Epilogue
“I’m thinkingof starting a new app since the Golden Apple one did so well,” Caden told me sarcastically. He was being insufferable today. “This one will tell you how long your relationship will really last. I’m thinking of calling it Eye of the Fates.”
“Oh my God, ew,” said Sophie. “That’s awful. Who would pay for that?”
“Only anyone who’s in a relationship that they’re insecure about,” Caden responded dryly, shooting a look at me. “So, everyone.”
Sophie shook her head and walked away, muttering something about a self-fulfilling prophecy. When she was out of earshot, I grabbed my cousin by his lapel and said, “I know that wasn’t a dig at me.”
He had no intention of creating such an app, only to rile me up on my wedding day.
“If the cursed shoe fits,” he said, pulling away and straightening his jacket. “By the way, the wine is great, so I know you didn’t choose it. Tell Jordan she has my compliments.”
He punctuated that statement by draining his glass. I scoffed and walked away, only to be intercepted by a mob of people who wanted to congratulate me. I didn’t recognize them, which probably meant they knew Jordan, so I smiled for her sake even though all I wanted to do was see my bride-to-be.
My teammates were clustered around the hors d’oeuvres table. After news about our relationship went public, they were the ones who had our backs the most. There was some initial blowback because of Jordan’s relationship with my father. However, we were far enough away from New York for the story to never gain traction. And Henry kept his promise to stay the fuck out of our lives.
“The whiskey’s not too bad, eh?” Mark said, raising his glass in a toast.
Kai gave me a nod before walking over. “Congratulations.” He switched his glass to his other hand so he could clap me on the shoulder. “Coach just got here, too, by the way.”
“God.” Amos chuckled. “Hope he doesn’t give you a play-by-play after you walk down the aisle.”
“Jordan’s a great woman,” Logan chimed in. “Don’t fuck this up.”
I bristled and then tamped down those possessive urges that rose up within me whenever her name was mentioned. “Thanks, asshole.”
Chuckling, he walked back to the team. “Anytime, Maxwell.”
Some female guests flitted in front of me, having caught sight of the elusive hockey stars. I could see them pulling out their phones, beginning to ask for selfies, as I continued to make my way toward the direction that the wedding planner had indicated. My path took me by the bar, where some of the guests were taking full advantage of the limitless drinks.
I recognized Jordan’s friend, Piya, holding court with her silent, looming husband. With her bright pink dress and his black suit, they looked like Persephone and Hades. She greeted me with an arched eyebrow, giving me a long, wordless nod before turning away.
While at first, I was furious at Piya for orchestrating Jordan’s escape, I now understood, and even grudgingly respected her for looking after the woman I loved. Perhaps she thought I was going to be like my father. But she needn’t worry. I’d had my taste of what living life as Henry would be like, and it was as bitter as poison.
I had reformed my ways and vowed to never steal Jordan’s sunshine again.
“Where’s my fiancée?” I asked the wedding planner.
She laughed and tapped me on the arm. “You know it’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding.”
I knew of no such thing. I blazed her with the coldest eyes I could manage. “Tell me where my fiancée is,” I repeated icily.
Her smile dropped, and she gave me an unimpressed once-over before gesturing with one long nail to the bar and café table, which had been sectioned off for guests to sit down and play games as they drank.
I followed the patio around and saw Jordan sitting at a table that had been dragged over to the side of the wind as her stylist carefully placed the veil on her artfully curled hair, glowing as if she were the sun and they were all planets in her orbit. Standing beside them, her assistant bounced our newborn daughter, Selene, who fussed and reached out for her goddess mother.
“I can barely see,” Jordan joked, pushing the tulle out of her eyes.
“You just have to be able to see your husband,” the stylist told her, “and from what I’ve been told, he’s quite easy on the eyes.”
“He is,” I said, eliciting a shriek from the stylist and a gasp from Jordan, which caused Selene to cry. I lifted my daughter into my arms and calmed her within seconds, willfully ignoring the angry women shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I was too mesmerized by the sight of my daughter and my soon-to-be wife—who was now glaring at me—and the fact we had made something so small and perfect with my green eyes and her mother’s perfect blonde ringlets.
And while I’d rather keep Selene with me while Jordan got ready, our daughter was a diva who refused to take the bottle. Jordan needed to be around to feed her, no matter how much the separation from my family killed me.
My family… with the woman of my dreams.
“What are you doing here? You know it’s bad luck?—”
“For the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding,” I finished, bouncing my daughter in my arms. I widened my eyes at her until she smiled. “Yes, I know, but I was fed up with watching Caden drink all the wine.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “There’s plenty of wine. And seriously, Xander,” she said, putting her hands on my arms and steering me toward the exit, “you need to leave. I won’t have you jinxing this wedding.”
“You love me,” I said, letting myself be steered, “jinx and all.”
“I do,” she sighed, taking the baby back even as I protested.
Our foreheads rested against each other’s as we took in this moment, our wedding day with our daughter in our arms. At times, I didn’t feel like I deserved any of this, even though nothing would have persuaded me to give up what I had now.
We were supposed to have been married months ago but complications with her pregnancy forced us to move back the date. I would’ve opted for a courthouse marriage but Jordan deserved at least one real wedding. I couldn’t take that from her no matter how badly I’d wanted to seal the deal.
“Do me a favor and get along with your cousins today. Let them have all the wine they want.”
“Only if you kiss me.”
She looked over at the stylist, who was waiting impatiently, and then smiled and shrugged, leaning up to plant a lingering kiss on my lips. She smelled like honeysuckle and dusty sunshine, and it took every inch of my control not to drag her away somewhere and have her all to myself.
“What do you think their story is?” I whispered.
“They’re about to kill you if you don’t leave,” she said, combing her fingers absently through our daughter’s hair, “and that would be really sad because then Selene won’t have a father.”
“I love you, Mrs. Maxwell,” I said.
She beamed at me, and it felt like the sun was shining upon me. “I love you, too, Mr. Maxwell. Now get the puck out of here…”
I laughed and left, while the stylist and assistant rushed in to continue their work, putting my hands in the pockets of my suit.
The bartender already had a Manhattan waiting for me, courtesy of my soon-to-be wife. I took a long, decadent sip, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
But as comfortable as that golden bliss was, it was nothing compared to knowing I had the love of my beautiful goddess of a wife.
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