Page 76 of The Temptation

My throat tightens, and for a split second, I’m afraid I might. The dress clings in all the right places, the soft shimmer of the fabric catching the light as if it were made to worship her body. But it’s not just the way she looks; it’s the way she carries herself in this moment. Confident, composed, and quietly powerful.

Like a queen …my queen.

I should say something, anything, but my voice is caught somewhere behind the storm in my chest. All I can do is look at her and hope she sees it in my eyes. I’m overwhelmed, undone, and entirely hers for as long as this union lasts.

“She’s a vision,” Father Flannery murmurs beside me, and I wholeheartedly agree.

That little boy inside me, the one who’s been let down, used, and taught not to expect too much, doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He wants to believe that this is real. Thatsheis real. That Lucia is his to keep, but he’s also bracing himself for the moment it all slips away. Because deep down, he knows this woman is too good to be true … too good for him.

My stunned admiration and complete awe are shattered when Lucia casually reaches into her cleavage and pulls out her phone. My eyebrows shoot up as she glances down at the screen and starts tapping frantically with her finger.

What in the hell is she doing?

A few seconds later, I get my answer when an upbeat guitar riff blasts through the surround sound speakers, filling the room with the unmistakable intro to Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

She grins, then winks, with a spark of mischief in her eyes. I should’ve seen it coming; of course she’d put her own spin on today.

My reaction is instant as I smile right back.

She takes a step forward, right foot first, before adding a little shimmy to the adjoining hip. Her left foot is next, and she repeats the process. She does this the entire way down the makeshift aisle, and I can’t help myself. I throw my head back and crack up.

The laugh that bursts out of me is loud and real, cutting straight through the nerves and the weight of everything this day is supposed to be.

I swear, this fucking lunatic is the highlight of my life. She’s absolutely and unequivocally adorable.

By the time she reaches us, I’m beaming like an idiot, completely undone in the best way possible. And just likethat, the tension in my chest gives way to something lighter, something freer. Because this is Lucia. Unpredictable, electric, and impossible not to love.

Love.

The word hits me like a sucker punch, and for a split second, a shot of terror shoots up my spine. I’m not ready to think about that. About what it means, or how dangerous that feeling is.

But before the panic can settle in, Lucia turns to me and says, “Can you hold these for me for a second?”

I take the bouquet from her without a word, watching as she fiddles with her phone to silence the music.

When the room falls quiet, Father Flannery clears his throat and chuckles. “In all my years of doing this, I’ve never quite seen an entrance like that.”

Lucia shrugs with a smile that could disarm a firing squad as she extends a hand to him. “It’s lovely to meet you finally, Father Flannery,” she says. “Romeo speaks very highly of you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Lucia.”

“Would you mind if I hugged you?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I roll my lips inward to hide my amusement when Father Flannery’s eyes widen.

“W-well,” he stammers, adjusting his collar, “I suppose that would be okay.”

Lucia doesn’t wait for him to second-guess his decision. She leans in and wraps him in a warm, genuine hug, leaving him standing there stiffly with his arms half-raised, until he finally gives in and pats her awkwardly on the back as a reluctant smile tugs at his lips.

“I just want to thank you,” she says as she pulls back, her hand briefly resting on his arm. “For being there for Romeo when he was growing up … and now, of course.”

Her eyes flick to me, soft and sincere. “I’m so grateful he had someone like you looking out for him. Lord knows his wretched mother didn’t.” She says it with that same bright, unbothered tone, but the words land heavy. “And for teaching him to fight,” she adds, grinning, “so he could beat the shit out of all those mean bullies.”

Father Flannery’s eyes flicker nervously to me, his mouth twitching like he’s not sure whether to laugh at what she said or scold her.

He clears his throat again and tugs on his collar, clearly flustered. “Well … yes. The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he mumbles.