Page 89 of Vow of Vengeance

Is love.

She’s right. She’s always right.

We stare into one another’s eyes. The understanding that passes between us changes everything; this moment defines our future. For the first time in forever, I feel joy.

And I say, “Ophelia, I love you.”

In a moment, she goes from crying to laughing. Her blue eyes are wide and filled with happiness as she stares at me. “I know you do. I can feel it. I just needed you to know it.”

“I can be pretty dense sometimes,” I say.

“No,” she laughs. “You’re not. It’s just good to hear you say you love me, too.”

“Yeah. Thanks for being patient.” To my shock and horror, tears creep into the corners of my eyes. Quickly, I brush them away. "I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say. “Don’t you move a muscle.”

Her smile twitches. “And what happens if I move a muscle?”

“Then—” I smile back. “You know what? You do whatever the hell you want. Just please, please, be there when I get back,” I beg. “Please.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “But maybe if you repeat it, you’ll convince me.”

And I say the words she wants to hear, freeing myself from the chains of my past.

“I love you, you perfect, beautiful girl,” I say. “I love you.”

Ophelia

I stand in the church doorway, unable to tear my gaze away from my husband-to-be. He doesn’t see me hiding in the wings where I can observe him while I wait for my musical cue to walk up the aisle to meet him. If you’d told me he could look more handsome, I’d have said it was a lie, but now, with him in his tailor-made tux and a happy smile on his face, I’m speechless at how handsome he looks.

I love him. It feels so good to say those words and hear him say them back. I love him, and I love that he had to have his brother beside him at the altar for this day. And his mother in the first pew, right beside mine.

Turns out forgiveness means more to him than revenge.

Ecstatic by our wedding plans, Liam quickly forgave Haze for breaking protocol and going to his family. Liam and Emilia personally extended the invitation to my mother-in-law—still getting used to that term—to our bachelorette party spa day. Her hair is a warm shade of honey that suits her skin tone, and they’ve made her up just enough to enhance her delicate bone structure. They have the same nose, her and him and his brother.

Blaze stands beside Harrison, my husband's younger, taller version. He’s much closer to my age than Harrison and we enjoy playing games on the Play Station together while Harrison looks on, grumbling about us wasting our time and ruining oureyesight but he’s the one to get up and ask Gian for more of his gourmet butter popcorn, so I don’t think he minds it too much.

Blaze’s uncomfortable in his fine black Armani suit, and he keeps reaching up to adjust his collar or tug at the tie Grandma probably tied too tightly.

I feel him, having traded in my joggers for a Luca Magliano gown, the lace itching my lower back where it dips low, just above my ass. The silky fabric sweeps over my body, hitting all the right places so I look elegant and sexy all at once.

I look amazing in this dress, so I’ll deal with the discomfort.

This morning, I knew it was time to put my necklace back on. Now, I wear the three strands of pearls around my neck. Matching earrings adorn my earlobes, a family heirloom and an apology gift from Grandma.

Even as she still tried to tell me my dress was too revealing and improper to wear in a church. But now that we know she’s the one who hacked into Haze’s account and had two of her bridge buddies rob him in a park, Mom told her to turn her other cheek the other way and go take a seat in her pew.

Wait till Grandma sees my black graduation dress, made by the same Italian designer as the gown I wear today, modeled after Freya’s asymmetrical one I loved so much. It’s only got one sleeve, the bare skin showing well past my shoulder. She’s going to flip.

Grandpa squeezes my arm. “That’s us, Ophelia.” He smiles at me.

“Thank goodness you were paying attention,” I say, my stomach a flight of butterflies. “I would have missed it.”

There’s a Bachman-only ceremony later tonight, one I have no idea what to expect from, but Harrison reassures me I’ll be fine. I’m a little shaky in this new world. There are so many people for me to meet, women in the family who want to get to know me, but it will all have to wait. I’m going to be very busy on my two-week sexcapade honeymoon, and no one better even think about interrupting us.

I’m here, finally. We’ve reached the altar. I give Grandpa my cheek to kiss. He pats my hand and goes to join the family in their pew. Haze takes my hands in his, looking so deep into my eyes that I’m sure he sees my soul.

“There you are.” He squeezes my hands. “My bride. You look—” His eyes travel from the sparkly tiara on my head to the pointy tips of my silver heels. “There aren’t words to do you justice.”

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