Page 45

Roman

O ne month ago, I asked Gabby to marry me. And now here we are in the backyard of our brand-new home, surrounded by our people, sunlight streaming through the trees as Rip stands before us, grinning like he was born to officiate.

I didn’t want to wait another minute to call this woman my wife.

She said yes, then somehow, in between moving into this too-big house and juggling a design business that exploded overnight, shemadeher own wedding dress. I half-expected her to walk down the aisle in her Mrs. Roper gown, and I would’ve loved her just the same.

“Love doesn’t have to be perfect,” Rip says. “It just has to be true.” As those words ring true in my brain, I squeeze Gabby’s hand and Rip continues with, “You may now kiss,” Rip says.

I don’t hesitate. As I pull Gabby in and kiss her, our first kiss as husband and wife, I know without a doubt, I’m the luckiest man alive.

We turn toward our guests. They rise in a wave of applause as we step out from under the floral arbor. I take Gabby’s hand. She squeezes mine. And just like that, we walk into our forever.

Kids toss petals at our feet, every one of them dressed in Gabby’s line,Puck Couture.

A perfect, chaotic, glittery parade. After her designs aired on national television, her inbox blew up.

She had to hit pause just to make the dress she’s wearing now.

She also needed a proper studio, which is why I insisted on a bigger house.

It’s big but cozy, and sure, it’s too much space for now, but I like the idea of filling those rooms with tiny feet and wild laughter.

Gabby says she’ll need a team of pint-sized models anyway.

My brother catches my eye. He’s standing with Avery, both beaming. They pull us into hugs. My parents, all smiles, are next. They’re always good at appearances, but what Gabby and I have isn’t just for show. We fight fair. We talk. We listen. We love out loud, and behind closed doors, too.

Her parents embrace us, welcoming me into their family like they’d been waiting years for it. As the music begins and the caterers reveal the feast, somehow this whole wedding came together in record time, a blur of favors, friends, and fairy dust.

We take our seats beneath the canopy lights. Laughter bounces through the air. Dinner is served. Toasts are made. And then, it’s time. Our first dance. We step onto the makeshift dance floor, just the two of us beneath a canopy of stars and string lights. Her hand finds mine. The world blurs.

“We did it,” I murmur, pulling my wife close. “But it’s a shame about the dress.”

Her eyes widen instantly. “Wait, what? You don’t like it? I mean, I only had a month. I know it’s not as ornate as I wanted, but?—”

I press a finger gently to her lips. “Gabby. I love the dress.” I slide my hand down the small of her back, feeling the delicate row of buttons under my palm.

“I’m just saying... all these tiny buttons?

Withmy big fingers?” I hold up one of them dramatically.

“It’s going to take me a week to get this thing off you. ”

A laugh bursts from her lips. “I knewI should’ve worn my Mrs. Roper house dress.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I say. “We wouldn’t have made it through the vows.”

She grins, then leans in, lips brushing my ear. Her voice drops to a sultry whisper. “Maybe I used the smallest buttons on purpose. So you couldn’t get it off.”

I pull back, brows raised. “Why would you do that to me?”

“Because…” she begins, brushing her lips against mine, “…maybe I want you to tear it off.”

My breath catches, half groan, half surrender, as I pull her flush against me. “You are so going to get it.”

“I hopeso,” she teases, her laugh soft and wicked as she kisses me again, slow and sweet.

“You are stunning in this gown,” I say, needing her to hear it, needing her to feelit.

She smiles, hands smoothing my lapels. “And you clean up pretty damn well yourself, husband.”

I press my lips to hers, losing myself in her warmth, her joy, this moment. When the song ends and shifts into something faster, we stay locked in each other’s arms, not ready to let go. Not yet. A tap on my shoulder breaks the spell.

Cass grins at me. “Mind if I cut in?” He gives Gabby a playful wink. “Steal the dance I never got.”

I smirk and step back. “Be my guest.”

We all laugh, and I watch, heart light, as Gabby slides into his arms without hesitation. A few months ago, the sight might’ve twisted something in my chest. But now, I see it clearly. He’s not the enemy. He never was.

There was a time I wanted to knock Cass flat.

But I didn’t understand how much pain he was hiding, how deeply he’d been hiding himself.

After he went public with his relationship with Todd, his father turned his back on him.

It was brutal. But Cass has shown me who he really is since then.

He’s not a bad guy. In fact, he even offered to help Gabby with Puck Couture.

She turned him down, said she wanted to build it on her own, but still, it meant something.

I scan the crowd and spot Todd, standing alone by the edge of the dance floor. Without a second thought, I grab him and spin him into a goofy two-step. Gabby and Cass laugh as Todd groans and stumbles through it.

She’s forgiven him. And that’s who Gabby is. She’s got this wild, fierce heart, but it always leans toward grace. Toward healing. It’s one of the many, many reasons I fell in love with her. And every day, I fall a little more.

Someone tugs on my pant leg. I glance down to find Stella, grinning up at me. “Sorry, Todd,” I say with a wink. “I’ve gotten a better offer.”

He laughs as I scoop up the little blonde firecracker.

“Rara!” she squeals, arms flailing as I spin her.

She's decked out head-to-toe inPuck Couture, looking like a miniature runway queen. We dance like lunatics, me, Stella, then along comes a swarm of giggling kids and grown-ups who’ve lost all sense of rhythm and shame.

The music cuts out, and Maeve, Gabby’s maid of honor, raises her arms. “Time to toss the bouquet!”

Rip, naturally, is my best man andthe officiant. A multitasker with no off-switch. I scan the crowd for him. Where the heck did he go? I should be worried, right?

Gabby turns back to the line of hopeful singles. She lifts the bouquet, aims... And just as the flowers take flight, Rip walks out of the house, and gets smacked square in the face.

“What the…?” he mumbles, blinking as he catches the bouquet on reflex. The crowd bursts into laughter, but it’s not just because of the accidental catch.

It’s the Elvis costume. White bedazzled jumpsuit. Pompadour wig. Sunglasses.

I blink. “What the hellare you doing?”

Rip strikes a pose, bouquet in hand. “Does this mean I’m next?” he says, waggling his brows. “Too bad. I can’t marry myself.” He hands the flowers back to Gabby with exaggerated flair. She rolls her eyes and tosses them again.

This time, Maria catches them. The crowd cheers. I whip around to find Tuck—his jaw hanging open like he just saw the future. Which, honestly, maybe he did.

Rip steps into the spotlight again, clearly loving every second. “This isn’t Vegas,” he says, “but if anyone wants to tie the knot tonight…” He coughs into his fist. “Tuck and Maria.” Laughter erupts. He points both thumbs at himself. “Come see me.”

I shake my head, grinning. “No, Rip. Just…no.”

He winks, and I swear, Boston has no idea what’s coming for it.

But me? Well, I’ve got everything I need.

I glance around for my bride. She’s across the yard, laughing with Maeve, sunlight hitting the buttons running down her back like a trail of stars. My heart lurches.

Love doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be her…

Now it’s time for me to move, because…buttons.

***

Thank you so much for reading, STICK FIGHT in my Boston Bucks series. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved writing it. Stayed tuned for Rip and Charley’s story in Stick Break.

Interested in leaving a review? Please do! Reviews help readers connect with books that work for them. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.

Happy Reading,

Cathryn