Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Damian

The morning of the wedding arrived with a sky so blue it looked deliberate, as though even the weather had decided to cooperate for once.

I stood on the balcony of the beach house we’d rented for the week, watching workers assemble white chairs in neat rows along the sand below. Lily’s flowers had arrived at dawn, exactly as promised, and somewhere inside the house, chaos had already erupted over hair pins and last-minute alterations.

Mason found me there, two cups of coffee in hand, offering one without a word.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“No.”

“Liar.”

I allowed myself a small smile. “Maybe slightly.”

“That’s allowed. It’s your wedding.”

“Second wedding.”

“Third, if you count the courthouse and this properly,” Mason said. “Either way, nerves are permitted.”

I looked out over the water, thinking of everything that had led here. The scandal. The fake marriage neither of us had believed would last. Richard’s schemes, Victoria’s slow thaw, Vanessa’s sharp comments that had stopped mattering months ago. All of it had somehow arrived at this exact moment, steady and certain in a way I never could have predicted a year earlier.

“She make you nervous?” Mason asked. “Harper?”

“Every day.”

“Good kind of nervous?”

“The only kind that matters.”

Mason smiled, clapping a hand against my shoulder. “Then I’d say you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Harper

The dress fit perfectly, simple and ivory, nothing like the elaborate designs Victoria’s magazine had once suggested. Sofia adjusted the small train behind me, muttering under her breath about how she’d been right about keeping it short.

“You look beautiful,” my mother said, voice already thick with tears she wasn’t bothering to hide.

“Mom, don’t cry yet. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

“I don’t care about my makeup.” Evelyn reached for my hands, squeezing them tightly. “I never thought I’d see you this happy. Not after everything.”

“Neither did I.”

“He’s good to you?”

“He’s everything, Mom.”

Evelyn’s eyes filled further, and this time I let her cry without protest, my own throat tightening in response. Years of watching her carry bitterness and grief over the Blackwood name, and somehow it had led here, to me marrying one of them by choice instead of circumstance, surrounded by love instead of scandal.

Lily burst into the room moments later, flower basket in hand, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Is it time? Is it time yet?”

“Almost, baby.”

“I already told the unicorn it has to wait outside.”

Sofia choked on her water. “There’s an actual unicorn?”

“It’s a pony with a horn glued on,” Lily said, matter-of-fact. “Dad said no real unicorns exist, but I found a compromise.”

I laughed, pulling her into a careful hug, mindful of both our outfits. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“I know.”

The humility clearly hadn’t developed yet, but I loved her too much to mind.

A knock sounded at the door, and Victoria appeared, elegant in pale blue, something softer in her expression than I’d grown used to seeing.

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

She stepped inside, studying me for a long moment. “You look lovely, Harper.”

“Thank you.”

“I wanted to give you something. Before the ceremony.” She produced a small velvet box, offering it carefully. “It belonged to our mother. Damian’s and mine. I think she would have wanted you to have it.”

I opened the box slowly, finding a delicate silver bracelet inside, simple and elegant, clearly decades old.

“Victoria, I can’t—”

“You can,” she interrupted gently. “You’ve made my brother happier than I’ve seen him in years. That matters more to me than old grudges about propriety and money.”

Something shifted between us in that moment, quiet but significant, the beginning of something that might one day resemble real family.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Victoria said, composure slipping back into place. “I still expect to be seated somewhere better than ‘the boring table.’”

I laughed, the tension breaking completely. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Damian

Harper walked toward me along the sand exactly as the sun began lowering toward the horizon, and every rehearsed thought I’d prepared disappeared entirely the moment I saw her.

She looked luminous, ivory fabric catching the golden light, her mother crying openly in the front row exactly as promised. Lily walked ahead of her, scattering flower petals with far too much enthusiasm, grinning at me the entire way down the aisle like she’d personally orchestrated the whole event.

Maybe, in some ways, she had.

When Harper finally reached me, I reached for her hands, unable to look away from her even for a moment.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.”

“You’re staring.”

“I intend to keep doing that for the rest of my life.”

Her breath caught, that same familiar reaction I’d grown to love completely, and the officiant began the ceremony while neither of us looked anywhere except at each other.

The vows we exchanged weren’t elaborate. We’d written them ourselves, simple and honest, nothing like the practiced words from the courthouse months earlier. I spoke about patience, about learning that love wasn’t weakness but the only thing that had ever truly made me stronger. Harper spoke about revenge turning quietly into something entirely different, about finding a family she never expected in the last place she’d looked for one.

By the time we exchanged rings, Evelyn’s crying had turned into full sobbing, joined enthusiastically by Sofia, and even Victoria dabbed carefully at her eyes despite clearly trying not to.

“You may kiss the bride.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss lasted longer than strictly appropriate for the setting, applause and laughter rising around us, Lily’s voice cutting cheerfully through the noise.

“FINALLY!”

Harper laughed against my mouth, pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against mine. “Ready?”

“Completely,” I said. “Are you?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

The reception that followed passed in a blur of dancing and laughter, Richard notably absent despite an invitation extended out of obligation rather than hope. His absence, surprisingly, cost the evening nothing. If anything, it felt lighter without him.

Later, once the crowd had thinned and the band played something slow, Harper and I found ourselves back on the same stretch of sand where this had all technically begun months earlier.

“Feels different this time,” she said quietly. “Being here.”

“Better?”

“So much better.”

I pulled her closer, watching the waves roll steadily against the shore under a sky full of stars. “No more waiting.”

“No more waiting,” she agreed. “Just this. Just us.”

“Forever,” I said.

Harper smiled, resting her head against my chest, the ocean breeze moving gently around us. “Forever,” she echoed.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, forever didn’t feel like a burden or an obligation.

It felt exactly like home.