All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(112)

She could do this. With Alex at her side, she could do anything at all.

FOR A MOMENT, Alex could only stare at her beloved face, awash with pride.

Her answer had been confident and clear. More than that, though, it was diplomatic and thoughtful and sincere and kind.

It was Wren, laid bare to the world.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then forced himself to turn back to Vika. “Yeah, filming with our friends and family is great. Especially when a bunch of them can visit at the same time, like in Vegas.”

Vika leaned forward. “Speaking of Las Vegas …”

Well, they’d both known this was coming.

“So far, your Gold Coast visit with your mother is your most-viewed episode.” She was nearly vibrating with eagerness, her expression avid and delighted. “But I suspect the upcoming Sin City episode will surpass those numbers. Care to tell our viewers why?”

The Gold Coast trip remained special to him for so many reasons. The pleasure of revisiting treasured sights from his childhood. The extended time he got to spend with his mom, all without a decade of grief and guilt tainting their love for one another. The way she’d adored Wren. The moment she’d told the camera, tears pooling in her gray eyes, that she was so proud of him it hurt sometimes, and he’d cried a little too.

But even with all those amazing memories, yes, Vegas was better.

Not just the highlight of the show, the highlight of his fucking life.

“Ahhhhhhh. Good question.” Grinning like the fool he was, he kissed the top of Wren’s head and breathed in the familiar scent of coconut. “During our trip to Las Vegas, after countless weeks of pleading and lamenting my lost virtue, I finally got Lauren here to make an honest man out of me. On Christmas Day, because I’m clearly the most enticing present imaginable.”

You’re my wish come true, Wren, he’d told her in their blackout-curtained suite on the Strip, resting naked in her warm arms after one of their very frequent and delightful pegging interludes. Please be mine forever. Please make me yours.

They’d called everyone the next morning, and three days later, he became Mr. Wren Clegg. Or, rather, still Alex Woodroe, but they both knew that was just a formality.

“The hundredth time he complained about how cheap he felt, I couldn’t take anymore, Vika,” Lauren said, completely deadpan. “It was either a ring or a muzzle.”

The frown was hard to muster, but he tried anyway. “Why was I not told about the muzzle option? We both know I enjoy—”

Her hand covered his mouth, and she spoke over him. “It was a lovely ceremony, and we’re delighted so many of our friends and family could come on such short notice.”

His mom and her parents. All his Gates castmates, other than Ian. Sionna. Dina.

Everyone had gathered in the small, lovely hotel chapel and watched Alex and Wren walk down the aisle arm in arm, because fuck tradition. They’d begin as they meant to go on. Together.

When he licked her palm, her thighs pressed together, but her face remained placid as she added, “Just think of how much money we saved on videography services, Vika.”

Very dry. Very practical. Very Wren.

But he’d seen her blink back tears as they’d exchanged vows, just like him.

“My heartfelt congratulations to you both, and best wishes for a lifetime of happiness together.” Vika’s smile was soft. “Lauren, I noticed your necklace, and I wondered whether it was a wedding gift. It’s quite unusual, isn’t it?”

“One of a kind.” Wren smiled back at her. “Just like my husband.”

Since she wasn’t a tattoo person, and he wouldn’t pressure her to do anything that made her uncomfortable, he’d given her a necklace to wear over her heart. A platinum chain with a feather pendant, which he’d had inscribed with the word RIDICULOUS and studded with aquamarines the color of her eyes.

“You’re not ridiculous,” he’d told her when she opened the velvet box. “But I am. Ridiculously in love with you.”

Except in the shower, she never took it off, to his continued smug delight.

Still, he’d itched to give her something else too, something she chose for herself, so right before their wedding, he’d begged her to name something—anything—she wanted. And to his absolute bewilderment, she’d promptly requested a bathrobe made from the same cotton fabric he used for his towels.

“One that fits me right,” she’d specified. “I eyed that robe in the guesthouse for months, wishing it came in my size.”

He’d stared at her, entirely nonplussed. “It is in your size, Wren. I called Dina while we were in Spain and had it made before your arrival. Why the fuck would I give you a robe that didn’t fit you?”

“Oh.” Her face had turned delectably pink. “I guess I shouldn’t have assumed.”

When he’d demanded an apology in nonverbal, naked form, she’d happily obliged.

“And what did you give him as a wedding gift?” Vika asked.

Once more, Wren smiled. “I wrote him a love letter.”

“Oh, how sweet.” Vika pressed a hand to her heart, beaming. Since his reunion with Wren, the two of them had acted out so many of his favorite fics. They’d kissed for science. Banged once, to get it out of their systems. Pretended their marriage was arranged, then accidental. Last week, they’d even acted out the body-swap trope, with surprisingly hilarious results.