When Jeffrey made it back to Arundel, there was less than an hour until the wedding. He wasn't yet dressed for it, but he decided to stop by the carriage house first. He was already in a pinch – might as well make it worse.

Jeffrey knocked on the door with his mother's gift in hand. No one answered. Loud chatter buzzed behind the door. He doubted he had been heard, so he knocked again. When it too went unanswered, he let himself in.

Rosalind was fully ready. She had quite the crowd with her – all four of her sisters, Anna, Iantha, and Mrs. Geiger. Though Rosalind's white dress commanded attention, Jeffrey's eyes went right to Skye, where she was sprawled on the couch in her bridesmaid dress. Her hair was even curled. He had never seen it that way before. She looked perfect, not quite like herself, but perfect just the same.

She was the first person to notice him. When she did, he mouthed "wow", looking her up and down. She stuck out her tongue.

"Hi Jeffrey," she said to announce his presence.

Everyone else turned his way at once, so he shifted his attention to Rosalind, where it was supposed to be. She stood in front of a mirror, her hair straight and twisted into an elegant updo. Simple makeup highlighted her features. She had always been beautiful, but today she was particularly bright, radiating happiness that overpowered the room.

"Rosy," he said with a big smile. "You're glowing."

"I know," she said, like she couldn't quite believe it. "You're not here to deliver some big news that will make me reschedule again, are you?" She was kidding, and she laughed. "I'll lose my head if you are."

"Nope. No rescheduling," said Jeffrey. "But I do have a delivery for you. Try not to keel over." He held out the silver shopping bag. "From my mom."

There was a chorus of "what?" from almost everyone, even Iantha. Jeffrey chuckled as Rosalind accepted the bag.

"I hope she knows she didn't have to," Rosalind said fretfully. "I never expected—" She didn't finish, merely broke off with a laugh. She pulled a box from the bag and freed it from its ribbons. "My goodness," she said softly, touching the filmy fabric inside. "She bought me a veil!"

Skye snorted loudly.

Rosalind eyed the folded accessory, both perturbed and a little in awe. "What is this for?"

"I think it's for your wedding, dear," Mrs. Geiger joked.

Rosalind blinked with a bewildered shake of her head. "I only meant— oh, I don't know." She set the box on a nearby chair. "I'm surprised."

"And still on your feet. I'm proud of you," Jeffrey teased. "She also asked me to tell you that she hopes your luck is better than hers was."

"Ha! Henry VIII had better luck than she did," said Skye – an automatic jest that she quickly appeared to regret. She mumbled, "Not that I'm one to talk."

Jeffrey caught her eye, gave her a smile. Managing a spectacular level of nonchalance, he said, "There's always next time."

Skye gave no reply, except for a small, delayed shrug. She broke their eye contact, her face tinted with embarrassment. No one noticed but Jeffrey, who had to remind himself not to laugh.

He shouldn't say things like that out loud. It was much too soon, but the comment had slipped out before he could think twice about it. Skye didn't seem to mind. She carefully avoided his gaze, looking instead at the opposite wall, but a gentle smile played at her lips. That kind of smile gave Jeffrey a buzz, like a sweet and deceptively strong cocktail.

Rosalind didn't pick up on their interaction. She only responded to her sister's joke. "Oh stop, Skye. I'm sure that's not true."

"It is, in fact," said Anna. "Henry VIII was married six times, but he only had five ex-wives."

"Can't attribute that to his luck, though," said Batty. "If you behead your wives, that probably makes you the problem."

"I'm not sure Mrs. Tifton's divorces can be attributed to bad luck either," said Jane. "After all, she is the common denominator."

"But not the only problem," said Jeffrey. Right now, he didn't love the jokes made at her expense. He wondered what kind of person it made him to listen to them. After the conversation they had just had, probably not a great one. He felt it necessary to defend her at least a little. "Not even the biggest problem."

"Of course not," Jane agreed. "But be that as it may, she is the reigning champion of divorce."

"Actually," said Anna. "She has some catching up to do if she wants her title back. My father just left wife number eight."

"Let's not talk about divorce," said Rosalind. "I'm in my wedding dress."

"You won't get divorced," said Skye.

"I still don't want to hear about it." Rosalind tossed her skirt to draw attention to her gown. "I make the rules. I'm the bride."

No one dared argue with her, thus all talk of divorce met its end. Lydia pulled the veil from its box. Curious, she held it up. It was longer than she was tall; much of the sheer material bunched on the floor at her feet. The edges were decorated with intricate lace, the tulle stitched with pale pink roses – roses which also adorned the veil's ivory headpiece.

Jeffrey raised his eyebrows. It was an impressive bit of finery. His mother only ever selected the best, evidently even when shopping for those of whom she was not the most fond.

Iantha gasped. "Oh! It's lovely."

"Try it on, at least," said Anna.

Rosalind hesitated, tempted but unsure. She stared at the veil hanging from Lydia's hands. "Should I?"

Mrs. Geiger laughed. "If you would like my boy to faint."

Rosalind flushed. "Maybe. Lydia—" She held her hand out for the veil.

"Be careful," said Jane. "It could be poisoned."

Rosalind rolled her eyes and snatched it from Lydia. She returned to the mirror and gingerly set the veil atop her head. To Jeffrey, the effect was immediate, like a spotlight shining down on her with a musical crescendo in the background. It nearly made him emotional.

"Rosalind," Iantha said, and nothing else, because that was plenty.

"Wear it," Anna commanded. "Wear it, Rosy. You must."

Rosalind was transfixed by her reflection. She adjusted the headpiece and draped the veil over her shoulders. She fingered the delicate material, her eyes wide.

Then, the spell was broken. She shook her head and lifted the veil from her hair. "I can't. It might be bad luck."

"I thought we decided that luck wasn't a contributing factor," said Jeffrey.

She didn't seem sure. "I can't— can I?"

"No," said Skye.

"Wear it," Anna wholeheartedly disagreed. "I'm so serious. How could you not?"

Rosalind studied herself again, this time with the veil draped over her arm, trying to determine if she looked just as good without it as she did with it on.

"If my opinion matters," Jeffrey offered. "I think you looked beautiful in it."

"Thank you," Rosalind murmured. She finally turned from the mirror to place the veil over a chair.

Jeffrey expected that she wouldn't, but he hoped Rosalind would decide to wear it. His mom had taken time out of her schedule to find Rosalind a gift, and it would disappoint him if it ultimately went unappreciated. He didn't tell Rosalind that – it was her choice what she wore down the aisle – but privately, he willed her to put the veil on for the ceremony.

That ceremony he still needed to get dressed for, so he slipped one last smile at Skye and left the group. He was very short on time, but luckily, he'd set his outfit out that morning – dark slacks, a short sleeved dress shirt, no tie (the wedding was a casual affair). He opted out of the blazer he'd considered, since it was a hot afternoon, and he didn't think blazers belonged in the summertime. He stopped in his bathroom for a quick glance in the mirror, briefly messing with his hair. He resisted the urge to overdo it for Skye's benefit. He looked nice enough. If she cared to notice, she would.

Most of the guests were already in their seats by the time Jeffrey reached the Greek pavilion. He spotted Tommy aways off to the side, standing with Nick and their father. He looked a little green. Jeffrey caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up. Tommy grinned back appreciatively.

Jeffrey took his seat beside Alec and prepared his clarinet. As the sole sources of the ceremony's music, they were given special chairs at the front of the aisle, left of where Rosalind and Tommy would soon stand together.

"So—" Alec said as Jeffrey secured the mouthpiece to the barrel of his clarinet. "How was it with your mom?"

Jeffrey lay the built instrument across his lap and leaned back in his chair. "Good. Really good. Great, actually."

He'd cut it to the minute. Mr. and Mrs. Geiger had just seated themselves in the front bench. In a moment, Iantha would enter, and the ceremony would be underway.

"What did I tell you?" said Alec, looking rather pleased with himself.

"I did throw a tiny fit first," Jeffrey admitted. "But after that, she said some stuff that surprised me. It all worked out."

"What did I tell you?" Alec repeated, his smile all the more smug.

Jeffrey laughed. "You were right."

"I'm glad."

As was Jeffrey, but he'd say nothing more about it. Iantha had begun her walk down the aisle. Silence fell over the audience as the mother of the bride took her place in the front row.

The start of the ceremony brought on sudden nerves for Jeffrey, delightful and anticipatory nerves he often felt at weddings. He was excited for Rosalind – for her and Tommy both – and through all the topsy-turvy chaos of his past couple of days, he had largely forgotten to be. Now, that excitement revived and swelled. He had expected their wedding to be marred by Skye's, overshadowed by his jealous, fractured heart. Instead, he was whole. His heart, having always belonged to Skye, had been healed in her hands. There was only one bride today, and he didn't have to pretend to be delighted for Rosalind. He emphatically was.

The officiant (one of Tommy's fraternity brothers from college) entered next, from the side, and stood inside the Greek pavilion. Then came Tommy, less green now. He waited at the steps and straightened the jacket of his grey suit. When Nick joined him, he whispered something at Tommy that made him laugh – and wasn't that just what brothers and best men were for? Gifting grooms with anxiety breaks, if only for a short while.

Tommy had four groomsmen, an unplanned but equal number to Rosalind's bridesmaids. They lined up diagonally beside Nick. Anna, maid of honor, marched down the aisle alone, and after her came four year old Emma Geiger, dressed in a little blue dress. She shyly tossed flowers from a wicker basket. At her side was Feldspar, the proud ring bearer. He was much less nervous than Emma, and he pranced through the aisle as if it had been built just for him. Never without his jaws on some prize or another, he had been given a long and de-thorned rose. He held it high in the air, displayed for his audience. The rings hung from a ribbon tied around his neck.

When flower girl and ring bearer reached the end of the aisle, Tommy crouched to greet his stage shy niece. Her eyes were fixed on her target (not Tommy, but her dad), thus she didn't notice. With her job blessedly completed, she dropped the basket to the floor and ran straight past Tommy. She hugged onto Nick's legs, where she would be safest.

Tommy slapped his hand to his heart. "Ouch."

Laughter rippled through the rows of benches. Nick rubbed Emma's hair. Pointing his finger, he encouraged her to say hello to Tommy. She hurried over and wrapped her little arms around his neck, only briefly, before she escaped the spotlight and joined her mother in the crowd. Tommy stood up, shaking his head. He was rebuffed.

The carriage house door opened, and the guests all twisted in their chairs to look. Rosalind and her sisters filed out in a straight line. At the rose arbor, they took their places for the procession. Some adjustments had been made to this formation after the double wedding had become single. Batty and Lydia were out front, Skye and Jane in the middle. Rosalind could just be glimpsed behind the four of them. At the sight of her, Jeffrey leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees.

"I'll be," he mumbled. A smile slowly grew over his face until it became a complete grin.

She had put it on. Rosalind was wearing his mother's veil.

Each bridesmaid dress was an identical shade of silver, with unique pale-colored sashes tied in a precise knot at the hip. Skye's sash was aquamarine, which Jeffrey thought was a fitting blend of the blue of her eyes and green, her favorite color.

Lydia signaled to him – a single, solemn nod. They were ready. Jeffrey and Alec played "Dance Me to the End of Love", and Lydia's painstakingly planned dance to the aisle began.

Something about music adds a bit of reality to the extraordinary. If anyone had been unsure if this wedding was, in fact, finally upon them, the first few notes out of Jeffrey's clarinet provided the proof. This day had been a long time coming, and here it was – indisputable.

Tommy hopped up on his toes to expel his jitters, and Jeffrey smiled behind his clarinet.

The dance was a simple one, a pattern of four steps, followed by a tight spin. Jeffrey had laughed at the rehearsal, and he could have laughed again, but he knew better. He played on, but his smile never fell from his lips. Batty was the only dancer to remain on beat. Even Lydia was just slightly off rhythm, though Jeffrey would never, ever tell her so. Jane and Rosalind were close, but Skye – Skye was out of her element. Every spin was a beat late, her feet stumbled through the practiced steps. Jeffrey loved it; he didn't know why. He couldn't look away from her, trying her very best and laughing at her own struggle. She was flawless, even when she was out of step.

When they reached the back row of benches, the dance was over. Lydia, Batty, Jane, and Skye walked through the guests, two-by-two, with eclectic bouquets clasped in the hand. Jeffrey and Alec let their song fade to an end as the sisters lined up opposite the groomsmen.

Rosalind alone remained at the end of the aisle. She stared at Tommy, and he stared back. So caught up was she in all of this staring that she didn't see her father approach her and hold out his arm. He nudged her, and she jumped. Jeffrey chuckled. All of the guests did. Rosalind sheepishly slid her hand through Mr. Penderwick's arm.

Alec leaned toward Jeffrey, and he nodded at Tommy. "Think he'll cry?"

"Yep." Jeffrey had never once seen him do so, but he was quite certain of that. He could tell. Tommy was close to it already.

Alec set his saxophone down. It had been decided that Jeffrey would take this next part on alone. He returned his clarinet to his lips for "Here Comes the Bride", and Rosalind began her slow journey down the aisle.

Tommy did cry. The first of those famous notes was all it took. He brushed his eye with his knuckle, but he never looked away from Rosalind. Her smile widened with every step, her gaze locked straight ahead, where her futured stood personified.

Mr. Penderwick kissed Rosalind's face and sat in the empty chair beside Iantha, where he too wiped a tear away.

Tommy held his hand out to Rosalind, and she set hers in his open palm.

"Hi," she said, exhaling a shaky, happy laugh.

He smiled at her and kissed her knuckles. "Hi." He brushed his fingers down the piece of the veil that hung off her shoulder. "You look—"

"Do you like it?"

"Of course I like it. You're gorgeous – I can't breathe." He even sounded like that was true.

"Wait until I tell you where it's from."

Tommy laughed and scrunched his brows, not sure what to make of that strange comment. Rosalind shook her head to dismiss it. That didn't matter right now.

They took the pavilion's short steps together. Rosalind, a bundle of trembling excitement, missed the last stair with her heel. She toppled back precariously. Tommy's arm shot behind her back, and he pulled her safely into him.

"Gotcha," he said, kissing the crown of her head.

Rosalind bit her lip with an embarrassed smile. She kissed him gratefully, and they stood in their spot beneath the Greek pavilion's roof.

The officiant – Jeffrey believed his name was Isaiah – raised his arm toward Rosalind and Tommy. "How do you like that demonstration, folks?"

Tommy grinned, and Rosalind covered her face with her hands as guests cheered and whooped.

Isaiah (probably) waited for it to get quiet again before he said, "That's why we're here, isn't it? To give these two a chance to saddle us with more reasons to envy them. To stand witness to the single greatest love story to survive Sigma Pi's 2013 pledge class."

Tommy snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose, undoubtedly remembering a couple unruly times spent with that very pledge class. Rosalind rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you all think that this wedding is about them, and I'm sorry to tell you, but you're wrong. It's about us," said Isaiah. "Tommy and Rosalind have supported, protected, and loved each other right from the start. They always will, and they don't need a damn legal ceremony to prove that to themselves. They showed up today to prove it to all of us, and of course, to prove it to the Massachusetts government."

Having been present for many weddings that legally bound together a doomed couple, Jeffrey wondered if the Massachusetts government was tired of being lied to. He smiled to himself. Perhaps today would restore its faith in the institution of marriage.

"I don't think there is a couple out there as well-matched as this one. In the time I've been around, I've seen them fight for each other, and fight each other."

That got a laugh out of everyone, most of whom could say the same. Jeffrey could.

"I've seen them have some mature arguments, and I've seen them absolutely throw hands over a fantasy football draft."

Rosalind and Tommy shared a grin, Rosalind's shamelessly smug. She had won the previous year's war over Indianapolis running back Jonathan Taylor, and she had followed up that victory by ending the fantasy season on top, besting Tommy for the very first time. She would forever be proud of that achievement.

"But it doesn't matter what issues they face – they always come out of them stronger than they were before. Everything they do solidifies their place together, and today, they'll solidify it for the record books when they turn 'together' into a forever type of deal. So—" Isaiah snapped finger guns at both of them. "Let's make it official, shall we?"

During the rehearsal, it was Tommy who had been identified as the first to give his vows. He was about to, but Rosalind jumped in before he could.

"Wait— sorry. I'll go first," she said. She laughed nervously. "I don't think I'll make it through mine very well if I don't."

"Go for it," said Tommy.

"Hell, Rosalind. Don't start off with 'wait sorry'. Not this weekend," said Isaiah.

Several guests chuckled, but somewhat uncomfortably. Jeffrey shifted in his seat and sent a glance Skye's way. He knew Isaiah had meant it as a harmless joke, but he thought it was in poor taste. He was, of course, the most pleased about the death of Skye's engagement, but it wasn't funny, and it was much too recent to joke about. She met his eye and returned his smile. She looked alright. Jeffrey still wished the comment hadn't been made.

Rosalind was wise enough to pretend she hadn't heard. She smiled at Tommy, then laughed and shook out her hands. "I know I'm the one who suggested we come up with these on the spot, but I think I underestimated how stressful it would be."

Tommy stepped closer to whisper in her ear. She pushed him in the shoulder and whispered something back.

She stood in silent thought, but the wait was comfortable – a time for everyone to take in the tenderness and devotion with which they regarded each other.

"I wish fifth grade Rosalind could see me standing here with you," she began. Her voice had a slight tremor, a slightly high pitch. "I don't think she'd mind, but—" Rosalind laughed. "I know she didn't see this coming." She paused there, processing. "She should have. I've told you a lot that I'm the best thing that has ever happened to you – and I promise I'll continue to be that."

Tommy laughed, as did the many onlookers.

"But it is so much more important that you're the best thing that has ever happened to me," said Rosalind, the sentence punctuated by the crack of her voice. "Oh my god, already," she complained, touching the side of her finger beneath her eye. "I think sometimes I don't really remember how blessed I am to know you and to be with you, because you have been a constant in my life from the very beginning." She made a face. "That sounds bad— I'm trying to say I've always been able to count on you. I can't imagine life without you there to lean on and rant to and share everything with. The day that we met is too far back to be a memory, but from that point on – whenever it was – every moment, good and bad, was a moment you were there for. All my big choices, you helped me make, and you were— you were perfect." Rosalind surrendered to tears now; they made their mark on her every word. "This one, too – my choice to marry you – you led me here too, just by being yourself. It's the easiest choice I've ever made. I wouldn't— I couldn't have it any other way. You are the foundation I built my life on. I didn't know I was doing that when we were little, and if I had known, I wouldn't have admitted it." She released another teary laugh and did what she could to save her eye makeup. "But I am proudly admitting it now: you're what makes me stable. I couldn't—" She took a deep breath before she finished. "Hold myself up without you supporting me."

Tommy lifted his hand to her face to brush away her tears for her.

"So I promise to lift you up like you have always done for me. I promise to never take you for granted, because you are my biggest gift. I'm your number one fan, so I promise to cheer you on with everything that I am, and to remind you every day that I am honored to be yours. You don't just have my heart, Tommy. You are my heart. I love my life because you're in it."

"Rosy…" Tommy was a little red, and crying with her now. Many people were. Jeffrey was.

"I love you," she just managed to say. She squeaked "God, I'm such a mess" and pressed her palm against her mouth while she'd regained a bit of composure.

Tommy smiled at her until she'd dried her face and stood ready to listen to him.

"Fifth grade Rosalind might be surprised we're here, but fifth grade Tommy had an impressive crush on you, so he's not."

Rosalind's laugh radiated off her face. The sun was high in the cloudless blue sky, but the day's true light came from the look in her eyes.

That first part Tommy had said without any difficulty. From then on, his voice progressively turned uneven. "I wish you could see yourself how I see you, because if you could, you wouldn't have any doubts about yourself or your capabilities. You can do anything, Rosalind – be anything you want. I am completely in awe of you. You've always been the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. I was overwhelmed when you first chose to be with me, and I am overwhelmed that you're still choosing me, and you've allowed me to choose you. That's my greatest accomplishment: being somebody you think is worthy of you."

Jeffrey almost felt out of place. This exchange was so personal – and it was meant to be so – but with it came the illusion of spying on something he wasn't supposed to overhear.

There had been two other Arundel weddings during his lifetime, both his mother's, and both the start of a marriage that would take a turn for the worst and fail. He did like Arundel, and he always enjoyed visiting, but the home was full of ghosts – ghosts of arguments and tears and divorce papers. It had been, he decided. It wasn't anymore. One by one, those ghosts fled. Rosalind and Tommy took over the estate; they claimed it as theirs. None of the soured love and bitter resentment that had so long possessed the grounds could stand against them. It all surrendered and evaporated, and Jeffrey felt it go. He ran his hand down his face, smiling into his palm. Six miserable relationships were nothing next to the relationship reinforced here right now. There was no room for their memory. This was Arundel's only legacy.

Tommy took Rosalind's hand. "The person I am today, I am because of you. I can't guess where I would be, or who I would be if we'd done the life thing on our own, but I do know I would be worse off. I know that without you now, half of me would be gone. That space is yours to fill – I'd never get it back. I am whole with you, and only with you."

Rosalind had to turn away, just for a second, and just because to hold eye contact any longer would be to fall apart completely. But, she was laughing. Laughing because she was crying – the happiest Jeffrey had ever seen her. Perhaps the happiest he had seen anyone.

"Why can you still do this to me?" Rosalind said, turning back to Tommy, who wasn't yet finished. "It's not fair."

"I'm going to carry on doing it, I promise," he said. "Just like I promise I'll make you laugh, and I'll admit when you're right, and I might even rinse my plate before I put it in the dishwasher."

Already he was making good on his promise to get her to laugh.

"I'll love you every day more than the one before. Whatever happens in the future, I'll be someone you can turn to. I'm always on your side, so I'll defend you against the world if I have to. I'll listen to you anytime you need – and I'll do my best to only give you solutions to your problems when you want them."

Rosalind laughed again, and she chewed on her lip.

"I promise to keep dating you, even when we're old and tired and we don't feel like it. You deserve that. You deserve somebody who knows how capable and gracious and beautiful you are. I promise to be that somebody, and to be the best person I know how to be for you." Tommy smiled and threw in, "Penderwick Family Honor."

Right away, Rosalind hugged him (it was necessary after such a speech). When she separated herself, she accused, "You wrote that ahead of time."

"I've been writing it for years, Rosy."

What followed was a touching trade of rings and I Dos. Tommy's hand shook badly enough that he dropped Rosalind's ring, making everyone laugh – no one more than he and Rosalind. In turn, she once again was too overwhelmed to remember her part. Isaiah had to prompt her, and she emerged from her Tommy-induced trance saying, "Oh— I do. Obviously, I do." More laughter ensued. Jeffrey was pleased to see that Skye laughed along with everyone else. He'd worried that the ceremony would be difficult for her to watch. A day after the cancellation of her own wedding wasn't long to recover, but she seemed happy. Genuinely. It brought Jeffrey peace. That's what all of this was supposed to be: a celebration of happiness.

He turned his attention back to the bride and groom. That was where it belonged, he did know that. His mind was still partly on Skye. It was impossible for it not to be.

Isaiah threw Rosalind a cheeky smile. "Unlike the bride, I remember my line."

"Be quiet," she said, but she wasn't embarrassed.

"Can't. I have the power," he said. "So, by that power given to me by the state of Massachusetts, I pronounce you stuck with each other for good, or as some people call it, married. Go ahead and—"

"Kiss the groom," said Rosalind, and that was just what she did. Tommy wrapped his arms around her legs and lifted her clean off her feet.

"Mr. and Mrs. Geiger, ladies and gents!" Isaiah announced.

At those words, Rosalind stopped kissing Tommy to instead cry into his neck. Jeffrey and every other guest stood to clap and holler their support. Tommy gently set Rosalind back down, and they raised their clasped hands into the air as their friends and family proudly cheered them on.

The noise didn't fade until Rosalind and Tommy had run off for a bit of time alone before the start of the reception. Guests began leaving their seats and spilling into the gardens. Iantha and Mrs. Geiger headed into the house to set up for dinner. The wedding party cleared away from the Greek pavilion, and Jeffrey met Skye at the base of its stairs.

"Here." She thrust her bouquet into his hands to be rid of it. "For you."

"You shouldn't have," said Jeffrey, sniffing the flowers and making her laugh. He inspected the funky bouquet – a hodgepodge of various plants pulled from Cagney's garden. "This has an exceptional personality."

"Thank you very much, I made it myself," said Skye.

"You could be a florist."

"The public isn't ready for my bouquets yet."

Jeffrey laughed and tucked the flowers under his arm. He realized she was standing almost exactly where she would have stood with Dušek. He thought she was, but in case she wasn't, he asked, "You doing alright?"

"Mm hmm." She nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Skye gave him a shove and a smile. "Yes."

"Good."

She looked over her shoulder at the Greek pavilion. "It made me feel better. I know that's probably weird, but it did."

Jeffrey didn't think that was weird at all. He was just happy it was true.

"I couldn't have done it – what they just did." Skye sighed, but it wasn't discontented. More decided. "I was never ready for that."

"That's okay," he promised.

Skye scoffed, but good naturedly. "You, my friend, are far too biased to have an opinion."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't gaslight me, Tifton."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Skye took a deep breath. "I'm going to be really, really honest with you, okay?"

"Okay."

"I don't know how they can look each other in the eye after saying that stuff. I couldn't, but I hope one day it's something I can do, and I think—" She tried for a smile, and it was self-conscious. She pushed her hair back from her face. "I think the odds of that are pretty good."

The funny thing was that she didn't realize she already could. Sure, she hadn't shared any wedding vows, but just that morning she had confessed a whole load of affection and attachment to him. She had looked right at him as she'd done it, and she was looking him in the eye now. She wasn't as afraid of it as she thought she was. She just hadn't figured that out yet.

She would in her own time; she didn't need him to point it out for her. He only said, "Yeah?"

Skye shrugged. "We'll see."

Jeffrey smiled. "I guess we will."

She started to walk off, toward the house. Jeffrey turned around to go with her, and he promptly noticed Batty. She was yards away, out of earshot, watching them with her arms crossed. He made unintentional eye contact with her, and she shook her head at him. You idiot, she probably meant.

He could imagine what Batty must be thinking – he had latched himself onto Skye in her new state of singleness, he'd concocted some foolhardy plan to win her over, he was setting himself up for a familiar rejection. It did look like that. In the past day, Batty had seen Jeffrey speaking with Skye far more than he had when she was a bride-to-be. She must be so disappointed in him. He would be disappointed in himself, if things were as Batty believed them to be.

Jeffrey didn't know what he would have done if Skye hadn't kissed him after leaving Dušek, if her engagement had ended for some reason he was no part of. He liked to think he wouldn't have been dopey enough to pin all his hopes on Skye again, but maybe he would have. Probably. He had long proven he didn't have much sense where she was concerned.

It didn't matter. Not one bit. He wasn't an idiot, no victim of devil-may-care optimism. He'd never had the chance to pin his hopes on anything, because there was nothing to hope for. He had the real thing.

All he could think (most affectionately) was: bite me, Batty.

It was like the words had been spelled out in the air over his head. Batty rolled her eyes at him, then trudged off and beat them to the front porch.

Inside, the ballroom was full of tables and chairs. White lights were strung everywhere, and a slideshow of Rosalind and Tommy over the years was projected on the wall, set to the tune of Bryan Adams' "Please Forgive Me" – a cleverly misnomered anthem of strong and unending love.

The Penderwick sisters (save for Rosalind) were to sit together at a table opposite the bride and groom's. Skye stole a chair from the next table over and added it to hers.

"Sit with me," she whispered in Jeffrey's ear.

Not about to complain, he sat between her and Batty.

Batty coughed into her fist. It was innocent enough, but it drew Jeffrey's attention. She held his eye a beat too long, pursed her lips, then grabbed the water pitcher from the center of the table and poured herself a glass. She didn't say anything to him, since she couldn't, but he sensed her judgment.

It's not what you think, he thought at her. He smirked. Later, the look on her face would be glorious.

Jane gushed about Rosalind and Tommy's vows. Skye listened, resting one arm on the table and dropping the other into her lap. It soon made its way to Jeffrey's leg, creeping up his thigh.

"She said they made them up right there, didn't she?" said Skye, as if nothing was happening under the table.

"Yes!" Jane exclaimed. "They're a dream."

"They're show offs," said Skye.

She squeezed his cock. For crying out loud. Jeffrey started forward in his chair and folded his arms on the table top. He did not look at her. He was afraid to even breathe. They'd get caught red-handed if she kept up those games. His poker face left much to be desired.

Ben stopped on his way past their table, taking note of Jeffrey amongst his sisters. Skye mercifully let go of him, and Jeffrey allowed himself to relax. He looked sideways at Skye. She propped her hand against her mouth to hide a smile. He kicked her foot. She kicked his back.

"I thought this was the bridesmaids' table," said Ben.

"It is." Skye untied the sash from her waist and hung it around Jeffrey's neck. "See?"

Jeffrey still had her bouquet with him, so he waved it at Ben to further prove his bridesmaid status.

"Where's mine?" said Ben, not one to be excluded.

"Right here," said Jane. She took her bouquet from her lap and passed it to him. She would have provided him with her sash, had he not stopped her.

"I want Lydia's," he said, throwing her a wink. "It matches my hair."

"No!" Lydia squeezed her arms protectively around her waist. She was deeply fond of her copper sash. Jeffrey assumed Ben knew that.

Jane tossed hers at Ben to prevent any arguing from breaking out. He happily fashioned it into a necktie.

"You look lovely," said Jane. "Purple suits you."

"Thank you." Ben pulled up a chair and joined their table.

Rosalind and Tommy were the last to make it into the ballroom, greeted by a loud applause. They took their seats in front of everyone, and Iantha insisted she would serve them their dinner. Trays had been laid out on a long table against the back wall. Once they had been given plates, the guests clamored to serve themselves, buffet style.

The room was full of mirth and music. Conversation flowed from every table, where people stole glances at Tommy eating stuffed mushrooms out of Rosalind's hand, at her hugging onto his arm and whispering in his ear. They exuded joy that spread to every person who had come to celebrate them.

After people started to settle in with second servings, Anna stood up at the table she shared with both sets of parents, Nick, and Nick's wife. She tapped the microphone she had in hand, and the chatter quieted, then silenced.

"Okie dokie. Thanks for coming everybody— whoa." The microphone had squealed. Anna lowered it a few inches. She laughed at herself. "Apologies to your ears. That's not what I meant to do." She turned where she stood to face the sea of tables behind her. "For the people who don't know me, my name is Anna. I've been friends with Rosalind since first grade, which means I've also been friends with Tommy for about that long – not by choice, but I've learned to live with it." Several people chuckled, including Tommy, so Anna waited until they had stopped before she spoke again. "There is so much I could say about them. It was hard to decide what, so I thought I'd do the easy thing and talk about myself. I am a child of divorce. My parents separated when I was very young, so I don't have many memories of the three of us under one roof. The ones that I do have, I'd rather forget. My mother hasn't remarried, and my father—" Anna laughed. "My father is processing his eighth divorce right now – and I promise I'm not trauma dumping on you all, it just goes without saying that I didn't have the best relationship role models as a kid. My parents never showed me what a healthy, committed relationship looks like. They showed me what garbage relationships look like, and it would be very easy for me to think that is just what relationships are: garbage. Fortunately for me, I can tell you honestly I know that's not true. My parents might be shit romantics, but Rosalind and Tommy aren't. I've always had them to look up to." Anna turned to speak to them. "I want to thank both of you for that. You should know—" Her voice quavered. She stopped to roll her eyes at that. "I told myself I wouldn't cry, but forget it. I'm crying." She wiped her eyes with her wrist and smiled. "You should know you are the reason I still believe in love."

Rosalind folded her hands under her chin, touched to tears herself.

"No pressure," Anna sniffed, earning herself a widespread laugh. "People often talk about relationships in terms of luck – he's a lucky guy, she's a lucky girl – and for some, that might be true. It's not in this case. Luck has nothing to do with it. Rosalind and Tommy earn each other every day. They've built themselves, stone by damn stone, into the unmatched and unbreakable powerhouse they are today. I think I can speak for everyone here when I say they are the couple we all hope to be."

That sentence inspired a round of clapping. Rosalind smiled a shy smile, and Tommy's ears turned red. This day was theirs, but so much high praise was more than they had asked for, and it was more than they'd been prepared to receive. Jeffrey thought that amusing. They knew their relationship was special. They should have expected others to know that too.

Anna was almost done, but she had a bit more praise to dole out. "Rosalind, I would tell you that I am happy you've found your home, but the truth is, you never had to look for it. You were already there."

Rosalind brushed at her eye, so Tommy took her hand and kissed it. She scratched his jaw before setting her hand to the table.

"Today was inevitable, and it is well-deserved. You've shown me what love is at its best, and now you'll show me what marriage is at its best. It's a privilege to learn from you." Anna raised her wine glass in a toast. "So here's to that, and here's to you. I will forever love you both."

The end of her speech was met with applause, and Rosalind stood up to thank her with an embrace.

"Hold the hug – I'm not done yet," said Anna. Rosalind sat back down. Anna took a sheet of paper from where she'd had it tucked under her plate. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't embarrass the bride a little, would I?"

"Oh no," Rosalind groaned, though she wore a big smile.

"Rosy and I were diligent pen pals in our youth," Anna explained to her audience. "There are a lot of letters I could read from today, but the one I have in my hand is a letter I saved specifically for this moment – my speech at Rosalind's wedding." She unfolded the letter and said, "It's from August of 2006."

Jeffrey raised his eyebrows. August of 2006 was when the Penderwicks had taken their vacation at Arundel Cottage.

"I won't read this whole thing – it's lengthy," said Anna. "Rosalind was here when she wrote it, and to preface, not everything that happened on that trip was magical and perfect."

Jeffrey laughed, and Skye punched him on the arm.

"With that said, let me read you a story." Anna cleared her throat. "Skye was in a crummy mood yesterday. I guess she lost her temper at Mrs. Tifton."

Jeffrey sat up straighter in his chair. That day in the music room rushed back to him, the words his mother and Skye had said played in his mind like an audio recording. It hadn't been his favorite day, thus he remembered it better than the rest.

So did Skye. She turned her head his way, a smirk on her face.

"Uh oh," Jeffrey whispered. If he remembered correctly, and he knew he did, his mother had said something about Rosalind. Rosalind and someone else – someone else who was sitting two tables away with his wife and ten year old.

"Rosy's going to kill her," Skye snickered.

Anna read, "I probably should have scolded her. We don't want Jeffrey's mother to hate us forever—"

"Whoops," Skye called out. Many people laughed, though not all knew of Mrs. Tifton.

"But when I heard what she said—" Anna looked up from the paper. "Mrs. Tifton said a lot of things, most unimportant. I'll skip to the good part."

It was then that Rosalind's memory served her. "Wait. Anna—"

Anna ignored her. "She said that I chase after Cagney like—"

"ANNA!" Rosalind shrieked and slapped her hands over her face.

"Like a lovesick puppy, and when—" Anna stopped to laugh, because Rosalind had slid out of her chair and was now crawling under the table.

Tommy dragged Rosalind out from it, his laughter joining that which rang around the room. Rosalind's was enough to bring her to tears. She cast a reluctant but curious look at Cagney, who was beyond startled to have had his name dropped in such a fashion. He responded with a flirty wink, and Rosalind hid her face in Tommy's neck. Her cheeks were aflame with mortification, and her shoulders shook with hilarity that was nowhere near fading.

"In my defense, Rosy, when I kept this letter, I did not think Cagney would actually attend your wedding," Anna joked. "This plan was simply too old to change."

Rosalind shook her head at her and cleared away the tears that had rolled down her face.

"Carrying on!" Anna announced with a self-satisfied grin. She returned to the letter, starting again. "She said that I chase after Cagney like a lovesick puppy, and when a man lets me catch him one day, that will be the end of my innocence." Anna raised her glass of wine once more. "Congratulations and condolences, Tommy Geiger. Looks like that man is you."

Tommy elbowed Rosalind in the ribs. "End of her innocence, that's for sure."

"Thomas!" His mother scolded.

He laughed. "And the end of mine."

Rosalind pulled him into a kiss that proved all innocence was indeed lost. People clapped for them, and they clapped for Anna, who took her seat – only to get back on her feet when Rosalind hurried over to hug her.

Rosalind shortly returned to her table, but not to her chair. Tommy caught her by the waist and she tumbled into his lap. There she would stay until dinner was over.

Anna passed the microphone to Nick, next in line to speak.

"I don't really have a speech. It's more of a comment," he said as he stood up. "Tommy got his first girlfriend around seventh or eighth grade, and she was annoying, so I said— well, do you remember what I said about it?"

He'd aimed that question at Tommy, who answered, "Something like, 'what's the point? You'll marry Rosalind one day anyway'."

Nick pointed at him with a confirming snap of his fingers. "You didn't like me much for that, but—" He waved at the reception behind him. "Here we are. I could congratulate you, but instead, I think I'll congratulate myself. I am always right."

Laura Geiger smacked her husband upside the head when he sat back in his chair. Nick grinned and drank from a glass of champagne. "And I'm proud of you," he called at Tommy, who flipped him an amiable middle finger.

Soon after that came the cutting of the cake. Ben left the table to fulfill his duty as wedding photographer, immortalizing the moment when Rosalind pushed cake in Tommy's face and promptly licked it away.

Neither Jane nor Lydia returned to the table with their plates. Lydia joined Alice, and Jane flit from table to table to chat up different guests.

When dessert finished, the reception would move back outside for live music. Alec and Turron had already left with Enam, probably to give him a pep talk about the performance. He'd never played in front of so many people, and he was more nervous about it than he let on. After all, as the titular member of Enam and the E Sharp Band, he shouldered a great responsibility to impress.

Batty and Jeffrey were the only band members still in the ballroom. Batty finished her cake first, and she stayed in her seat until Jeffrey too was done.

Once he had taken his final bite, Batty pushed back her chair. On her feet, she pulled Skye's sash from his shoulders and snapped it at his face. "You're with me, homewrecker."

Jeffrey hadn't yet swallowed that last bite of cake. He did now, sooner than he would have. He coughed. "What?"

Batty smirked and kicked his ankle with her toe. "I said what I said."

Jeffrey stared up at her, and he started to laugh. So he had been wrong. She knew. Naturally. What had she been judging him for, then? Lying? Probably lying.

Skye's fork had frozen halfway to her mouth. She tossed it to her plate. "Jeffrey!"

"Oh no – I didn't spill." He pointed at Batty. "She's all-knowing."

He couldn't keep a damn thing secret from Batty. He didn't know why he'd bothered to try.

"Easy," said Batty. "You stopped sulking."

"I didn't sulk!" Jeffrey protested, though he had.

"You sulked." Batty nodded solemnly.

"That doesn't mean much. He would have cheered up just because I didn't get married," said Skye. Jeffrey couldn't decide if she was defending him or teasing him.

"Maybe," Batty agreed. She threw the wadded up sash at Skye. "But then you started climbing out of closets. There was no other logical explanation for that."

"One – one closet!" said Skye, donning a guilty grin. It quickly fell away, replaced by indignation. "Wait a minute. You saw that? You asked me if I knew where Jeffrey was!"

Batty snorted. "I knew where he was."

"And you didn't say anything, why?" Skye demanded.

"That's no fun. I thought I'd let you sneak around."

Batty pulled Jeffrey out of his chair, and they left Skye alone at the table. Looking back, he saw that she was still grumbling over Batty's confession. He laughed as he walked through the ballroom doorway and lost sight of her.

"Jeffrey," said Batty, now that they were alone. "What did you do?"

"What?"

"About Skye," said Batty. "What stunt did you pull that was crazy enough to make her cancel her wedding? And by the way, I cannot believe you didn't tell me first."

"I was not the crazy stunt puller," he said. Skye had pulled more stunts than he had. His mother had been practically acrobatic, but he'd been stunt-free.

"No?" Batty lifted her brows.

"No," he promised. He smiled, walking in silence while he thought over every unexpected, incredible second from the last thirty-six hours. "She kissed me. She told me she ended things with Dušek, and when I asked why, she kissed me."

"Just like that?" Batty was suspicious.

"Yeah. Well, sort of." Jeffrey laughed. "It's a long story."

"I bet it is." She teased him with a sideways smirk. "I have to say, I'm relieved. Fixing you up from an ocean away – that would have been exhausting."

"Hold on," said Jeffrey. "I would have fixed myself up, thank you."

"Sure." Batty's sarcasm disagreed with him.

He rolled his eyes. With work, and a lot of time, he would have put his heart back together. Maybe not entirely on his own, but he wouldn't have burdened Batty with the job – nor would he have let her take it from him, as he had known she would try.

He had grown used to Skye's rejection. With each year, it hurt less, until the pain was mostly bearable. Constant enough to be a part of him, though he had known that he couldn't live with it forever. That was what he had feared most – the day he would finally decide that he deserved to live better. When he would choose self-respect over his castle in the air. Years ago he had stopped waiting to be loved by Skye, but to stop wanting to be? He hadn't known how. Giving up hope for romance hadn't been difficult. Hope hinges upon possibility, and he had thought there was none. The idea of Skye was harder to let go of. To do that, he would have needed to give a new identity to the side of him so entangled in covetousness, to sacrifice a decade-old dream to make space for an attainable one. He had thought a lot about what those choices would mean for him – peace, confidence, a fulfilling relationship with himself as well as with a woman – but he'd been frightened of the steps it would take to reach such results. Frightened enough that he hadn't taken any of them. He had finally, finally been willing to start, to sacrifice his friendship with Skye for the sake of his mental health, but being willing and being prepared were not the same thing. He hadn't been prepared at all. Skye's impending wedding had been so hard for him to swallow, because it would have been the straw to break the back of his masochistic attachment to her. It had been the signal that it was time to treat himself better, to live as he deserved, like Skye did. He had broken a long time ago, healed as well as he could, and healed wrong – set in perpetual heartache. To be properly rebuilt, he would have first needed to be torn down. He'd been more afraid of that than anything.

He still lived with that fear. It was no longer active, but its stamp remained. He imagined this was what it felt like to be shot at, to have a bullet so narrowly miss your head that it buzzes in your ear. If he thought about it too hard, it froze him. The end had been so close he'd tasted it. He had yet to fully grasp how it had somehow passed him by.

He must have been thinking about it too hard. He didn't respond to Batty, so she grabbed his arm, deeming clarification necessary. "I only tease because you're okay."

He didn't need her to clarify. He liked that they could laugh about it all now. It hadn't been funny for a very long time.

"I would have been okay," he said, for pride's sake.

"I know." Batty squeezed his arm before she dropped it. "But now you're better."

"Much."

Batty smiled at him with glassy eyes.

"Please don't cry," Jeffrey said with a surprised laugh. If she did, he might. Again. It was what he'd first done after Skye had left him to find Rosalind – finished redressing and cried on the couch for half an hour. That's the thing about pain: it hurts when it leaves too.

"Don't tell me what to do." Batty gave him a hug – a great, happy, energetic hug that spun him around and made them both laugh. "I was really worried about you."

"So was I."

Batty leaned away, but she kept her hands on his arms. "You have always deserved to be loved back – by anybody – but especially by my stupid sister."

Jeffrey said, "Shucks."

"I mean it."

He opened the front door, then slung his arm around her shoulders. "Everyone needs a Batty."

"Battys are limited edition. Special customers only."

"Then I'm glad I made the cut."

Batty elbowed him. "You were the first."

It didn't take long for the party to meet the band outside. It took less time for Jeffrey to pick Skye out of the crowd that mingled and danced on the lawn. He did his part – he watched Rosalind and Tommy's first dance, he watched her dance with Mr. Penderwick, but after that, he only took his eyes off Skye to glance at sheet music. She wasn't dancing, which wasn't a surprise. She stood off on her own, drinking champagne. She talked to the various people who came to say hello, but whenever they wandered off, she stayed where she was and watched him play. It made him nervous, as if he hadn't played in front of Skye loads of times. As if he didn't perform for a living.

He stayed at the keyboard for over an hour. They took a break after their first set, and Jeffrey made the impulsive decision to skip the second one. As fun as it was to share secret looks and smiles with Skye, there was only so much time before the wedding would be over and he lost his chance to spend it with her. Piano could wait. He did have three of them.

He didn't have to voice his decision himself. Alec had been paying attention to him. He screwed the lid back on his water bottle and said, "Batty can take your spot."

Jeffrey looked at her. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, go on." She set her microphone stand next to the keyboard. "Have your fun, homewrecker."

"I told you, I'm not a homewrecker," said Jeffrey. He didn't like that word. It made him feel guilty, if only marginally.

Alec laughed.

"I'm not!"

"The home was wrecked," said Batty.

"Not by me."

"Because of you."

"Same thing," said Alec. "Sorry."

"Well, stop calling me that," said Jeffrey.

Batty kicked him off the stool and took his place. "If you say please."

"Please?"

She grinned. "Okay, fine."

"Thank you. You're both terrible," said Jeffrey.

"Are we terrible, or are we honest?" said Alec.

"Terrible," said Jeffrey, but he laughed. He walked away without a word of explanation to Turron or Enam. They would understand soon enough.

"Hey," Skye said when he approached.

"Hey yourself."

She handed him the remaining bit of her champagne, which he finished in two sips. "Don't feel like you have to keep me company. I like watching you play."

Jeffrey was itching to kiss her, but he didn't, since he wasn't yet allowed to in front of other people. He impatiently awaited when he could.

"I don't," he said. "It's lonely up there."

Skye rolled her eyes. "You love it."

"Not enough for right now."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Goodness. I feel special."

He really did want to kiss her. At least touch her. He refrained from both, but let his interest express itself on his face.

Skye could read his mind. With a sly smile, she said, "Let's go for a walk."

"You don't have another big secret to share, do you?" he teased, since so many of their recent and private conversations had been dedicated to secrets.

"Fresh out."

Jeffrey set the empty champagne glass on a nearby plastic table. He and Skye wandered away from the party, unnoticed and alone. He plucked a curl off her shoulder and made it bounce. "Who did your hair?"

"What makes you think I didn't?"

"Call it a hunch."

"A good hunch. It was Jane."

They had already walked to the other side of the hedge. No one could see them, so Jeffrey swept her curled hair away from her neck and kissed under her ear. "I like it."

"I thought you might."

"Does that mean you dressed up for me?"

Skye's nose crinkled. "I don't dress to impress."

"Of course not." Jeffrey slid her hand into his. "Neither do I."

"You're fishing for a compliment, aren't you?"

"I don't know. Do you have one to give?"

"Sure." Skye pulled his arm to spin him toward her. She kissed him and said, "You look good. Very dapper."

That one short kiss was enough to reawaken Jeffrey's hankering for them. Every time he kissed her took the place of a time when he had wanted to kiss her, but couldn't. He wanted to replace them all. That would take a lot of kissing – those thoughts dated back to high school, to junior high, even. He'd probably been thirteen the first time he'd thought he might like to kiss Skye. He'd been right. He liked it very much. He'd do it all day if she let him.

She didn't let him. Much too soon she broke away and asked, "Hey, what did your mom have to say?"

"Ugh. Do you care?" Jeffrey mumbled, kissing her face and down her neck.

"You were pretty upset before you left." She turned his chin with her thumb. "So yes, I care."

Jeffrey sighed, just so she would know how much it pained him to talk when they could make out.

"Come on," Skye laughed. "What did she say?"

There were many ways he could answer that. He chose, "She said she's glad I'm happy."

"Among other things, right?"

"Right."

He thought Skye would ask what other things, but she didn't. She asked, "Are you still angry with her?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"Really?" She'd said that before, but it was nice to hear again.

Skye's lips lifted at one corner. "Really. If she hadn't meddled, I wouldn't be able to do this." She grabbed his face and kissed him fast, mouth open, tongue against his.

Jesus.

She stopped and said, "An unfortunate truth, but a truth I can't deny."

"What all did that meddling entail, anyway? I'm curious." She hadn't told him much, just the highlights.

"Let's see." Skye folded her hands behind his neck. "I believe she called me dense."

"Dense?" Jeffrey repeated. He curled his arm around her lower back. "How come?"

"According to her…" One of Skye's hands fell from his neck and slid down his chest. "I don't know how valuable you are."

"Regrettable oversight."

Skye laughed. "Mine or hers?"

"I would have said yours, but now—" Jeffrey tightened his arm around her back, jerking her a half step forward so her hips pressed into him. He leaned down, but didn't quite kiss her. He whispered, "Now I know it was hers."

"Uh huh," Skye mumbled in the second she had before he started kissing her. They did for a while before she said, "She accused me of fucking with you, in different words."

"Did you?" Jeffrey whispered against her jawline. He sucked on it gently while he waited on an answer.

"Only when we were sitting at the fountain," she said. "And I kept—"

"Touching me," he finished. He kissed to her ear and nipped at it. "Yeah. I was very fucked with."

"I thought I might—"

"Get me to confess?" He had been so confused at the time. It made sense to him now.

Skye smiled and pulled his mouth back to hers. "I tried." She mumbled through that kiss. "You gave me nothing." She kissed him again. "Incredible. A+."

Jeffrey grinned and flicked his tongue over her lip. "How'd that make you feel, Skye?"

"So stupidly pissed."

He laughed, and he leaned back just enough to really see her face. He liked this game, but he did have one question he'd pause it for. "But you still took the risk. Why?"

"Your mom really thought she was right," said Skye. "She pretty much told me I was holding you hostage."

"That's dramatic."

She nodded. "Something about—"

He didn't mean to interrupt her. His mouth had a mind of its own, back on Skye's before he could hold it still.

She laughed. "About my claws in your back." She dug her fingers into his back to demonstrate.

"I like your claws."

"They like you too."

They stopped talking to each other after that. Their kiss was hot-blooded and intoxicating. He wouldn't be the one to stop it, not even to flirt. He craved her; he had craved her for years, fought against it until he hardly remembered how it felt to be at peace. That peace was addictive. It rewrote him. He savored this feverish blend of reality and fantasy. With her right there, in his arms and on his lips, half of him still expected to wake up alone in his bed with her wedding to suffer through.

There are those who say that realizing a dream can leave you lost. Jeffrey didn't understand that. He'd found his way home. That truth drove his kiss; it was spoken through it.

Nearby, there was the sound of giggling – faint, but growing louder. Jeffrey didn't notice. Skye didn't. Both were caught up in the press of the other's body, in possessive hands and fervid mouths. They didn't hear the footsteps.

Jeffrey was jolted out of his amorous haze, not by an alarm clock, but by a voice.

"Oh—" came the loud gasp, followed by a much quieter, "my god."

Skye jumped and bit Jeffrey's lip.

"Ouch," he said, though it hadn't really hurt.

A laugh hummed in her throat. She touched her fingers to his victimized lip. "Sorry." She peeked over his shoulder at their company. "Well shit."

There came a chuckle, a second voice. A man's.

"You two are so completely busted."


A/N: I watched hours of wedding vow tiktoks for research, and now my fyp thinks I'm getting married