Apparently, that’s what everyone was waiting for.
Music starts back up almost immediately. Shadow cranks the volume high enough that the speakers protest. Chairs scrape against the floor. Conversations break out in every direction at once. Half the people surge towards the food while the other half make a beeline for the bar.
This is normal. The best kind of normal. I get up to head to the bar and grab another beer. I barely get two steps before Steel catches my shoulder.
“You okay?”
I nod. “More than. I guess I should thank you for bringing us together. Even if everything went to shit first.”
Steel glances past me towards Ami. Whatever expression crosses his face disappears so quickly I almost miss it.
“I always thought the two of you would be good together, I’m happy you made it work,” he says simply.
I follow his gaze.
Ami is laughing at something Harley just said. The sound carries across the room despite the music and the chaos and the dozen conversations happening at once.
He slaps my shoulder hard enough to rock me forward.
“Now get your drinks, head back to your wife, and go enjoy your damn party.”
“On it, Prez.”
Steel laughs and heads towards the bar.
I grab my beer and a wine cooler for Ami and make my way back to the table. Settling myself down, my eyes scan theroom. I barely remember our first wedding—seeing as I was facedown drunk for most of it—so I don’t want to forget a single moment of this one.
“Having fun?” she asks.
I smile at her, then wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. “Not as much fun as I’m planning on having later,” I say with a wink.
“You keep looking at me like that and we might have to sneak off somewhere for ten minutes,” she says.
“Only ten minutes?” I ask, mock offended.
“I know you can go all night, but I reckon the way everyone wants to congratulate us, ten minutes is all we can probably go AWOL for before they form a search party.”
As if summoned her words, Stephanie and Leena rock up and start fussing. Steph’s son, Ethan, tries to scramble onto Ami’s lap despite protestations from his mom about white dresses and chocolate covered fingers.
I watch her laughing with her sisters and realize that it might be my favorite thing in the world. To see her this relaxed and at ease again after everything she’s been through. Like she’s finally living instead of hiding away. Maybe because I know how much it cost her to get here and be back with her family.
Family isn’t always the one you’re born into. Sometimes it’s the people who refuse to let you stand alone. Sometimes it’s the brothers who drag you through hell. Sometimes it’s the woman who walks away, finds herself, and then somehow finds her way back to you.
And sometimes, if you’re luckier than you deserve to be, you get to keep all of them.
***
We managed to keep our hands off each other—save for a bit of fun in the supply closet—before we made our final escape . Then I was free to tear Ami’s wedding dress off of her. It’s currently sitting where it belongs. In a heap on the floor along with my suit.
“You never pressed me about getting the cover up done,” she whispers, and her voice is soft and tender. She might have put what happened behind her, but when she talks about it, her voice, her eyes, her heart—all of it brims over with emotion.
“Never.” My hand sweeps over her lower belly, where a beautiful flowing tattoo of roses and peonies, two sparrows, and a butterfly, scrolls over her delicate skin. “I will always love you exactly as you are.”
Ami’s hand trails down over my pecs, over my chest, lower, in its relentless pursuit. She purposely skims the worst of my scars, the ridged one that stands out in stark contrast to the rest of the smoother skin surrounding it. Her fingers linger, letting me know, in her silent way, that she more than accepts me exactly as I’ll always be, as I can’t erase the myriad of scars that dot the landscape of my body. I know she doesn’t see them when she looks at me. She just sees me.
I can’t contain a groan when she wraps her fingers around the base of my shaft.
“You’re insatiable,” I groan, like it’s a bad thing.