Aflame (Fall Away #4)(76)

I turned my head, hearing the music start, and suddenly my pulse starting raging—pumping like a machine gun under my skin—and I focused on the path next to the rocks. Where I knew she was coming from.

Four cello players sat above us on a rock landing, playing Apocalyptica’s rendition of “Nothing Else Matters,” and everything hurt as I looked around. In a good way, I guess. I just wanted to see her so badly.

Juliet came first, dressed in a light pink, knee-length dress, her hair spilling around her, and I heard my brother’s sharp intake of breath. Her small baby bump was visible under her high-waisted dress, but she looked great, having gotten over the morning sickness.

Fallon trailed behind her in a gray dress similar to Juliet’s, her hair in long curls, and I caught her wink at Madoc before coming to stand next to Juliet on the other side of the officiant.

I darted my eyes over to the rocks again, keeping them glued there. I hadn’t seen Tate in more than twenty-four hours because our friends had decided that keeping us separate would make the wedding day more special. But I couldn’t wait anymore.

I’d waited for years.

She appeared, arm in arm with her dad, and I smiled, locking eyes with her.

“She’s beautiful,” I heard Madoc say.

I blew out a slow breath, feeling my eyes burn as my throat tightened.

I blinked away the tears and clenched my jaw, trying everything to keep myself steady.

“Just look at her, okay?” Jax whispered. “Hold her eyes, and you’ll be fine.”

I swallowed the needles in my throat and looked up at her again, seeing the joy and peace all over her face.

Why did I feel like I was in pain?

She’d never looked more beautiful.

Her strapless dress had a sweetheart neckline—don’t ask how I knew that shit now—that featured glimmering jewels on the bodice that brought out the glow in the smooth skin of her neck and arms. The bottom of the antique white dress was tulle that held layer upon layer all the way to the ground, and even though the dress was beautiful, I didn’t care about every little feature. All I knew was that she broke my heart looking like a dream that was all mine.

Her hair hung perfect in loose curls, and she wore light makeup enhancing every bit of her. Looking down, I saw white Chucks peek out of the dress as she walked, and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself.

She stepped up, not taking her eyes off of me as her dad kissed her cheek and handed her over.

I knew it wasn’t a politically correct practice anymore—fathers handing responsibility for a daughter’s care over to a man—but it meant something to me.

And I never doubted that she’d take care of me just as much as I did her.

I clasped her hand in mine and felt James’s hand grip my arm reassuringly before he stepped aside.

I looked up at the officiant, nodding at him to get going.

“Can you hurry up?” I urged, hearing Madoc and Jax laugh at my side.

I didn’t mean to be rude, but Tate was like a meal I was being forced to stare at as I starved.

The dude smiled and opened his folder to begin.

I looked down at Tate, barely hearing his words. “I love you,” I whispered.

I love you, too, she mouthed, smiling.

The people around us listened to the officiant’s short speech about love and communication, trust and tolerance, but I didn’t take my eyes off Tate for a single second.

It’s not that we didn’t need to listen. We knew we didn’t know everything, and we knew we were going to fight. We’d learned too many lessons the hard way to take for granted how far we’d come.

But I couldn’t not look at her. It was too perfect a day.

The officiant passed it off to me as Jax handed him the rings, and he handed me Tate’s.

I put in on her finger, sliding it only halfway as I spoke only to her.

“As my friend, I liked you,” I whispered. “As my enemy, I craved you. As a fighter, I loved you, and as my wife”—I slid the ring the rest of the way on—“I keep you.” I squeezed her hand. “Forever,” I promised.

Silent tears spilled down her cheeks, and she smiled, even though her chest shook. Taking my ring from the man’s hand, she slipped it on my finger.

“When you left me the first time, I was devastated,” she said, speaking of when we were fourteen. “And when you left me the second time, I was defiant. But both times I regret,” she admitted, keeping her voice low. “I always fought with you instead of fighting for you, and if I commit to doing one thing differently for the rest of our lives, Jared”—she inhaled a deep breath, steadying her voice—“it would be to make sure you always know that I will fight for you.” She blinked, sending more tears down her cheeks. “Forever.”

I knew it without needing to hear her say it, but it still felt good to hear. Being a kid was hard. Being a kid with no one to count on changed my life. And hers. She knew how much I needed her.

I saved the officiant the trouble and took the back of her neck in my hand before pulling her in for a kiss.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pressed her body into mine and kissed my wife for almost longer than necessary, getting lost in her taste and scent, before pulling back slightly to lean my forehead into hers.

Laughter and snickers erupted around us, but I didn’t care. I’d waited long enough, in my opinion.