“Oh, I don’t think so. Chance is out of town for work, and who knows with Cole. He kinda comes and goes whenever he wants to. But the rest of them should be—his brother Cameron with his daughter Grace, his sister Kayla, and his youngest brother, Kyle—who actually doesn’t have blonde hair but his dog, Peanut Butter, does. Plus, Charles and Miranda.”

  It’s a whole gaggle, but I’m learning to love them all. We’re going to make a new family, and I can’t wait to introduce Mom to all of them. Together, we walk toward the back door. I’m ready for this—to continue my story with Carter.

  Grace is standing just outside, holding a white basket tightly in her hands. “Drop the petals. Don’t throw the petals,” she murmurs to herself urgently. “Drop the petals. Don’t throw the petals.”

  I’m guessing Cameron gave her the mantra to repeat because without it, she’d likely be making it rain white rose petals in a joyous display of youthful exuberance that is Grace. She already managed to talk Carter into letting Peanut Butter be the ring bearer, claiming he’s the closest thing to a bear we have. And no amount of explaining that ring bearers aren’t actual bears like Smokey could convince her otherwise.

  “You’re gonna do great,” I tell her. When I was her age, walking alone or with a dog down an aisle of people watching me would’ve been horrifying.

  “Of course, I am,” she says confidently. Grace is obviously nothing like me. It took me much longer to find anything close to that comfort with myself.

  “Go for it, then,” Samantha tells the girl, tapping her on the shoulder as the music starts.

  Standing off to the side, I see Bernard hand Peanut Butter’s leash to Grace and give her a thumbs-up. She sets her shoulders and walks slowly out of view . . . step, together, pause and drop petals, step, together, pause and drop petals.

  Zack offers his elbow to Samantha, and they walk out together. Almost too quickly, it’s just me and Mom, and I feel like apologizing to her that we didn’t get the whole wedding-planning mother-daughter experience, but at the same time, I’m not sure I would’ve managed all that very well. It’s a lot of pressure and a lot of focused attention. Once upon a time, I would’ve fought my own anxieties to do the expected things for everyone else’s comfort, but now? I’m proud of who I am and more confident speaking up about what I want and don’t want. And this ‘wedding’ is perfect. For me.

  And that’s good enough for Carter.

  “I always hoped you’d find someone who would love you exactly as you are, Luna.” She takes my elbow and smiles affectionately. “That’s not always possible for the easiest of us, and I think we both know that as wonderful as you are, you’re not easy. You require people to be more. You see through them otherwise. But you don’t open yourself smoothly. You’re one step forward, two steps back. Sometimes, a whole leap back.” She grins, laughing lightly.

  “Wow, thanks. I’m really feeling the love, Mom.” My dry delivery undercuts that I know exactly what she’s talking about.

  “Let me finish,” she instructs me. “When you and Carter look at each other, I can see it. He loves you, Luna, and doesn’t want you to be anyone other than who you are. And though I never imagined you with a ‘suit’, when you look at him, I can see how much you love him too.”

  “Thanks,” I say more sincerely.

  She wraps her arm through mine, and we step down the aisle together. There’s a small gathering—the Harringtons, Samantha, Zack, Elena, Nelda, Stanley, and Bernard—but I don’t notice anything except Carter. Mom has to hold me back from running to him. But even with as slow as she’s going, in a blink, I’m in front of him.

  “Hi,” I whisper, waving with my free hand. But I forgot I was holding flowers, so it looks like I’m flapping them around.

  “Hi,” he answers with a sexy smile that makes me glad he’s my husband. He knows me, knows I’m awkward, and loves every second of it.

  I hand off my bouquet to Samantha and take Carter’s hands. The officiant speaks, but I’m lost in Carter’s eyes and don’t really register the words until he asks, “Does anyone have any reason these two people shouldn’t be married today?”

  It’s not the question that gets my attention, but Zack clearing his throat. Carter whirls, his eyes wide and incredulous.

  Zack grins back. “I was just gonna say that you can’t ‘be married today’ because you’re already married.” He slaps a solid pat to Carter’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend. You weren’t worried I was actually gonna object, were you?”

  “No, of course not.” Carter totally was.

  I kinda was too, even though Carter and Zack are fine now. They’ve continued their business, with Zack picking up another small property to flip just last week. Though Carter spends all his professional time working on the Cartwright estate, he and Zack spend the occasional lunch or hang out time here and there, talking business and investing what Carter calls ‘fun money’. Zack, on the other hand, calls it his livelihood, but it works for them the same way it always has.

  “May we continue?” the officiant asks. When Carter and I look back to him, he nods. “I understand you’ve written your own vows. Please proceed.”

  Carter licks his lips and for the first time, I see nervousness in his expression. We’re already married, so it’s not like anything he says here will change that, but this is important to us both.

  “Luna, I wish I could offer you pretty words or art that’d make you feel how much I love you because you deserve the moon, the stars, and more. Unfortunately, all I’m offering is me. I hope it’s enough because I love you. I will always love you. We started with lies and chaos, things I know you don’t like, but they were somehow the perfect beginning to something real. I vow to always be truthful with you and with myself, to protect your heart as if it’s my own, and to stand in front of you when you need a moment to hide, beside you as we tackle life together, and behind you when your badass comes out. All versions are equally you and equally beautiful to me.”

  “Wow,” I breathe, and everyone giggles, which makes my cheeks hot. I clear my throat, trying to remember the words I’ve practiced dozens of times, but they’re gone. My mind is completely blank.

  “It’s okay,” Carter says quietly, reading me again. “Look at me. It’s just us.”

  I fall into Carter’s blue eyes again, like I have so many times now, and see the warmth and acceptance there. I don’t need my practiced words. I know how I feel.

  “I hated you, and then you tricked me into this situation that made me uncomfortable. But those aren’t bad things. You pushed me to grow and showed me that things aren’t always what they seem. And in more ways than one, you made my dreams come true. And now, we have a lifetime to create our future and become whoever we want to be . . . together. I vow to bravely go with you on this journey and enjoy every step along the way . . . even when we have to take a step backward to truly go forward.” I glance over at Mom, and she’s tearing up that I used her words in my vows.

  “Lovely,” the officiant says. “And now, you may seal your vows with a—”

  Carter doesn’t wait for him to say kiss. By the time the officiant says the word, I’m already in Carter’s arms with his mouth on mine. His lips move against me, promising even more than his vows did, and I kiss him back with just as many promises.

  We did it. Well, we’re already doing it since we’re technically—legally—already married, but we did it again! I just hope we don’t have to keep having wedding ceremonies and proposals because I’m kinda over the public displays. But as Carter lets me go and we smile at our family and friends, I realize . . . this isn’t that bad. Not nearly as painful as a school field trip tour, at least.

  “Woo-hoo!” I shout, holding our entwined hands up high.

  There are shocked faces at my outburst, but then everyone celebrates with us.

  “Congratulations!”

  “Make sure Luna doesn’t pass out again!”

  “So happy for y’all!”

  “Nutbuster, get your ass over here!”

  That last one is Kyle, who’s pulling on Peanut Butter’s leash as the dog tries to make an escape for the barn. I guess he’s hoping to see a particular horse again. He and Ed were good buddies when Peanut Butter visited before, plus the dog knows where the oat cookies are in the barn. Together, he’s made up his mind on where he wants to be and even Kyle isn’t going to hold him back.

  “It’s okay, let the mangy mutt run. I’ll take him to the barn and meet y’all up at the house.” Bernard sounds almost . . . happy? Almost as if he realizes it, he adds, “It’ll keep him from tearing up my petunias or pissing on Rosalia.”

  “Rosalia?” Kyle echoes in confusion, but Carter and I just laugh.

  “Long story,” I offer.

  Inside, Elena has the formal dining table expanded to its maximum capacity, and we all sit down. Carter’s at the head of the table, an honor Elena said she would be delighted to extend to him, and I’m on his right.

  “I’d like to thank each of you,” Carter says, raising his wine for a toast. “Somehow, you each played a part in getting Luna and me here today, and it’s exactly where we both belong. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  We sip, and that begins a round of toasts from almost everyone. Except me. I’ve had enough time in the spotlight today.

  When Elena stands, holding her glass up, she’s more serious than I expect on such a joyous occasion. I would think her toasts would include limericks and creative cursing, but rather, she says, “I lost the most important person in my life and was going through the motions of life. Until a charming young man and a passionate young lady showed up on my doorstep for dinner. And that changed everything. Now, I have an entirely new family.”

  She looks around the table at each of us, pausing on Stanley. They’re good now too, having worked out their feelings about Claire’s manipulations. For her part, Claire’s been keeping her distance, probably biding her time, but Elena and Carter will figure it out if she pops up like a weed again. And she’s held up her end of the bargain, letting Elena see Jacob regularly as long as those allowances keep coming.

  “If I may,” a polite voice says, interrupting but trying to be polite about it. We turn our eyes to the young chef in a black apron. “Your first course is crab-stuffed mushroom caps with a black pepper cream sauce reduction. Enjoy.”

  The chef bows lightly and leaves us to taste the delicious course he’s prepared. He’s sort of connected too, the infamous restauranteur from Cameron’s upcoming venture capital deal. The restaurant is scheduled to open in mere weeks, but the chef said cooking tonight so that Nelda could simply be a guest would be his pleasure. I think that’s at Cam’s request, as a happy send-off for Carter leaving Blue Lake.

  And as I taste the mushroom cap, I’m so glad.

  “Uhmagawd, thish is ahg-some,” I mumble with my mouth full.

  “Not nearly as awesome as you are, wife,” Carter says, leaning over and placing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. I feel his tongue flick over my skin there and realize I must’ve had a dab of sauce on my lip. Rather than feel embarrassed, I consider painting myself in the stuff so Carter will kiss and lick me all over.

  My dirty thoughts must be written all over my face because Carter smirks, raising one brow. “Whatever you’re thinking . . . yes.”

  Later, in the same bed in the same guest room from our first night together at Elena’s house, I don’t need any help with kitchen-made cream. I’ve got plenty for Carter and he’s got plenty for me.

  There is one difference from last time, though.

  “Shh,” Carter hisses quietly in my ear. “Don’t let anyone hear you. Those are my noises. No one gets those from you but me.”

  He’s behind me, my butt lifted high in the air and my chest pressed to the bed. But to whisper in my ear, he leans over me, his front to my back, and I feel caged in the best, sexiest way.

  “Ah!” I fight to stay quiet and resort to covering my mouth with my own hand as Carter rolls his hips, driving me wild with his slow thrusts. His fingers grip my hips, digging in. I bet I’ll have little pink and purple marks tomorrow when we go on our honeymoon. Carter probably wants it that way considering he’s already told me how sexy my tiny bikini is on my whiplash curves.

  “Good girl. Can you be quiet when you come?”

  I can’t risk speaking, so I nod my head furiously, not caring that the pillow is probably knotting my hair. Carter grunts and pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty without him. He guides me to flip over, pulling my legs over his shoulders so he can get deeper.

  “I want to see you.”

  Carter resumes his punishing pace, slowly rolling his hips until he hits a spot deep inside me that borders on being too much. I feel like I can’t breathe with him so far inside me, like he’s literally forcing the air out of my lungs.

  But I don’t need oxygen. I need Carter.

  When I fall apart, I keep my eyes locked on his. The blue orbs promise a future I can’t wait to experience. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Luna.” Carter grits out my name as he comes, and his eyes flutter, but he forces them to stay open, pinning me in place with his gaze.

  I never would’ve thought it could be like this. With anyone, but certainly not with Carter Harrington, my brother’s best friend. My husband. But I’m so glad someone wise told me to never say never because you might end up regretting those words.

  EPILOGUE

  CARTER

  The museum is abuzz tonight with people coming in from all over the world for this exhibition opening. The pieces contained in it are special, some not being seen for decades.

  Together, the women in charge of tonight walk to the podium. Elena and Luna stand together, holding hands as Maeve introduces the lineup.

  “To my left, I’d like to introduce Dr. Alice Standford. She’s been integral in curating the pieces you’ll have the opportunity to see tonight,” she says, indicating the woman in a suit.

  “To my right is Luna Harrington. This exhibition is a passion project for her, one she designed with Thomas Cartwright’s heart in mind. Next to her is Mrs. Elena Cartwright, whose generous loan of Mr. Cartwright’s collection made this exhibit possible.”

  Yeah, Luna isn’t in charge of the overall exhibit, but she’s not upset about it. Rather, she’s been excited to learn about how to curate, design, and see an exhibition from concept to completion. Dr. Standford has been more than willing to teach Luna too, and they’ve developed a mutual respect for one another.

  Luna’s still hopeful Alphena takes off and becomes a major graphic novel, or even an anime show, but she’s quite happy bouncing between both sides of her art love—digital to paintings, and back again.

  The four women move to a ceremonial ribbon set up on the stage, with Maeve as the museum director and Elena as the donor getting center placement. Together, they cut the ribbon with huge gold-plated scissors, officially opening the Thomas Cartwright Collection exhibition.

  Inside, Luna leads me through the pieces. I still have no idea what she’s talking about most of the time, not able to tell a Rembrandt from a Renoir, but I happily listen to her chatter away about the thing she loves most—art.

  Well, other than me.

  I hum agreeably as she dissects the subtle nuances between someone’s darker period of painting, having already lost the thread of who she’s talking about because all I can focus on is her. She’s in her element here, with people coming up to shake her hand and ask her thoughts on different pieces. There are no nerves, no scripts, just Luna and her heart, and it shines for everyone to see. What seems like hours later, we walk around a final corner in the exhibition, and Luna gasps.

  She’s seen my surprise. Maeve and Dr. Standford helped me place it after Elena insisted it be included, at least for tonight’s opening.

  “That’s . . . it can’t be . . . that’s me!” Luna whispers in shock as it sinks in that the woman on the wall is indeed her.

  In the portrait, her glasses have slid down her nose as she stares at a sketchbook in her lap, nibbling her bottom lip. She’s curled up on the couch, wearing a bra and shorts that accentuate her curves and socks that slouch above her ankles. The light from the window makes her glow, something I don’t know how he captured. Then again, if he can capture Luna so perfectly, sunlight must be easy.

  “I had it commissioned,” I explain. “Eakin has been working on it for months, going off a picture I sent of you.”

  The piece is large, at least four feet wide, and shows a pencil sketch in the same style as the one Luna loves in Elena’s foyer. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself, though I might be biased because of the subject matter.

  “Oh, my God, thank you!” Luna’s crying, her hands covering half her face, but I can see the smile in her teary eyes. “It’s amazing. He made me beautiful.”

  I frown in confusion. “This looks exactly like you, photorealism from an actual picture I took,” I repeat. “This is what you look like. Beautiful.”

  And she is. Inside and out.

  Luna is my beautiful, passionate, smart, neurotic weirdo of a wife. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because I’m the lucky bastard who gets to be her husband.

  “Once we get home, I think you need a reminder of just how gorgeous you are,” I promise in her ear. “I think I’ll fuck you in front of the mirror, make you watch how your sexy tits drop into my waiting hands, how your ass bounces when I slam into you, and how gorgeous you are when your mouth’s open, panting through your climax. You’ll see how you drive me wild with that tight pussy of yours and your filthy mouth that only I get to hear.”

  Fuck, I’m trying to dirty talk her into feeling beautiful, but I’ve talked myself into an uncomfortable situation in my slacks. Not caring who sees when I’m standing with my wife in front of an equally sexy drawing of her, I adjust my rock-hard cock.

  Luna smiles, shyly dipping her chin so I won’t see how much she likes my words. “Again? We just did it before the opening.”