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Hunter does the same, his touch lingering.
“With this ring, I thee wed.”
Then the officiant grins.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Hunter doesn’t wait.
He cups my face and kisses me deeply, sealing his vow with a promise only we understand. The kiss isn’t tasteful like we practiced but somewhat lewd, considering it’s a sacred ceremony, but my guess is that everyone understands because when we’re finished, the crowd erupts in a loud cheer.
Deuce lets out a pleasant gurgle, and we both kiss him on the forehead, sealing our bond as a family even more.
The celebration moves to the terrace, string lights twinkling above us as our friends and family raise their glasses.
Vaughn is the first to toast.
“To Megan,” he says, lifting his glass. “For taming a fucking beast.”
Laughter fills the space.
Christian stands next, glancing at Lena briefly before speaking. “To Hunter, for finally accepting that love doesn’t make you weak—it makes you powerful.”
I squeeze Hunter’s hand, my chest tightening at his words.
Lena goes last, her eyes warm. “To my big brother and my best friend. May your love always be as powerful and exciting as it is now.”
Hunter smirks, pulling me closer. “Oh, don’t worry. It will be.”
Everyone laughs.
Several people come to our table and introduce themselves to me, but I realize I’ll never remember all their names exceptfor one, Ben Pierre, since we spent a lot of time discussing his invitation during our prewedding negotiation.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Middleton. Thank you for including me in your celebration,” he says with a heavy Haitian accent.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Pierre. I’m glad you could join us.”
“May your union be blessed with many more sons.”
Or daughters, I think to myself, but I dare not correct him and thank him politely anyway.
After a moment, I look around, soaking in the moment—and then I see her.
Naomi.
She’s standing near the back, looking unsure, hesitant.
She looks good.
She has long goddess braids in her hair and is wearing a sparkly gold dress that complements her skin tone. I remember how she’s big on dressing for her undertones—she has warm ones, and mine are neutral. I remember because she taught me that.
I glance at Hunter, who is watching me carefully.
“You… invited her?” I whisper.
Hunter nods. “Figured it was time for you to decide how you wanted to handle it.”
I inhale deeply, trying to figure out what the hell I feel. Our last conversation wasn’t the best. I told her the ball was in her court, but now it’s in mine whether I wanted it to be or not.