking hot, right?” I sighed dramatically. “Like it’s honestly unfair. The jawline? The hands? The god-tier emotional growth arc?”
All three of them burst out laughing—Colette tossing her head back, Ivy shaking hers, and Lucy flushing a dark pink.
“His neck alone could convert a woman,” Lucy deadpanned.
I choked. “Okay, that’s going in my vows.” They cackled harder, completely unhinged in the best way.
Colette wiped a tear from her eye, then cleared her throat gently, drawing our attention back to her. She reached for three more glasses and glanced toward Ivy and Lucy.
“For the women standing beside her,” she said, voice lightening but still laced with emotion, “a single sip to seal the pact.”
She poured with ceremony, placing one glass before Lucy, one before Ivy, and one for herself. The light from the window caught the pale gold wine as she lifted her own, holding it out between us like a talisman.
“To the sisters of the bride,” she said. “By blood or by bond. May your feet stay dirty and your hearts stay full.”
We clinked gently, four glasses catching the light like a spell being cast, and drank together. The blend shimmered on my tongue, brighter now, sweeter in their company. Colette topped all of us off before corking the bottle again, the moment sealed like magic in a bottle.
“To Aurélie Dubois,” Ivy toasted. “May she always be surrounded by people who worship the ground she walks on, and know better than to take your light for granted.” Ivy lifted her glass again with a grin that barely masked the emotion behind it.
She paused, and my eyes flooded with tears.
Ivy had always seen, literally and metaphorically.
From the moment we met, when she caught me and Callum pressed against a door ready to throw caution to the wind.
And from that moment on, I knew she’d protect me.
She could’ve run off and gotten a nice paycheck for discovering that story—Formula 1’s champion fornicating with the troublemaking rookie—but all that mattered to her was taking care of me.
“To the kind of love that doesn’t dim you, but matches you.
The kind that finds you when you least expect it and holds you through hell and home again.
The kind where you count down the minutes ‘til you see them again, even when they just left… or when you’re sneaking off to fuck them against a paddock building in Barcelona. ”
Colette nearly spat her wine, and Lucy looked deeply impressed.
Meanwhile, my jaw dropped, because did she read my mind? Sometimes I was convinced we shared a brain, but really, it was the fact that we were friend soulmates. Written in the stars, charted in the constellations, and fated for us to change the fucking world together.
“You found your soulmate, Frenchie,” Ivy finished, soft and sure. “You fucking found it.”
A beat passed.
Then Ivy raised her glass again with a wink. “And may you always be surrounded by dick aura from magical weenie moments.”
Another wholesome giggle-fest exploded between us.
Ivy dabbed the corner of my mouth with her thumb, mouth curling into a wicked grin. “I see Scottie figured out how to get you off without ruining your makeup. Husband material confirmed.”
A giddy laugh escaped me.
Lucy leaned in, eyes wide with scandal. “Wait… you had an orgasm?”
“Can’t you tell?” Ivy said, tossing her hair. “Look how relaxed she is.”
Lucy blinked rapidly, raking her eyes over me like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. “When did you have time for that? It always takes me forever.”
I leaned in and kissed her cheek, heart flipping for this poor, deprived girl who somehow managed to fill a missing space in our group like she’d always belonged. “Chérie,” I murmured, “when you find a man who knows what he’s doing, it doesn’t take that long.”
“Oh my God,” Ivy deadpanned. “I cannot wait to corrupt her.”
Lucy went slightly pale. “That sounds scary.”
“Okay,” Colette interjected, voice thick with emotion.
“As much as I love seeing a healthy girl gang, I do believe Aurélie Dubois is due at the altar. Give me a few; I’m going to meet Marco and Kimi to make sure they know what to do.
Men, I swear.” She rolled her eyes, blew us a kiss over her shoulder, and then flounced down the front steps, straight to the olive grove.
Lucy picked up her guitar, which I hadn’t noticed was leaning against the bar. “Let’s go make smart choices.”
I snorted.
“Not a chance, Songbird,” Ivy said with a wicked grin.
“Smart choices are advised,” I added solemnly, “but rarely heeded.”
I grabbed my bouquet as we filed out of the tasting room in silence, the laughter still clinging to our cheeks, fading slowly into a romantically quiet hush.
My handwritten vows were tucked beneath the stems, the ribbon securing both them and his ring.
It felt like carrying the past and future at once.
We walked side by side with me in the middle. The short train of my dress dragged behind us, and somehow, the feeling of it gathering earth made me feel… rooted. Like this land was wrapping itself around my ankles and blessing me.
I grew up close to the soil. My peace lived between rows of lavender, with bees in my ears and dirt under my nails. There was something sacred about walking barefoot across ancient ground—olive trees that had stood through centuries of storms, grapevines with roots that ran deeper than blood.
After we returned home and I hung it in my closet, the dust from today would remain stitched into its hem. That was the point. Let it carry the imprint of where I said yes. Let it remember for me.
We didn’t speak again until we reached the bend just before the ridge came into view, where Kimi, Marco, and Colette waited. The path was shaded, the air still, like even the island was holding its breath.
Kimi stood beside Marco, both of them in matching cream linen shirts—collars open, sleeves cuffed, the fabric soft and perfectly pressed.
Their trousers were tailored, stone-colored linen that tapered just above the ankle, and both wore sleek brown leather sandals that somehow made them look richer. And more dangerous.
Their only accessories were slim watches and matching tartan sashes tied around their waists like belts. I wondered if they were doing it as a jab at Callum, or if that was Callum’s choice.
Kimi’s hair was slicked back in a sharp side part, not a strand out of place. Marco’s loose, flawless Italian waves were a little looser and slightly windblown, like he’d stepped off a yacht. Both of their jawlines had been shaped and trimmed to lethal perfection.
Next to me, Ivy groaned. “Bloody hell. Why does he have to be hot today?”
I snickered and elbowed her. “He’s always hot.”
Lucy let out a dreamy little sigh, sounding shockingly feral for her, and whispered, “Don’t ever tell him I said this, because he’ll literally combust from smugness, but… Kimi could read the phone book to me and I’d fold.”
Ivy choked. “Oh my God, Songbird, do you have a heartbeat between your legs right now?”
I nearly tripped laughing. “Angel, blink twice if you’re experiencing your first existential sexual crisis.”
Lucy flushed scarlet. “I—I don’t know what’s happening.”
As soon as they spotted us rounding the bend, Kimi gave a low whistle, followed by a slow, dramatic once-over. Marco let out a gasp so exaggerated it made Ivy snort.
Lucy stopped beside me, one hand clutching her guitar.
She leaned in. “Go slow. Let him ache for it.” Her whisper was so soft it melted against my skin.
I smiled, already aching myself. Then she kissed my cheek and stepped onto the path, disappearing toward the vineyard edge where the view opened up wide and the sea stretched.
“Oh, mon Dieu,” Marco said, pressing one hand to his chest. “She’s floating. Is she floating?”
“I don’t think my heart can take this,” Kimi added with faux solemnity, shaking his head. “She’s not walking, she’s gliding.”
“Someone will need to track Fraser’s vitals,” Marco whined. “That man’s about to black out when he sees her.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, cheeks flushing as warmth rushed to the surface.
Their praise wasn’t flirty or performative.
It was adoring. Ridiculous. Completely over the top.
And somehow, exactly what I needed. Like the oldest parts of me—the little girl who never felt pretty enough, never felt chosen—were being held up and worshipped for simply existing.
“Stop it,” I teased, unable to keep the grin off my face. “You’re going to make me trip.”
“I will catch you,” Marco said dramatically, opening his arms like a soap opera star. “And then I will carry you to the altar myself.”
Ivy waved him off. “Shut up, Bianchi.” Then she turned to me, gave me a slow, careful once-over, and her grin softened into something fierce and proud. “Hair’s perfect. Boobs are perfect. Veil is doing that slow-motion wind goddess thing,” she said, eyes glinting. “You’re unreal, Frenchie.”
Lucy’s voice drifted through the trees along with a soft acoustic strum floating.
Colette clapped once, cutting in with a sharp, knowing smile. “This is it. It’s time.”
Marco winked at me, then stepped aside, holding his arm out for Ivy to take.
Kimi caught my eye and stepped forward.