Page 164 of Royal Bargain
We step out onto the grass.
As we move toward the altar, I catch glimpses of faces that nearly bring me to tears—Aleksey, standing quietly off to the side, his hands clasped in front of him. My sisters, together in one row. Sasha gives me a little wave, eyes glassy while Sofia beams, proud of me. Even Tatiana is here, chin trembling as she smiles.
I never thought I’d see them again.
And yet… here they are.
Here I am.
When we reach the front, my father leans in close and presses a kiss to my temple. “I was wrong about a lot of things,” he whispers. “But I was never wrong about your being strong.”
I blink hard as I take Liam’s hand.
And suddenly, it doesn’t matter how many people are watching. Doesn’t matter how much blood has been spilled, how many scars we carry.
Because in this moment, I know.
I’m not alone.
I never was.
The ceremony’s kind of a blur, if I’m being honest. Just flashes—sunlight in my eyes, Liam’s hands shaking as he fumbled with the ring, both of us laughing through the nerves. I remember his voice cracking when he called me his wife, and suddenly, it hit me. We really did it.
At the reception, Clary catches the bouquet, but without missing a beat, she passes it to Sasha with a smirk. Sasha turns beet red. I don’t think she’s stopped blushing since.
Everything feels so easy. Light. Like maybe we could have this kind of happiness after all.
And then something shifts. A ripple moving through the crowd, soft at first but spreading quickly.
People start whispering, turning their heads toward the far edge of the lawn.
Liam stiffens at my side, his protective instincts kicking in, but before anyone can draw a weapon or call for security, Kellan barks out a dry laugh.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Then she comes strutting across the grass in four-inch heels and oversized sunglasses, holding a champagne flute she definitely hadn’t gotten from the bar—Emilie Gunnerson, in a sparkly dress far too bold for the occasion, acting like she’d been on the guest list all along.
But I barely pay attention, even when I see her dancing with Lucky in the corner of the rented tent.
Because Lily was asleep in my arms, warm and soft against my chest.
Because Liam was brushing his thumb along my wrist, watching me like I hung the moon.
Because for the first time in my life, the world didn’t feel like something I had to run from.
When the sun finally set, casting golden light across the lawn, we said our goodbyes and slipped away—just the three of us.
Our new townhouse is quiet when we arrive, tucked just beyond the city, far from the chaos we’ve left behind. The porch light glows softly, welcoming us home. There’s still furniture to be arranged, pictures to be hung, a thousand little things left undone.
But none of it matters.
Not tonight.
Liam carries Lily in and sets her gently in the crib we built together last week. I follow behind him, shedding my shoes, my dress, the last remnants of the day. And when he turns to me—his hair mussed, his tie crooked, his smile tired but full—I realize…
This is what home feels like.
Later that night,after Lily’s asleep and we’re curled up on the couch in our new living room, I hear a faint, high-pitched mew.
