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I shake my head. She’d think I was out of my mind, that’s for sure. I glance up briefly, catching a glimpse of the sky before Keegan walks me forward and the trellis hides my view. “She can.”
She’s definitely here. Watching me. Cheering me on.
When I gaze ahead, I almost stumble. The look on all three men’s faces mirrors the type of adoration I’ve seen in movies. Each of them stares at me as if I’m the only girl in the world. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. It doesn’t matter that I’m surrounded by dead bodies. It only matters that it’s us.
I walk faster, and Keegan presses my hand right before he hands me off to Oliver. He looks as dashing as ever. He’s the only person I know who can save me from a hostage scenario, step over dead bodies to marry me, and still look as if he just stepped out of his room after getting ready.
“Skip to the good parts,” I tell the priest.
He rolls his eyes but does as I ask. “Do you…” He peers at Oliver.
“Oliver,” my English heartthrob provides.
“Do you, Oliver, take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do.”
“Do you, Eden, take this man to be your husband?”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach and tears gather in my eyes. “I do.”
Oliver doesn’t even wait for the priest. He plasters his lips against mine and drinks from me like I’m the nectar needed to live. “You’re mine, Edie, love. It’s official now.”
“Next,” the priest says dryly.
Oliver steps to my right, holding my hand as Alaric moves into his position. “Do you…”
“Alaric Barclay III.”
“Do you, Alaric Barclay III, take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do.” His lips quiver, and I reach up, tracing them, the flower brushing against his cheek.
“And do you, Eden, take this man to be your husband?”
“I do.”
The same feeling overtakes me, almost sweeping me off my feet.
Alaric waits until he’s told, “You may kiss the bride.”
Oliver lets me go as Alaric’s arms wind around my waist. He dips me, his lips lightly brushing at first, until he envelops me heart and soul.
We don’t part until the priest clears his throat. “Next.”
Alaric squeezes my hand and moves out of the way for Leonardo Jarvis to take his place next to me. He has blood splattered across his torso, a few red marks also dotting his face, and the only thing I can think is that this is the perfect way to marry a man like Leo Jarvis. Our life together won’t be perfectly laid out. It’ll be messy and dirty, but that’s when life happens—in the messy parts. The parts where I’ll want to wring his neck and then scream from his cock fucking me into oblivion.
He takes my hands. “How did you know I wanted to get married in front of a massacre?”
I chuckle. “Because I know you.”
“Do you—”
“Leo,” he grunts.
“Leo,” the priest mimics, “take this woman to be your wife?”
“Forever and ever,” he commits.