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Gabe looked down at the goat. It was a better focus, all in all. Besides, Ron might start chewing shoelaces if someone wasn’t diligent. But the goat stood there, happily creepy as all get out in his Christmas-themed sweater.

Next to Gabe, Alex swallowed. Very audibly.

“You’ll be fine,” Gabe said quietly, glancing up. Becca was now stepping out of the sleigh, pretty as a picture and sweet as candy all dolled up in her simple, white dress, something like holly tangled up in her fancy hairdo. She flashed the widest, brightest smile down the aisle, and even Gabe had to admit it gave his cold, black heart a little spark of warmth.

“Yeah. Sure.” Alex took a deep breath and let it out. “We’ve been through worse.”

“You sure as hell haven’t been through better,” Gabe said in a moment of emotional honesty he couldn’t say he was comfortable with.

Becca hugged Hick as the music for her procession began to drift through the barn. Sandra met her at the beginning of the aisle runner and began to walk her daughter down it.

Gabe felt the goat brush his pants leg, Ron’s mouth getting perilously close to his shoes. “God, we could do without the goat.” He nudged the thing away.

“I’d take a million goats,” Alex said, his voice suspiciously hoarse, his eyes on nothing and no one but Becca.

“Don’t let her know you said that,” Gabe replied, but he had no more smart quips after that because she looked beautiful. Perfect. So damn happy it hurt.

Alex had been through hell, before and after war. Seen the worst humanity had to offer, and sometimes the best in the face of it. Together, they had lost friends, good men, honorable men who’d left families behind.

In this moment, there was nothing but joy and love and hope. A universe-deep goodness as Sandra handed Becca to Alex. As Alex and Becca grinned at each other, shiny-eyed. As they pledged to love each other for the rest of their lives, scratchy-voiced and committed. To each other. To love and hope.

They said I do. The small crowd cheered, and they kissed an inappropriately long time that had a few of Sandra’s friends whispering behind their hands.

Gabe’s heart did not grow three sizes, as he’d assured Jack and Alex it never would.

But in that moment, it might have grown one.

* * *

Monica sat on a long wooden bench, very happy the snow hadn’t gotten bad enough that the cake hadn’t made it. Because real wedding cake was hard to beat, especially when the alternative was Twinkies.

Most of the couples in attendance were dancing. Alex and Becca, happy and oblivious. Rose’s sweet little baby bump between her and Jack reminded Monica a little too much what that was like. So much promise in the spark of a tiny life inside you, and a man who looked at you like you were carrying the world.

Almost ten years had dulled that sharp pang of loss, so these days it was just a dull ache. More generic than specific to Dex. But it still made her a little misty, and mostly she wanted to be happy. Happy for her friends and happy she got to witness it.

Besides, she had Colin. He was in the corner playing with his handheld video game since there was no one even near his age to talk to, and he’d behaved so well. He’d talked with people—mostly Gabe—but had been sociable and polite with other adults for the duration of the wedding and half the reception before she’d given him the video game go-ahead.

Monica finished her cake, looking around the room. It was only when her gaze landed on Gabe that she realized she’d been searching for him.

Her stomach did that obnoxious swoop that reminded her of being an innocent, clueless teenager. She had given herself quite the inner lecture when it had done that as she’d glanced at him as she’d walked up the aisle, but apparently, the lecture hadn’t taken root.

She felt shaky and like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She looked away, knowing her cheeks were getting warm. Could she be any more of adoofus?

She pushed the plate onto the table, trying to casually look back over the room around her. She should focus on Colin. Remind herself she was a grown up. An in-charge, adult woman. Who could flirtatiously banter with an all-too-attractive former SEAL and come out on top.

Except,on toponly sounded sexual, and God, sex was one thing she was definitely not on top of.

Get yourself together.

She felt someone approach her, but she faked interest in the last vestiges of frosting on her plate. Then a hand thrust into her vision. A very large hand with a white scar across the knuckles.

“Come on,” Gabe said gruffly.

She frowned at his outstretched hand, then up at him, steeling herself against the swoony-stomach feeling. “Come on what?”

“We’re going to dance.”

She laughed, but he didn’t drop his hand or laugh along with her.