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“What? Right now? Seriously?”

He boops me on the nose, and I smack his hand away. “I said to trust me.” He grins and spins on his heels, walking over to a gentleman who appears to have been expecting our arrival.

The two of them talk for a minute before gesturing for me to join them. Even though I’m confused as fuck, my feet move me toward him.

“Ready to say ‘I do,’ firecracker?” Brock asks, his tone a mixture of sheepish and excited.

“Here?” I ask. I’m equal parts elated and melancholy. Because while this is a stunning venue, it doesn’t feel right without my bestie.

“Yeah, baby, here.” He nods and I see Stacia, West, and his mom step around a group of people.

My best friend squeals and tackle-hugs me—thankfully Brock was right behind me and kept us upright. “OMG! You’re getting married!”

My eyes gloss over with tears. “I am! Wait, how are you here?” I dumbly ask.

She tips her head to my fiancé. I spin to face him. “Y-you planned this? While I slept?” He nods. “Then let’s fucking get married!”

“Way to set the bar high, cousin,” West growls, patting him on the back as we take our places.

“You heard the lady,” Brock says to the officiant.

“Brock and Abigail, please join hands.” We do. “Brock, please repeat after me?—”

Brock cuts him off. “Actually, I’ve prepared my own vows, if that’s okay?” Our officiant nods. “Abby Jane, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re my wild, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re my light when it’s dark.My savinggrace. Everything is better with you by my side, and I can’t fucking imagine spending my life with anyone but you. I promise to love you through it all—good and bad—always.”

Big, happy tears roll down my cheeks, probably ruining my makeup, but I don’t have it in me to care. “Do you have your own vows prepared?” the officiant asks me.

I snort out a wobbly laugh. “Nope. I’m gonna wing it. Brock Larson, you’re one of the most infuriating, most impossible men I’ve ever met. You challenge me every day to be my best self, and you keep me grounded. You’re my rock, and I can’t wait to grow old with you. And so help me God, you better still love me when my tattoos are so wrinkly you can’t tell what they are anymore.”

This time it’s Brock who’s laughing.

“Brock, do you take Abigail to be your wife?”

“Hell yes,” my groom murmurs.

“Abigail, do you take Brock to be your husband?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

Our officiant smirks and continues. “Please present the rings.”

“Wait!” I exclaim. “I don’t have a ring for you, Brock!”

“No worries, firecracker. I took care of it.” He peels back the little Band-Aid that slipped my notice, revealing a little firecracker tattooed on his ring finger.

My eyes widen and my heart races. “You did that for me?” I whisper.

“Don’t you know I’ll do anything for you?” He reaches out and wipes my tears away.

Once my ring is blessed, we move on to the good part. “You may now kiss your bride.”

I wrap my arms around Brock’s neck, and he dips me low, claiming my lips with his, and all I can think is…if this is what forever feels like, sign me the fuck up.

PROLOGUE

NATALIE

Alden Warner. My brother’s best friend. The boy I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.