Page 155 of Wicked Serve

It’s her. I know it before I even see her.

Unlike my mother, she’s wearing delicate heels, but that doesn’t stop her from sprinting across the lawn to me.

“Your shoes, darling,” Richard calls.

“Fuck my shoes!” She darts around yet another display of flowers, her skirt catching in the breeze. Her hair is loose, but curled; it streams behind her like a mane. I hold out my arms, heart beating so fast it might make a break for it. But a couple feet from me, she skids to a stop. She brushes the hair out of her face and stares.

“Isabelle,” I start. I had a whole speech, I practiced it on the plane, but now I can’t remember a single word. Not when she’s staring at me, more gorgeous than ever, the tears in her eyes glittering like the diamonds around her neck.

“Your beard is atrocious.” She claps a hand over her mouth, laughing helplessly. “Please tell me this is a playoffs-only thing.”

“Come here.”

She drops her hand, shuffling the tiniest bit closer. “You’re here. Really here.” Her eyes search my face; she wipes the tears away without a thought to her makeup. “I swear to God, Kolya, if this isn’t—”

“It is.” I take a step in her direction. There isn’t much distance between us now. “I wanted to come home.”

“Forever?”

I nod. I don’t know whether I can speak.

She finally lurches into my embrace, throwing her arms around my neck. I hug her tightly, the tension rushing out of me as soon as I catch a hint of her perfume. I’m home.

“I missed you,” she whispers thickly. “I was afraid maybe—maybe you’d change your mind.”

“Never.” My voice is rough with emotion, an unending well of it that I can’t stop falling into. I don’t care. I don’t want to stop falling, not when it comes to her. I ease far enough away that I can look into those calm, beautiful eyes. “You’re everything to me, Isabelle. You’re stubborn warmth and wild summertime. You’re sunshine.” I put her hand against my heart so she can feel its staccato beating. “I feel your light here, always.”

“I love you.” She cups my jaw, stroking over my beard, and repeats the phrase in Russian, her voice strong and steady. “You’re my favorite, Kolya.”

I kiss her with abandon, with heat, with everything in my soul. “You found it?”

“Did you know even then?”

“Yes,” I whisper against her lips. “Even then.”

It’s a beautiful wedding.

I stand next to Cooper, Sebastian, and James’s friend Bo—plus their dog, Kiwi—on the groom’s side during the ceremony. Isabelle, holding Charlie in her arms so she’s part of the action, stands in a pair of backup heels next to Penny, Mia, and Bex’s friend Laura. Richard walks Bex down the aisle, to my surprise, and she’s so excited that she kisses James before the officiant gives them permission.

Even though I want nothing more than to sweep Isabelle into my arms the moment the reception begins, I let her work. The elegant decor, the live band, the subtle nods to football and photography—it’s all her doing, and it all comes together like a richly woven tapestry.

When the first dances wrap up and the floor opens to everyone else, however, I can’t help myself. I catch her elbow, tugging her to my chest.

“Let’s dance.”

She squints at me. “I need to make sure things are set for dinner.”

“My mom can do it.” I rub my thumb across the inside of her wrist. “I have so much to tell you.”

“Like what?”

I kiss her softly. “Dance with me and you’ll find out.”

“Wait. Not here.” She leads me to the tent entrance. “Look how pretty this is.”

Now that it’s later in the day, tendrils of sunset reach out across the sky. She makes a beeline for the dogwoods, lit with fairy lights. The music fades into the background. Even though the sunlight is slipping away, the air is pleasantly warm. Springtime bordering summer.

“Maybe we should have a sunset wedding.”

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