Page 18

T he tent glows like a lantern beneath the twilight sky, strung with tiny white lights that twinkle like fireflies.

Summer air brushes against my shoulders, warm and soft, filled with the scent of roses, champagne, and the distant brine of the Long Island Sound.

I'm not sure how many glasses I've had—three, maybe four? Or was it five?

Whatever the count, the world spins a little whenever I blink too long.

Everything feels too bright, too loud, too beautiful.

But I feel him.

Balor.

My husband.

The sparkling blue diamond on my finger catches the overhead lights as I lift my hand.

It’s exquisite—princess cut, set in platinum, just the right size to catch the eye without screaming wealth.

Understated. Elegant.

Perfect.

Because he knew. Somehow, he just knew what I’d want. Like he’s been paying attention to me for far longer than I realized.

“Whoa, easy, Diamond Girl,” Balor murmurs, steadying me with his strong hands.

I sway a little in my heels, my legs unsteady beneath the satin and tulle of my gown.

His palm slides around my waist like it belongs there.

Like I belong to him.

Maybe I do.

I loop my arms around his neck, ignoring the swell of laughter from our guests behind us.

The Volkov Clan is here in full force—boisterous, rowdy, impossible to ignore.

There’s love in their chaos, in their teasing and shouting and plates of food. They’re my blood.

But Balor?

He only has Connor.

That realization hits me like cold water to the face.

And suddenly, I hate the champagne in my veins and the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” I say, voice soft and uncertain. “How come you didn’t invite your mom or dad?”

He stiffens, just slightly. A hitch in the breath I feel against my skin.

“What?” he says, tone guarded. “Oh. Uh, my mom passed away when I was a kid. My father died about ten years ago. But even if he was alive, I’d never invite him anywhere.”

The words land heavy. I blink up at him, my vision suddenly too blurry.

“Balor, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. She was great. While I had her, she was great. My grandmother raised me after that. She was the real deal. Hard as nails, soft when it mattered. I lost her when I was twenty-three.”

I press my cheek to his chest, fingers curling against the fine fabric of his shirt.

He smells like cedar and heat. Like something solid and unmoving. Like safety.

“There’s a few uncles and cousins left, but Connor’s the only one I talk to. The only one who acknowledges me. See I’m not a real Callahan, I’m the bastard son of an affair that apparently tore my father’s marriage up.”

My heart aches.

Because, for all his strength, all his unshakable presence, Balor is more alone than anyone I’ve ever met.

And I want to change that.

“You’re not the bastard anything,” I tell him firmly. “You’re Balor Cruz.”

“That I am. And now, you’re Mrs. Cruz.”

“That I am,” I repeat, and I swear, shivers race up and down my body as his gaze glitters down at me.

But then the old fear creeps in—quiet and insidious.

I ran from danger once. When I had no choice. And is that what I’m doing?

Running from danger into the arms of the one man strong enough to shelter me?

Is this marriage a shield? A temporary fix?

Is he planning to walk away once the heat dies down?

God, I don’t want that. I want this to be real.

I want him to be real.

Because the way he’s looking at me right now—eyes fierce, jaw tight, like I’m something sacred—is unraveling every wall I’ve ever built.

And I know the truth.

I’m not hiding in him.

I’m choosing to be with him.

He’s not an escape.

He’s the destination.

I lift my head slowly and find his mismatched eyes—one glittering, one stormy.

“I’m glad it’s you,” I whisper. “That I married you.”

He doesn’t smile.

Doesn’t speak.

But he cups my jaw and brushes his thumb over my cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like I’m his.

And as the music shifts and my cousins begin dragging people onto the dance floor, I find myself pulled into his arms once more.

Still spinning.

Still uncertain.

But more grounded than I’ve ever been.

Because I know who’s holding me.

And I trust him with everything I am.