Page 100 of Beautiful Vows

"It's so pretty," I add.

He sighs dramatically. "I suppose I have no choice. But if anyone takes pictures, there will be consequences."

We all laugh, the tension of the past few weeks finally breaking.

And as I help Dante into his blinged-out wheelchair, I can't help but feel grateful. We may be unconventional, but we're a family, and it's moments like these that remind me of why it works. The reason I'm so happy I gave our love a chance.

I'm sure in this world, love, laughter, and a healthy dose of stupidity are what will keep us going, even in the darkest times.

As we make our way down the hospital corridors, following two bodyguards, I can't help but grin at the spectacle we're creating.

Dante, despite his initial protests, seems to enjoy the attention his decorated wheelchair is attracting. Nurses and patients turn to stare, most smiling at the sight.

Behind us, another three burly bodyguards follow at a discreet distance. All under Dominic's orders. He spoke to me, and he doesn't want any chances with me or his family. Tensions are still high after the deaths of so many mafia heads.

"I feel like I'm in a parallel universe where I've joined the circus," Dante mutters, but I can hear the amusement in his voice.

I swear I see one bodyguard fighting back a smirk.

"You need to laugh, Dante. Our lives are about to change and I hope we can still find the fun in living," I say, seriously.

And then I blow a raspberry and dance around him.

Dante rolls his eyes, but there's no hiding the grin spreading across his face. "Alright, alright. You've made your point. Though I have to say, you'd make a terrible clown."

I stop my ridiculous dance and lean down to kiss his cheek. "Don't worry, I have no plans to run away with the circus."

"They wouldn't employ you. You're terrible," he deadpans.

I slam my hand on my heart. "I'm wounded." Then smile. "But not as much as you are." I burst out laughing.

"My god! Your jokes are abysmal."

I tilt my head. "It’s a good job that I'm useful with a gun."

That makes him laugh out loud.

As we approach the hospital exit, I spot our car waiting at the curb. Two more bodyguards step out as we approach, their eyes scanning the area with practiced efficiency.

"Looks like your father's taking no chances," I whisper to Dante. "Because, apparently, we were taking too many stupid chances." I shrug my shoulders.

He nods, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Can't blame him after what happened."

"I forgot to tell you. Cade found Lucia on the security footage stalking my apartment and she was seen running away the day I was shot. Proving how much of a terrible shot she is." I rub my now healed thigh.

"She could have caught you in the elevator." He sighs.

"But she didn't. And she would've died earlier if she did. I carry weapons and I don't miss, unlike her."

We pause on the sidewalk, and one bodyguard approaches us. "Sir," he addresses Dante, "we're ready when you are. Johnson will stay in the car and keep the engine running."

A sign to let us know the car doesn't have a bomb strapped to it.

I watch as the designated guard slides back into the driver's seat, the low rumble of the engine joining the ambient noise of the street.

From our vantage point on the sidewalk, I take in the scene. Dante in his blinged-out wheelchair, surrounded by stone-faced guards, and Rafe and Cade.

"Ready to go home?" I ask Dante, squeezing his shoulder gently.

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