Page 62 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)
Amara
T he church was small and modern, tucked quietly into a sunlit Miami, its clean lines softened by ivy climbing the stone facade.
Inside, golden candlelight shimmered along the walls, dancing against pale stone and stained glass windows that glowed like jeweled stories that held a hundred whispered prayers, a thousand soft regrets.
But not ours. Never ours.
We hadn’t come here in sorrow, but in triumph. After years of circling each other, we’d found love and would choose each other in every place, time, and universe.
Gabriel stood at the altar like a statue come to life, dressed in black, the cut of his suit sharp against the warmth in his eyes. His shoulders, so often burdened by responsibility, were square and still, but I saw the flicker of emotion in him as I stepped into the aisle.
His head lifted. His mouth parted.
He only saw shadows, but I truly believed he could feel me. He understood me. And in that suspended heartbeat, I knew he always had.
I held my breath, not out of nerves but awe.
The world seemed to hush around us. Time thinned like gauze, soft and glowing, wrapping us in the weight of everything we were, everything we had carried through the years.
To Gabriel’s left, Raphael, Nikola, and Matteo stood in quiet solidarity while my own bridesmaids—Skye, Penelope, and Elira—waited for me.
Nikola, for the first time since his accident, stood tall without his cane.
His eyes weren’t on me. Instead, they were locked on his wife, Skye, radiant in her dress, pride shining from her like sunlight.
She reached out slightly, almost imperceptibly, like she was both grounding him and lifting him.
Elira stood next to her, her smile easy and full of secrets. Raphael was watching his wife, Sailor, with an expression so tender it almost didn’t belong in a room full of witnesses.
Luis, somewhere in the third row, was shaking his head, probably lamenting the absence of a dramatic mermaid shape to my dress, while a wave of friends and family looked on with misty eyes, hushed gasps, and a few not-so-quiet sighs.
But none of that fully registered.
Because all I could see was Gabriel.
And in the space between us, between my spot and the altar, a future full of joy and happiness awaited. It wasn’t the dazzling kind, but a quiet and richer one, although I knew better than to think it wouldn’t be without its challenges.
Nonetheless, it was ours. A happiness built slowly. A love that had waited, watched, endured, and finally, stood waiting with open arms.
The man waiting for me at the altar might have experienced blindness, but he’d always seen me, and that would never change.
As I reached him, he held out his hand like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times.
I slid my hand into his, and he smiled that quiet, knowing smile that hit somewhere deep in my chest.
“You’re here,” he murmured, just for me.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I whispered back.
The priest spoke, but his voice felt distant, almost like background music to something much more sacred unfolding between us.
This man—this complicated, loyal, maddeningly good man—had watched me make mistakes, yet he still waited for me and loved me.
I had spent years pretending I didn’t notice him, didn’t care for him, didn’t love him, didn’t want him, didn’t need him. But now, standing here in a white dress, my fingers laced with his, I finally let myself feel it all.
When it came time for the vows, my voice trembled for the first time in a long time, but I didn’t look away.
“You’re the only constant in my chaos, Gabriel,” I said quietly, holding his hand tighter.
“The one man who looked at all my sharp edges and never flinched. You never asked me to be someone else. You just stayed, despite the obstacles. Despite the challenges. When the world feels tilted, you’re still here, and I love you for it. All of you.”
His fingers brushed over mine gently.
He breathed out a slow exhale, as if he’d been holding it in for days. Then, he spoke his own vows, voice low and reverent.
“I would’ve waited lifetimes for you. For this moment,” he said. “But I’m damn grateful I don’t have to. I love you, Amara. I have for years. You say I stayed, but you’re the only place I’ve ever belonged. And now that I have you, I’m never letting go. No matter what comes next.”
When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, Gabriel found me without hesitation. His hands on my face were warm, steady, familiar. And when he kissed me, it wasn’t perfect or polished or poetic.
It was real.
It was ours.
And for the first time in years, maybe my whole life, I wasn’t hiding my true self anymore.
THE END