Faye laughed nervously.
Clearly overwhelmed.
Clearly happy.
The kind of happiness people spent years searching for.
The ceremony unfolded beautifully.
There were games.
Chaos.
Laughter.
Quentin’s side battling through wedding traditions.
Faye’s side refusing to surrender easily.
Eventually Quentin succeeded.
Naturally.
Because giving up had never been part of his personality.
Later, as music swelled throughout the venue, Raina sat quietly among the guests.
Watching.
Listening.
Remembering.
Quentin stood at the altar.
Faye beside him.
Both smiling.
Both certain.
The sight tugged unexpectedly at something buried deep inside her.
Her own marriage flashed briefly through her mind.
No aisle.
No celebration.
No flowers.
No cheering family.
Just signatures.
Documents.
