A hush fell over the crowd as his voice cut in—perfect and soothing. Rasping and rough. He was a star, and he was meant to be one. Gloria had felt that same charge of charisma the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
I knew your type. Businesswoman looking for a tumble with a guy she didn’t have to commit to.
He was half correct. She hadn’t been looking for a tumble with a client, but when she’d laid eyes on Asher, her rules fell away. The rest of the world fell away.
He sang the line about being connected. Feeling rejected.
A lump formed in her throat.
I didn’t fight for you.
She didn’t fight for him either. He was right about everything he said about her. She’d accused him and made things hard.
I’m not letting you go again.
He was right about the fear that had carved a hole in her heart, too. The plain fact of the matter was that no one had fought for her. Until now. Asher had made one simple request.
Love me.
She’d never had anyone ask her to love them. She’d been told “I love you” before from guys wanting something or thinking that those three words would soften her. When Asher had admitted he loved her, he didn’t ask her to say it back.
He didn’t even say it today during his big speech.
He’d simply asked her to love him.
The thing about it was, she did love him. She’d loved him for a really long time and was only now just admitting it to herself. And she loved Hawk. She loved Asher’s mother, too, and guessed after she got to know his dad better, she’d love him, as well. She’d caved the other night when her girlfriends from the Cove wrapped her in their arms. She loved every last one of them.
“You’re still here.”
Donovan, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, leaned a shoulder against the wall of his mansion. Yeah, that tux hadn’t lasted long. His eyes were on Asher but sifted down to hers in a way that she felt dwarfed. Well, more dwarfed. The man was damn near six-and-a-half feet tall.
“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” she quipped.
A small grunt that could have been a laugh followed the murmured, “You’re braver than me. I’m a runner.”
Gloria turned to face him, gesturing to the gold band on his ring finger. “You didn’t get very far.”
“She didn’t let me.”
“Smart girl.”
They shared a smile. The thing about Donovan was, he and Glo had a lot in common. Raised by not-so-great parents—hers neglected her, and his father beat him—and facing their own demons about loving the people around them. Maybe that’s why she confided in him just now.
“Does it get easier?” she asked.
“Yeah. It does. It’s dropping the armor the first time that hurts like a bitch.” He shrugged his mouth. “Then, after, it gets easier.”
Her gaze tracked back to Asher.
“He’s so gone for you, it’s embarrassing,” Donovan said, and when Gloria turned to him, he laughed. The smile lit his pale eyes and made him look approachable and warm. Beneath that concrete exterior he’d brought back to town, she guessed this side of him had always been there.
“He asked me to love him,” she said, her cheeks going rosy with embarrassment.
“Do you?”
She sliced him a glare. “Of course.”
“Yeah, thought so.” He pushed away from the wall at the same time Sofie appeared on the porch, wearing a simple black dress. “Jeep’s packed, Scampi.”
“Thanks, baby.” Sofie stretched up and kissed him, then gave Gloria a quick hug. “Thanks for lighting the candles.”
“You bet.” And now her eyes were burning.
Sofie hopped onto the porch and was promptly accosted by hugs.
“Whatever you do”—Donovan’s gaze slid back to Gloria—“don’t be so tough you miss out on the good, Sarge.” He smiled at his bride, happiness saturating the air around him. “And trust me, you don’t wanna miss it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go ride off in your coach, Prince Pate.” She was playing off the tender moment, and he saw right through her. But he let her have it, leaning in to kiss her forehead in a rare display of physical affection before literally sweeping Sofie off her feet and into his arms.
“Gotta go,” he announced to the crowd as his wife giggled and hugged his neck.
“Bye, everyone!” Sofie called.
“Where are you going?” Faith asked.
“Not telling,” Donny said, halfway to the Jeep.
He was the perfect yin to Sofie’s yang. Rough where she was sweet, forceful where she was careful. Their deep love for each other radiated in a wide arc around them. They’d been through hell together, and it had only made them stronger. Iron was forged in fire, after all.
“Grab those bags of rice, people,” Asher ordered into the microphone. “Mr. and Mrs. Pate aren’t leaving here without getting pelted!”
The patio emptied, everyone going to one of two baskets filled with organza bags of rice. The white grains fell like confetti, sticking in Sofie’s dark hair, dotting Donovan’s black T-shirt, and pinging off the Jeep’s shiny black hood as he reversed down the cobblestone drive.
And then they were off, leaving the mansion and friends behind.