Chapter 3

Alyssa

"Hurry up, bitch. We're ready to see it!" Chelsea hollers from the other side of the curtain.

"Yeah. Hurry up!" Ashley chimes in, her words slurred just enough to betray the endless flow of champagne they've been knocking back out there.

I roll my eyes, biting back a grin.

God, they sound like sorority girls at a frat party instead of grown women at a fancy boutique.

"Give me a second!" I shout back, laughing as Sara tugs at the zipper. "She has to finish getting me in this thing first."

My pulse kicks a little faster as the bodice tightens around me.

This is really happening.

For a second, the noise from the salon fades—Ashley's drunken heckling, Chelsea's impatient squeals, even Sara fussing with the zipper. All I hear is my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Me.

In a fucking wedding dress.

In three weeks, I'll be marrying the men of my dreams. The men who destroyed everything ugly in my life and turned it into something worth breathing for.

Though legally, King's already my husband—thanks to the paperwork we rushed through the second Isaac was declared legally dead. My previous husband. The monster who tried to own me, break me, kill me.

All because his deranged pedo father told him to.

But that's over now. They're both gone—burning in hell where they belong.

And me? I'm still here. Living. Flourishing. Standing in a wedding dress with my whole future stretched wide open in front of me.

"There we go," Sara says, her voice smug with accomplishment. "It fits perfectly. I wasn't sure it would when you insisted on a whole size down."

I smile to myself.

It wasn't easy, but I was determined. Four months after having twins, and I refused to let this dress become a mirror of my stretch marks, sleepless nights, or the baby weight that refused to pack its bags and fucking leave.

I watched what I ate. I breastfed and pumped around the clock. I pushed myself harder than I probably should've.

But it worked.

Now the dress hugs every curve like a second skin.

Perfect.

Exactly like I promised myself it would be.

I take a deep breath and step into the bridal salon.

Ashley, Chelsea, Nina, and Carol all look up at once—and their faces light up instantly.

"Holy shit! You look hot!" Ashley blurts, nearly spilling her wine.

"Oh my gosh, Alyssa!" Chelsea gushes, her grin stretching ear to ear. "You look like a fucking queen!"

Nina's eyes shine with tears she doesn't bother to blink away. "Oh, honey. You look beautiful."

Carol presses a hand to her chest, her smile soft but playful. "That dress is stunning on you, sweetheart. You look like the happiest bride I've ever seen... though if I know the boys, none of them are gonna let you keep that on for long."

The room erupts in laughter, their voices bouncing off the mirrored walls.

I step onto the pedestal, the overhead light spilling down like a spotlight as I catch the first full view of the dress since I bought it.

And for a second, the air just leaves my lungs.

Holy shit.

The dress is gorgeous—elegant with teeth.

Off-white, like cream poured over skin. Off-the-shoulder sleeves bare my collarbones, and the plunge is indecent in the best way, carving a deep V that does sinful things to my cleavage.

The skirt floats in layers of sparkling tulle threaded with embroidered Venise lace—floral vines climbing in and out of light—and every petal is kissed with beads that sparkle like tiny stars. The bodice nips my waist, smooth and precise, before the fabric spills out into a full cathedral train that trails behind me like a shimmering river.

Tears immediately spring to my eyes.

I wish Mom were here to see me in this.

The dress I wore with Isaac doesn't even compare. Back then, I let Corinne—my mother-in-law at the time—call the shots. The flowers, the music, the vows.

Even the dress.

Conservative. Safe. Chosen to make me look less like a bride and more like a prop in their fucked-up fantasy.

This time, the guys have let me take charge of everything that matters.

As long as I end up at the altar with them, they don't give a damn if the flowers are white roses or plastic daisies, or if the band plays love songs or heavy metal.

It's mine. All of it.

My choices, my voice, my day.

Sara settles the tiara on my head, completing the whole princess look—though everyone in this room knows I'm more likely to rule a kingdom with a loaded gun than a glass slipper.

The room goes quiet for a beat, like they're all taking me in at once. Then Ashley lets out a low whistle, sharp enough to make heat crawl up my neck.

"Okay, that's it," she declares, raising her glass. "Fairy-tale bitch unlocked."

Chelsea claps, practically bouncing in her seat. "I swear to God, King, Niko, and Mason are going to lose their fucking minds when they see you like this."

I can't help smirking at my reflection.

Damn right they will.

And I know I'll be doing the same the second I see them in tuxes.

My men live in biker cuts and loungewear—well, except Mason with his never-ending supply of button-downs—so I can't even imagine what it'll feel like seeing all of them suited up, standing at the altar, waiting for me.

Thankfully, all of them got snipped, so I don't have to worry about ending up knocked up again when we inevitably spend every waking minute fucking through our week-long honeymoon—wherever the hell that's supposed to be.

They won't tell me.

Won't even give me a hint.

And yeah, it's driving me crazy not knowing—but it's the good kind. Equal parts nervous and excited, like standing in line for the biggest, scariest rollercoaster and knowing you're about to love every second of the ride.

Nina dabs at her eyes with a tissue, shaking her head like she can't believe she's crying again. "God, you've been through so much, Aly. You deserve every ounce of this happiness."

Her words hit harder than I expect.

My throat tightens, and for a second I have to look away from the mirror.

Because she's right.

After marrying Isaac, I never thought I'd ever know what happiness actually felt like.

What love really meant.

What it was like to have a happily ever after that wasn't a lie, but something real—something written just for me.

And now?

All I can think about is the future waiting for me.

There's still so much to do, so much shit to throw together—but for once, I'm not overwhelmed.

I've got a whole damn army in my corner, just as eager to see this day happen as I am.

And I'll be damned if I let anyone—and anything—fuck it up.

"Alyssa, your phone's vibrating," Chelsea announces, already snatching it off the table.

"Who is it?"

She smirks at the screen. "Niko."

I scramble to grab it before she can read whatever unhinged shit he's probably sent the group chat.

Ashley giggles, pouring another glass of champagne. "It's probably a dick pic. You know he hasn't seen you in a few hours."

Carol laughs. "Sounds about right. My Niko's always been a clingy one."

My face flames so hot I'm surprised the tiara doesn't melt right off my head.

I duck back into the dressing room, blocking out their laughter, and unlock my phone like I'm defusing a bomb.

Please don't be a dick pic.

I swipe the screen, bracing myself only to find a text that's somehow worse.

Sweet girl, I miss you. Been hard all day with the taste of ur pussy on my tongue.

My whole body goes hot, and not just from embarrassment.

It's the reminder of this morning.

Those rare moments when the girls are still asleep and King and Mason are already gone, he doesn't waste a single second. He wakes me up with his tongue buried in my pussy and by the time he's wrung two, sometimes three orgasms out of me, he's already flipping me over to fuck me into the mattress hard enough to make me forget my own name.

My lips tug into a grin I can't fight, even as my cheeks still burn. I text back something quick before the girls can barge in and ask about his message.

Me: Behave, Niko. I'm not trying to get wet in my wedding dress.

Niko: U wearing that right now? Fuck, baby. Give us a peek.

Me: Absolutely not. You can wait 20 more days.

Niko: C'monnn. It's not bad luck if we're already married.

Me: Nope. Nice try.

Niko: Fine. Then I'll just jerk off thinking about it.

Niko: And send you a video.

Me: I wouldn't. Your mom is here and she's asked plenty of questions about our sex life today.

Niko: Great. Now I'm soft and traumatized.

I giggle, covering my mouth to stifle the sound.

Me: I'll be home soon. I love you guys.

I stuff my phone into my bag before he, King, or Mason can respond, knowing damn well Niko will go right back to misbehaving if I keep talking to him.

"C'mon, sis," Ashley calls. "We want to see you try on some veils. You can have phone sex with Niko later."

Fuck. My. Life.

I roll my eyes, stepping out from behind the curtain as all four of them are grinning at me like sharks circling blood in the water.

But even with their teasing, the champagne, the tiara digging into my scalp, and Niko being the freaky cumslut he is, I can't stop smiling.

I love my men and I'm literally counting down the days until I get to walk down the aisle and claim them as mine all over again.

And nothing—and no one—will get in the way of that.