She screamed herself hoarse in the stands.
Met half the team after.
I won’t lie—I wasn’t thrilled about that part. Watching professional athletes hug my now wife tested my patience in ways I’m not proud of.
But she was happy.
And one thing I know for sure?
I’ll do anything she wants just to see her smile like that.
Because her happiness isn’t separate from mine anymore.
It is mine.
We end the kiss slowly and she rests her head against my chest, right over my heart.
“Everything feels different,” she says softly.
“It is,” I answer.
“How?”
I think about that for a second.
The crash.
The darkness.
The moment I thought I might not make it back to her.
“It’s permanent,” I say finally. “That’s what’s different.”
She tilts her head back to look at me.
“You weren’t going anywhere before.”
I smile slowly.
“Now neither are you.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “Are you threatening me on our wedding night?”
“Absolutely.”
She laughs again and presses a kiss to my chest.
The music shifts to something slower.
The crowd cheers somewhere behind us.
Bella whistles obnoxiously.
I ignore them all.
Because this—right here—is the only stage I care about anymore.
Hilary is my heart now.