Page 69 of Seal My Fate

“I knew it!” I wail, swatting his shoulder with my tiny evening purse. Also feathered. Also pink. “You get to look all dashing and dapper in full formal dress, but I’m waddling around like Big Bird at a bridal shower, here!”

“If it helps, you’re the sexiest ostrich I’ve ever seen,” Saint grins, flicking one of the feathers on my bust, and I have to laugh.

“If this is what the guests are wearing, I can’t wait to see her dress,” I say, as the car slows to a stop. “It’s going to be unforgettable, I’m sure.”

And so will today be, but for far more nerve-wracking reasons. Saint and I decided that he’s going to approach his father during the wedding festivities and see if he can get Alexander St. Clair to turn on his coconspirators. With his confession, it will be easy to unravel the mess of fraud and threats at Ashford Pharma, so I can only hope that Saint’s instincts are right, and his father can be convinced to do the right thing.

Saint opens the door for me, and me—and my feathers—climb out. Then my jaw drops.

“They’re getting marriedhere?”

We’re standing on the wide white steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral, the elaborate columns and stonework rising high above us, all the way to the looming dome. It’s magnificent and imposing, especially with a special royal-blue carpet leading up the stairs, and uniformed staff lining the walkway.

“You know Annabelle,” Saint says with a smirk. “She’s the queen of understatement.”

I laugh, gripping his hand tightly as we join the procession of guests making their way into the building. Inside, the exquisitely painted ceilings tower above us, covered with religious friezes and elaborate art; the place is as big as a football field, with cathedral pews lined up facing the vast, imposing alter at the far end. Everything is adorned with gold and pale pink, from the ribbons trailing tastefully from every column and pew, to the massive bouquets of lush hothouse roses and peonies billowing at every turn, a fairytale brought to life.

I blink, stunned at the extravagance. “Well… It’s one way to get married, I guess.”

“Not your style?” Saint asks, as an usher offers us gilt-rimmed glasses of sparkling mocktails, with rose petals floating in the top.

“Um, nope!” I laugh.

“So how would you choose to tie the knot?” he asks, a questioning smile playing on his lips.

“Without the crowds, and signature cocktails, for one thing,” I reply, taking a sip. “I don’t know… I’ve always pictured something private,” I confide, feeling self-conscious. “Exchanging my vows with my partner, somewhere in nature maybe, just the two of us. The party could come later, but I like to think the wedding would be just for us. Making our promises to each other—that’s all that really matters.”

I pause. I never gave much thought to it before, but now I realize, Saint is the person I imagine in the scene with me. Slipping a ring on my finger, promising to love me until the very end.

I blush, glancing over at him. “Seems cheesy, I know,” I blurt, feeling embarrassed.

“Not at all.” Saint is gazing down at me, with a new intention in his eyes. “Let’s do it.”

I laugh. “Sure, why not?”

“I mean it.”

I look twice, but sure enough, even though he’s smiling, there’s nothing joking about his expression. “Saint…” I protest, although what I’m protesting, I’m not quite sure.

“Tessa, it’s you,” Saint says softly, his blue eyes fixed on mine. “You’re the one I want to spend my life with. Nothing else could ever compare.”

I catch my breath, I’m so overwhelmed. My heart beats faster, already pounding out the answer that’s on the tip of my tongue.

Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.

“Not now,” I blurt, flustered.

Saint grins. “Well, yes. I’m not sure Max or Annabelle would approve of us hijacking their big day.”

I laugh. “You know what I mean. I can’t think straight, not with everything else going on. But… We’ll talk about it.”

“Is that a promise?” Saint asks, arching his eyebrow.

I blush deeper. “Yes. Talk,” I add, but he’s smiling like I just said ‘I do.’

Which, maybe I did, in my way.

Saint draws me closer for a kiss, and I sigh happily, sliding my hand down his back—

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