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“He legit said she thinks vodka is perfume,” Ellie gasped, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.

Jane cackled. “He thinks you’re made of clouds and fairy dust.”

They were all laughing now, full and unfiltered.

“I do,” Lorenzo’s voice suddenly cut in from behind her. The group stilled as he appeared like a shadow.

He pulled her gently by the waist, eyes flicking over her face like he was checking for any signs of danger, fatigue, dehydration—hell, possibly a sneeze.

“You shouldn’t be standing this long,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Krystal raised a brow, mock-annoyed. “I’m pregnant, Lorenzo. Not sick.”

“All the same,” he said, like that was the only explanation needed.

At the nearby table, Adrian, Dante, and Christian leaned in like spectators at a live comedy show.

“Okay,” Adrian said, nudging Christian. “New game—how long before Lorenzo takes that lemonade out of her hand and replaces it with water?”

“I give it ten minutes,” Christian said.

“Five,” Dante smirked.

“I say one,” Darren chimed in from the side, lazily sipping his whiskey with a grin. “He’s leaning closer again.”

As if perfectly choreographed, Lorenzo narrowed his eyes at Krystal’s drink.

Krystal caught the movement. Her hand immediately wrapped tighter around the glass. “Touch my lemonade,” she warned in a deadpan voice, “and I will bite you.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the group.

“Now, who’s getting married next?” Ellie asked brightly, glancing around as she leaned into Sawyer’s side.

“Triston,” Raiden drawled, appearing beside Jane with perfect timing. He slipped an arm around her waist with the ease of a man who’d done it a thousand times before, his eyes flicking toward the scene near the mic stand. Triston was now standing in the middle of the dance floor, spinning in place like a tipsy ballerina.

“I’m a free spirit!” Triston declared, arms wide as he twirled, champagne sloshing dangerously in his glass.

“You’re a drunk spirit,” Christian called from behind.

Stella buried her face in her hands. “Why is he like this?”

“Hey, Triston!” Sienna shouted from her seat beside Adrian. “Propose to the microphone next. You two already have chemistry.”

Triston bowed toward the mic stand. “Darling, you’ve always been here for me.”

“I swear to God,” muttered Dante from behind his wine glass, though the twitch in his lips betrayed amusement.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo had stopped hovering and simply settled behind Krystal like an overprotective shadow. His hand rested gently on her shoulder, thumb stroking absentmindedly over her skin. She leaned into the touch with a soft smile, holding her drink hostage like it was sacred.

Around them, laughter flowed. Jokes flew. Glasses clinked. Kisses were stolen mid-sentence. Some danced barefoot on the grass, others swayed slowly under the fairy lights.

People who had once been strangers, now tied together by fate, love, chaos, and a whole lot of unforgettable memories.

And as fireworks lit the sky, the music shifted and fireworks lit the velvet sky outside. Gold and crimson bursts painted the night. Gasps and cheers echoed across the garden.

Krystal tilted her head up, watching the lights reflect in Lorenzo’s eyes. Her hand slipped into his.

“This is the life I always wanted,” she whispered, heart swelling.

Lorenzo bent to kiss her temple, his lips warm and soft against her skin. “It’s only the beginning, baby.”

And with that promise, under a sky of light and surrounded by friends turned family, they all stepped into their forever.

***