21. Marcus
MARCUS
Iadjust my cufflinks for the third time, even though I know they’re already perfectly in place.
The mirror reflects a version of me I barely recognize—same tailored tux, same hair, same sharp jaw. But behind the eyes, everything’s changed.
Standing here, knowing that in less than an hour, I’ll be Avery’s husband.
Yeah, I’m nervous.
Not because I doubt her. Not because I’m second-guessing us.
But because this—this is the one thing in my life that actually matters.
The boys’ laughter echoes down the hall. My best men, looking sharp in their little tuxedos, undoubtedly making a mess somewhere. I can’t help but smile.
I release my breath slowly, smoothing down my tie.
This isn’t a contract. It’s not a strategy. It’s not calculated.
This is love. Messy, unpredictable, real love. And for once in my life, I’m ready to trust it.
The door swings open without warning and Victoria waltzes in like she owns the place, a wicked grin on her face and two flutes of champagne in her hands. Her light pink strapless dress flows behind her, effortlessly elegant, and she looks far too smug for my liking.
“Look at you,” she drawls, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mr. Stone Cold, finally breaking a sweat.”
I quickly turn to the mirror to check. “I’m not sweating.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” She flops onto the armchair like she has nowhere better to be. “So… how’s it feel knowing this is the last time you’ll be able to hide behind work and brooding silence?”
“Wonderful,” I admit, adjusting my tie again.
She snickers. But then, just as quickly, the teasing fades. When I glance at her through the mirror, her expression is softer.
“You happy, Marcus?” she asks quietly, and for once, there’s no sarcasm in her voice.
I pause, the weight of the moment settling in my chest. The answer is simple.
“Yeah, Vic,” I say softly. “I am.”
Her smile blooms, wide and genuine, and for a second we’re just two siblings who survived the same war zone of a childhood, finally finding our way to something better.
She stands, crossing the room with more grace than I’ll ever give her credit for. Handing me one of the flutes, she clinks hers against mine. “To happiness. And to you, finally pulling your head out of your ass.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Cheers to that.”
We both take a sip, the moment settling into something quieter.
“I didn’t think we’d get here,” she admits softly, breaking the silence. “Not you and me. Not this family. After everything with Mom, after Dad... I thought the Greyson legacy was just... cold boardrooms and empty houses.”
I swallow hard, the memories still unpleasant, “So did I.”
“But then…” She exhales, smiling wistfully. “Then I met Avery.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah.”
“God, Marcus,” she laughs quietly, almost to herself. “I brought her into our lives because she was smart and kind and... everything I wasn’t. I never thought—never dared hope—she’d be the one to break through that stubborn shell of yours.”
I smirk. “Takes one to know one.”
“Touché.” Her grin softens, and she steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “But seriously... I’m proud of you. I don’t say it enough, but I am.”
I blink, momentarily stunned.
“Vic, I—” My voice falters, and I clear my throat. “I don’t think I’d be standing here without you.”
She tilts her head, brow raised. “Obviously.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m serious. You never gave up on me. Even when I deserved it. You called me out when I was an ass. And... you brought Avery into our lives.” My voice drops, rough with emotion. “You gave me the chance to love her. To have this.”
Her eyes shimmer, and she waves a hand dramatically. “Ugh, stop. You’ll ruin my mascara.”
I huff a laugh, setting my glass down. “Thank you, Vic. Really.”
“Anytime, big brother.” She smirks, wiping under her eyes quickly. “Besides, if you screw this up, I’ll make your life hell.”
“Noted.”
She squeezes my shoulder one last time, then steps back. “Come on. Let’s get you married.”
As she heads for the door, I take a deep breath, feeling something settle inside me.
This is it. This is love. And I’m ready.
The gardens glow in the soft golden hour light, every leaf and petal bathed in warmth. The simple archway ahead, draped with soft greenery and delicate blooms, is understated but perfect—just like her.
Rows of chairs are filled with only the people who matter most, quiet murmurs drifting through the air. At the front, the boys proudly flanking me in their matching tiny suits, their grins wide enough to split their faces.
“Do you think Mommy’s nervous?” Darius whispers loudly.
“Nah,” Desmond replies, shifting from foot to foot. “She’s braver than Daddy.”
I stifle a laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Desmond grins up at me. “You got this, Dad.”
And just like that, my nerves settle.
Then, the music shifts. I look up, and my heart stops.
Avery steps onto the path, every inch of her glowing in the fading light. The cream-colored gown hugs her figure perfectly, the fabric flowing like water with each step.
Her curls catch the sunlight, bouncing softly around her shoulders, and in her hands, a bouquet of multi-colored roses—cut from these very gardens just this morning.
But it’s her smile that undoes me.
Soft. Certain. A quiet promise.
“Whoa,” Darius and Desmond say in unison, eyes wide.
I exhale shakily. “I know, right?”
The boys giggle softly, but when Avery’s eyes meet mine, the rest of the world fades away.
This isn’t just the woman I fell for all those years ago. She’s the mother of my sons. The heart of my home. The piece of me I didn’t know was missing until I found her.
This is my past. My present. My forever.
And as she walks toward me, I know—I’ll never stop falling for her.
Avery stands beneath the archway. It’s surreal, this moment.
The officiant nods to her, and she takes a steady breath. Of course, she’s prepared. Avery always is.
Her voice, steady and warm, cuts through the quiet.
“You once told me you didn’t believe in perfect,” she begins, eyes locked on mine. “Good, because I don’t either.”
The guests chuckle softly, and so do I. She always knows how to lighten the moment.
“But what I do believe in,” she pauses, her voice turning quieter. “Is us.”
A hush falls over the crowd, the weight of her words settling over everyone; over me.
“I believe in the way you show up,” she continues, eyes glimmering. “The way you tried so hard to resist and still lost.”
A ripple of laughter, even from Victoria, but all I can do is swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“I believe in the way you love our boys. Unconditionally. Fiercely. And the way I know—no matter what—we’ll always be real.”
Her voice cracks on that last word, and damn it, my vision blurs. I blink rapidly, fighting the sting behind my eyes.
Avery smirks knowingly. “You’re trying really hard not to cry, aren’t you?”
A wave of laughter from our guests. Victoria snorts into her champagne flute.
I clear my throat, shaking my head. “Not crying.”
“Sure,” she teases softly, then hands the moment over to me with a gentle squeeze of my hand.
The officiant looks my way. My turn.
“Seven years ago,” I start quietly, my voice rough, “I thought love was something I could control.”
“That letting myself want you was reckless.”
A muscle in my jaw clenches. My voice drops lower. “But it wasn’t reckless, Avery.”
The crowd leans in, the moment holding all of us together.
“It was inevitable.”
Her lips part slightly, eyes shimmering, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her right now.
“You showed me that love isn’t about control. It’s about letting go. About being present, even when it’s messy and complicated. And there’s no one else I’d rather do messy and complicated with than you.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence.
And then?—
“Mommy,” Desmond whispers loudly—too loudly—“is Daddy crying?”
The entire garden erupts in laughter. Avery lets out a surprised bark of laughter, covering her mouth with her bouquet.
Victoria? She cackles, full and unrestrained, slapping her thigh like this is the funniest thing she’s seen all year.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, shaking my head as chuckles ripple through the crowd.
“Not crying,” I mutter gruffly, pulling Desmond into a side hug.
Desmond squints up at me, dubious. “Are you sure?”
I sigh and wait a beat.
“…Maybe.”
Avery doubles over laughing, and even Darius giggles, tugging on Desmond’s sleeve. “Told you,” he whispers.
The officiant clears his throat, fighting a smile. “Shall we proceed?”
Avery straightens, eyes still sparkling with amusement, and I swear, I could live in this moment forever.
“Yeah,” I murmur, locking eyes with her. “Let’s do this.”
When we exchange rings, her fingers tremble slightly against mine, but her gaze stays steady. I slip the delicate band onto her finger, and for the first time, I feel the weight of what this means.
Not just a symbol. A promise.
The officiant’s voice is soft but sure. “You may kiss the bride.”
I don’t hesitate.
I pull her close, one arm curling around her waist, the other clasps her hand as I lean in. She exhales a soft, surprised laugh just before my lips meet hers. I dip her low, the cheers and applause fading into the background, and kiss her like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.
Because it is.
The crowd cheers, the boys giggle, and Victoria wolf-whistles like the menace she is. But in this moment, it’s just Avery and me.
When I pull back, our foreheads rest together, breaths mingling.
“I love you,” I murmur softly, so only she can hear.
She smiles, her voice a whisper against my lips. “Took you long enough, Greyson.”
I chuckle quietly, holding her close.
Her hands tighten around my neck.
“You’re really not crying?” she whispers, teasing.
I smirk softly, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “No tears. Just love.”
Her smile is everything.
As we turn to face our family and friends—our boys cheering the loudest, of course—only one thought runs through my mind.