“Thanks, boss,” she said weakly.
He turned his attention to me, and I felt like a flower blooming in the spring sunshine. “May I borrow my fiancée for a moment?” he asked.
“Sure,” the bride said.
“Bring back more champagne,” Naomi suggested, nodding at the empty bottle in the grass.
I all but skipped to the door.
Outside, it was a stunning spring day. Warm, sunny, blue skies. Birdsong and the babbling of the creek provided the perfect backdrop to the slow country songs the band was playing. Nash and Lina had decided to start their journey together on the grassy expanse of land they would build their house on.
The ceremony and reception would take place under a large white tent next to the creek. It looked as though all of Knockemout had been invited.
Lucian led me away from the tents and pulled me behind an oak tree.
“What’s going—”
I didn’t get any further in my question because Lucian’s mouth found mine in a knee-weakening, breath-stealing kiss.
“Holy crap,” I managed to gasp when he pulled back.
“That was the first order of business. Now on to the next,” he said. “Give me a date.”
“You want to go on a date?” My brain was still scrambled from the kiss.
“I want to set a date. For our wedding.” He glanced around us at the chaotic merriment. “I don’t want to wait. I already wasted enough time. And watching you walk down that aisle today, knowing it’s for someone else, is driving me insane.”
“Christmas Eve.”
He went still and tense. All his attention was on me. His face was all hard angles and planes, but there was an exquisite softness in his expression.
“Christmas Eve,” he repeated.
I nodded. “Last Christmas was rough. Why not make this one for the record books?”
Lucian swallowed hard, then nodded. “Christmas Eve,” he said again, his voice barely a rasp.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and beamed up at him. “I love you, big guy. So stupidly much.”
He crushed me to him, then winced.
“Poor baby. Bullet hole or testicle surgery?” I teased.
“Both.”
Lina didn’t float down the aisle, she marched. Her father nearly had to jog to keep up with those long, purposeful strides. Her gaze never left Nash’s face. And when the happy couple joined hands and stared into each other’s eyes with a blinding joy, there were tears from the entire bridal party. Well, okay. There were tears from Naomi and me. Knox and Lucian were mostly stoic and manly.
Lucian watched me with that hellfire intensity of his throughout the entire ceremony. And when we met in the middle to walk back down the aisle together, he handed me a fresh handkerchief.
We danced, we laughed, and we cried some more, christening with love the very spot that Nash and Lina’s house would be built.
I barely left Lucian’s arms the entire evening. I was safe there. I belonged there. After yesterday’s terrifying chaos, I suddenly felt…free. Like the last of the shadows that had been looming over our group, our town, had finally dissipated. With Anthony Hugo and Wylie Ogden in jail and Judge Atkins in the morgue, we’d finally made it through the dark forest and come out on the other side.
This was the beginning of our happily ever after.
As night fell, the festivities continued. Liza J cut a rug with the handsome biker Wraith. Next to them on the dance floor, Maeve and Kurt swayed side to side, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Nolan and his soon-to-be wife again, Callie, were holding court with my mother, her friends, and several empty bottles of wine. Naomi’s parents were in the middle of a hotly contested game of cornhole with Lina’s parents. Chloe and Waylay were sitting at the abandoned head table, devouring dessert.
Half of Knockemout appeared to be shit-faced on the dance floor. The other half—including the entire police department—was lined up at the bar. Lawlerville had kindly lent Nash some officers so his cops could celebrate with him.
As Lucian and I swayed to a Chris Stapleton song, a grinning Stef and Jeremiah appeared, each holding two bottles of champagne.
“Shall we?” Stef asked, nodding toward the night.
“We’ll get the glasses,” I volunteered.
Lucian and I collected the bride and groom, who were saying good night to Nash’s father. Duke’s sobriety was still a new, fresh thing in the family. We helped ourselves to eight champagne glasses and found our way in the dark to a quiet spot in the meadow where Stef, Jeremiah, Knox, and Naomi were already waiting.
“To the happy couple,” Stef volunteered after Jeremiah filled my glass.
Lina shook her head, brilliantly beautiful as a bride. “To the happy couples,” she amended.
“May we all live happily ever after,” I added.
“Cheers!”
We sat in the grass, drinking champagne and listening to the night symphony of laughter, music, and spring peepers.
Lucian pulled me into his lap and nuzzled my neck.
“Married, married, engaged, engaged,” Knox said, pointing at each couple in our little circle. “Shit sure happens fast round here.”
“Have you two set a date?” I asked Stef and Jeremiah.
“Stef wants at least a year to plan ‘the wedding of the century,’” Jeremiah teased.
“Hey! Naomi and I have been dreaming about our weddings since we were infants,” Stef said defensively.
“Just don’t get married on Christmas Eve,” Lucian said, picking up my hand and kissing my engagement ring. “That date’s taken.”
Lina and Naomi squealed. “You set a date!”
“None of you are invited,” Lucian teased.
“You’re all invited,” I corrected.
Lucian “Lucifer” Rollins was going to be my husband. And I was going to be his wife. We were going to spend the rest of our lives building a family…and driving each other absolutely insane.
Maybe it was the champagne or the happy tears, or maybe it was my dad working a little heavenly miracle, but I’d never seen the stars so bright.
“I love you, Pixie,” Lucian whispered against my hair, his thumb brushing the scar on my wrist.
Epilogue
A Christmas Wedding
Sloane
December 24th dawned crisp and cold with an accommodating amount of snow that had fallen earlier in the week. Perfect for the Christmas effect but without impeding guest travel, according to the wedding coordinator Lucian had hired, what with Naomi and Knox being distracted with fertility specialist appointments.
Wedding coordinator Tiffany had coordinated us to within an inch of our lives.
Our house was full. Even now, laughter rose up from the first floor as the people I loved most in this world got ready to celebrate with us. Lina was probably comparing pregnant bellies with Nolan’s wife, Callie, while everyone else broke into the champagne.
We’d decided to get married at home where Lucian had spared no expense on decking our halls for our first Christmas together. The ceremony would take place inside, and then the reception was in the backyard. Lucian had somehow managed to get the entire yard under a large, heated tent filled with all the glamorous fixings for an event to remember. The aisle was blanketed in cherry blossoms, which were so far out of season I didn’t even want to know how much Lucian had spent arranging it. The man had probably paid scientists to clone our tree.
Tiffany had been in wedding coordinator heaven with an unlimited budget and a groom who wanted the best of everything. She was terrifying in her detail management and time schedules, which was why I was hiding in our bedroom.
I’d sent my half of the bridal party and my mother downstairs to welcome Mary Louise and Allen, who had just arrived, while I took a private moment to freak the fuck out.
I was dressed, made-up, shoes on, ready to go. And starting to panic.
Not seeing Lucian since the—thankfully drama-free—rehearsal dinner had stirred up my nerves.