Everyone rises to their feet.
Simone appears at the opposite end of the aisle with Malcolm by her side.
I go still. My pulse pounds in my ears.
She looks fucking gorgeous.
As irritated as I am by this entire situation, I simply can’t deny what I see with my own eyes—Simone Langston is one of the most beautiful women on earth.
No doubt about it. And dressed up as a bride? It’s almost unreal.
Her makeup is subtle, proving she hardly needs any. Just a dash of lip color and blush and mascara women wear, and she’s a fucking sight to behold.
Her brown skin glows against the pure ivory of her gown. Loose dark curls cascade over her shoulders, framing her face. The dress is off-the-shoulder lace with a feminine silhouette and a corset-style bodice that hugs her breasts and the rest of her curves. The sweetheart neckline shows off her décolletage and collarbones.
Her train is long and chapel length, trailing behind her like a princess out of a fairytale.
She meets my eyes from a distance as her father walks her down the aisle, the organ music swelling. I find myself unable to look away as she grows closer, each step bringing her nearer.
It finally hits me.
This is it. This is my wife for the rest of my life.
We don’t do divorce in my family, and judging by how long her parents have been married, it seems the Langstons don’t either.
When she reaches the altar, Malcolm passes her hand to mine. His grip is firm, his dark eyes warning me without words. Then he takes his seat.
Everything feels surreal. I’m aware of the priest starting to officiate, his gentle voice welcoming everyone in attendance to witness the blessed union between Ronan Callahan and Simone Langston.
Time blurs, and I damn near black out.
I only come to when I realize my lips are moving. I’m answering the timeless question I’ve been asked.
“Ronan,” says the priest. “Do you take Simone to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
Simone looks me in the eye as she’s asked the same question. She doesn’t blink or even hesitate.
“I do.”
We slide rings onto each other’s fingers—mine a simple platinum band, hers a delicate ring with tiny emeralds and diamonds that pair well with her engagement ring.
The priest raises his hands. “By the power vested in me by the state of New York, and in the presence of God, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He pauses, a smile breaking across his face. “You may kiss the bride.”
The room erupts into raucous applause, everyone jumping to their feet.
I curl an arm around her waist and bring her up against me, the two of us still peering into each other’s eyes.
Simone looks startled. Completely shocked, like she can’t believe what’s just happened.
I bow my head and press my lips to hers.
They’re as soft and pillowy as they’ve looked.
…as I’ve already begun to imagine.
She goes still in my arms as if she’s waiting to wake up from a dream. But no relief comes as our lips touch and we seal the deal that’s been made between our families.