Page 148 of Gabriel

I tiptoed into our bedroom and put the wedding dress in the back of my closet. It wasn’t anything elaborate, just simple, and more me than any dress my mom or Liana had delivered. Those were currently crowding a different spot in my closet and would be donated first thing tomorrow with Luis’s help.

The call must have ended, because the apartment went silent.

I changed out of my clothes quickly, and instead of putting on my usual—shorts and a T-shirt—I opted for one of Gabriel’s shirts. I loved how his scent wrapped around me like a blanket.

I made my way out of the room and down the hallway. The whole penthouse had an open concept, which made it easy to spot my man seated on the midnight-gray leather sectional in the center of the room.

One arm was draped casually over the backrest, the other resting near his cane. His sleeves were rolled up to the forearm,shirt unbuttoned just enough to be considered a threat to my composure.

For days, I’d been watching him—adjusting, recalibrating, navigating his new reality like a man unwilling to bow to it. And now, here he was. Strong. Steady. And mine.

He tilted his head slightly toward me.

His eyes—still blue and searching, though no longer seeing—were pointed just off-center from where I stood near the kitchen island.

I crossed the room barefoot, the floors cool beneath my feet. The smooth polished stone reflected the low light and made the space feel larger than it already was. I dropped onto the couch beside him, careful not to jostle the cane as I curled into him on the cushion.

“How was shopping,preciosa?” he asked, his voice all warm honey and dangerous charm, like he hadn’t just sent me into the ninth circle of bridal hell.

“Boring,” I muttered. “I wish we could have just gone to the courthouse and gotten married. This shebang is not me.”

He chuckled. “Shebang?”

“Yes. She. Bang.” I gestured vaguely at the universe. “The glitter, the tulle, the thirty-seven opinions about which shade of white looks ‘less corpse-like’ on me, and Liana treating me like I’m about to be a star in theCorpse’s Bride.”

He bit back a laugh. “A bride with a hint of spice and rage.”

I sighed. “Don’t make me put a dent in your pristine penthouse.”

He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t notice it anyhow.” My chest tightened, although there was no bite to his words. Just facts. “Just make sure your wedding dress has that mermaid-tail thing, otherwise Luis will be so disappointed.”

“Trumpet silhouette.” I shoved my shoulder lightly against his. “And Luis can put that shit on his own woman.”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

I sighed into his shoulder. “I just want to be your wife. I don’t need fifteen floral arrangements and a live harpist to prove it.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Then let’s compromise. We’ll have the harpist, but she only plays soundtracks from Stephen King movies.”

I snorted. “Deal.”

He smiled, although he stared out into the empty space. “Want to watch a movie?”

“No.”

“I thought you loved movies and popcorn,” he remarked.

I didn’t want to stare at the screen while he couldn’t see it.

“I just…” I trailed off, pressing my lips together, unsure how to relay that I was scared of peace.

I wasn’t afraid of his blindness or our enemies or the ticking clock of legacy. I was afraid of the quiet. Of having everything and not knowing what to do with it. I only knew how to survive chaos, but living in calm seemed to be a whole new ballgame.

Gabriel tugged me closer with gentle insistence until I tucked my legs beneath me and moved closer so he could wrap his arm around my waist. His body was warm, solid. Familiar in all the ways that mattered.

“You don’t have to hold your breath waiting for the next explosion. Sometimes, it’s okay to just be,” he said, his voice a low murmur against my hair.