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Camila’s eyes shine, and I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her ring.
I asked Mrs. Evans if she knew what kind of cake Camila liked, and she told me of Camila’s love for cakes decorated with real flowers. It wasn’t hard to find the best bakery in all of London for the special request. I went with a three-tier cake, each tier a different flavor.
I remembered when she made the cookies for work, she mentioned loving the simple vanilla-raspberry combination—so that became the base.
For the second tier, I picked my favorite flavor, chocolate stout.
And the top tier was in honor of Ava—strawberry lime.
The flowers they used are all in different shades of pink, forming a delicate spiral. It’s absolutely beautiful.
Because it was such short notice, I had to pay a rush fee. The cake alone was fifteen hundred quid, but it was worth every single penny.
Camila places a kiss on my cheek, her touch sending a shiver through me.
“If every kiss is a reward, then, wife, I’ll make it my life’s work to fulfill your every desire.” Camila shudders and immediately blushes, and I love that I have this effect on her. I hope she knows it’s mutual.
She trails a few kisses across my cheek, getting dangerously close to my mouth. I know I can’t kiss her like I want to, so I reluctantly turn my face and give her a quick peck on her lips.
We cut the cake and take more pictures. Once everyone has eaten at least a slice, I announce it’s time to dance with my bride.
Camila looks at me with curious eyes.
I nod at Gabo, who connects his phone to the sound system. The opening chords of “Volví a Nacer” by Carlos Vives start playing throughout the house speakers.
Camila lips part in surprise. “I love this song,” she whispers as I slide my hands around her waist.
Her hands find my shoulders, and I bring her flush against me like she belongs there—because she does.
I’ve never been a great dancer, but Camila catches on easily and moves with grace.
“Just follow my lead,” she murmurs in my ear.
And that’s what I do.
I let go of everything and get lost in her gaze as she guides me across the makeshift ballroom.
“When did you have time to plan all this?” she asks, her voice full of wonder.
I brush my lips close to her ear. “That’s easy,” I utter softly. “Every night, after leaving your flat, I would come home so frustrated that I couldn’t sleep with you by my side. I had to deal with insomnia somehow.”
Camila looks at me like I just hung the moon for her.
Then, as the chorus begins, she starts singing like Carlos Vives is in the room with us.
“Quiero casarme contigo, quedarme a tu lado, ser el bendecido con tu amor—”I want to marry you, stay by your side, be blessed by your love.
There’s so much raw emotion radiating from her that it hits me like a tidal wave.
I don’t even think, I just join in, our voices fusing together like a melody meant to be sung.
Gabo and Isa jump in, dancing along with us, filling the room with joy and laughter.
Ava asks Mrs. Evans to dance, and suddenly there is a huge celebration in Mayfair.
I don’t think this day could have turned out any better.
“Ava, would you like to play with Isa and me for a little while before we head back to Italy?” Gabo asks, his tone gentle.