Safe With You

A Surpise Worth Dressing Up For

~ Alyssa ~

When Savannah Riley says formal dress code, she doesn’t ask — she commands.

The call came at exactly 7 a.m.

“Evening wear, Alyssa. Elegant. No excuses.”

Then she hung up before I could even ask why.

That was my first red flag.

The second came a few hours later when she offered — no, insisted — to take all three girls for the afternoon.

Because Savannah never voluntarily wrangles two seven-year-olds and a three-month-old unless she’s plotting something monumental.

By the time Greyson wanders downstairs, I’m pacing the living room in my robe, half curling my hair, half glaring at my phone for ignoring me.

“You think she’s planning a dinner?” I ask. “Or the royal wedding?”

He looks infuriatingly calm — crisp white shirt open at the collar, black trousers, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the faintest trace of aftershave that should be illegal

“Knowing Mum?” he says, smirking. “Something in between. Possibly televised.”

I’m halfway through rolling my eyes when I zip up my ivory satin dress. It drapes beautifully, slit to the knee, the thin straps showing off the soft swirl of my tattoos — delicate black-and-grey flowers climbing my shoulder, a line of script curling over my ribs.

Greyson freezes mid-step.

Then whistles low. “You’re going to ruin everyone else’s night.”

I arch a brow. “Focus, Riley. We’re late for whatever chaos your mother’s brewing.”

He grins, slipping his jacket on. “I’ll drive. But if there’s karaoke, I’m blaming you.”

~ Greyson ~

The sound of laughter hits before we even open the front door.

Not polite dinner-party laughter — wild laughter.

The kind that means there’s champagne involved.

Alyssa glances at me, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not dinner-party energy.”

“Maybe it’s… a lively one?” I offer, already wincing.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she mutters.

And then we step inside.

The foyer glows under strings of fairy lights. Gold streamers drape from the bannister. A cascade of white roses frames the archway.

And hanging above it, in bold glittering letters:

CONGRATULATIONS, FUTURE MRS RILEY!

Alyssa stops dead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Everyone’s there.

Triston, Kelsi, and Bailey.

Markus and Elle — already holding glasses of prosecco.

Lillian in a sparkly mini dress.

Mum, Dad, Winston, even Melissa.

And front and centre, Quinn and Poppy holding a glitter-covered sign that reads:

‘Mummy & Daddy Are Getting Married!’

Savannah beams, baby Hope perched on her hip wearing a tutu roughly the size of her entire body.

Alyssa covers her face, half laughing, half crying. “You absolute maniacs.”

“Surprise, darling!” Savannah cries, sweeping forward to hug her. “You didn’t think we’d not celebrate the engagement properly?”

Charlie, tall and grinning beside her, claps me on the shoulder. “Son, this was long overdue. Well done.”

“I didn’t plan this,” I protest.

“Exactly,” he says, smirking. “That’s why it worked.”

~ Alyssa ~

If heaven had a Pinterest board, it would look like Savannah Riley’s back garden tonight.

Fairy lights loop between the trees, candles flicker in glass jars, and silk ribbons ripple in the soft evening breeze.

The air smells of jasmine, champagne, and barbecue smoke — a chaotic but somehow perfect mix.

Elle flounces toward me, curls bouncing, heels too high for grass, a glass of prosecco in one hand.

“Before you scold me,” she says, “yes, I helped. You’re welcome.”

“This looks like something out of Vogue’s fever dream,” I tell her, still spinning in awe.

“You deserve it,” she insists.

Kelsi joins in, laughing. “Savannah handled the décor, Elle handled the chaos, and I handled the playlist.”

From the drinks table, Winston raises a glass. “And I handled the bar. Which, by the way, deserves its own round of applause.”

I laugh, shaking my head as Greyson wraps an arm around my waist.

The whole garden hums — voices overlapping, music drifting, the sound of family.

Triston’s dramatically retelling the poker-night break-in story to Markus, except now he claims he “heroically tackled” Mark solo.

Lillian’s trying to convince Savannah to let her design the bridesmaids’ dresses (“You owe me this for being your favourite child”).

Charlie is teaching Poppy how to swipe hors d’oeuvres unnoticed.

It’s loud, ridiculous, and utterly perfect.

~ Greyson ~

I lean against the patio railing, watching her.

Alyssa’s standing under the fairy lights, laughing with Kelsi, her curls catching gold in the glow.

For a moment, it hits me — how far she’s come from the woman who once hid behind boardroom walls and careful smiles.

Mum appears beside me, handing me a glass of wine.

“You did good, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t plan this,” I admit.

She smiles knowingly. “You gave her that smile — the one she thought she’d forgotten. That’s better than any plan.”

Dad joins us, arm around her waist. “You’ve outkicked your coverage, son.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I deadpan.

“That’s a compliment,” he insists, laughing. “She’s something special.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly, watching her across the garden. “She really is.”

Dinner turns into champagne toasts and laughter that won’t stop.

Bailey stands on a chair to toast us with apple juice and immediately spills it on Markus.

“Symbolic baptism!” Winston declares, clapping him on the back.

Kelsi makes a heartfelt speech that turns halfway through into roasting me for taking “forever” to propose.

Lillian tears up halfway through hers, then claims it’s just “pollen.”

Even Triston raises a glass, smiling proudly. “To my sister — who finally found someone who can keep up with her crazy.”

Alyssa wipes a tear, laughing. “I’ll drink to that.”

~ Alyssa ~

I’ve never seen anything like it.

The tables shimmer under lantern light, soft music playing, and laughter spilling into the night air.

Hope sleeps peacefully in her stroller nearby, little hands twitching in dreams.

Everywhere I look, someone’s smiling.

Elle is dancing barefoot with Lillian.

Charlie and Savannah are slow-dancing like teenagers.

Winston’s teaching Bailey how to “professionally” toast with orange juice.

Greyson finds me, slipping his hand into mine.

“Come outside with me,” he murmurs.

“Why do you sound suspiciously charming?”

“Because I am,” he says, leading me to the open space under the lights.

Everyone starts to quiet down, instinctively sensing something’s about to happen.

“Winston,” Greyson calls. “Play it.”

The first haunting notes of Drown by Bring Me The Horizon echo softly across the garden.

My breath catches.

“You remembered.”

“Your favourite song,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. “Always will be.”

We sway slowly, the world melting into the music.

The lyrics — Who will fix me now? Dive in when I’m down? — wrap around us like a heartbeat.

He tightens his arms around me. “You don’t have to drown anymore,” he murmurs.

I don’t realise I’m crying until he wipes the tears away with his thumb.

When the song ends, the garden erupts in applause — loud, emotional, beautiful.

Elle’s openly sobbing.

Kelsi’s fanning her face, mascara running.

Winston mutters something about “allergies.”

Even Charlie’s blinking suspiciously fast, mumbling, “That’s my boy.”

Savannah’s crying and laughing at once, whispering to Hope, “See, darling? That’s what love looks like.”

.

~ Winston ~

Watching them dance feels like the world finally righted itself.

I nudge Elle. “You picked the song?”

She nods, wiping her eyes. “He said, ‘Find something that’s her.’ It was the easiest decision ever.”

“Good call, unofficial girlfriend of the year,” I tease.

She smacks my arm, her cheeks flushed. “Shut up before I cry again.”

“Too late,” I grin, passing her my handkerchief.

She takes it, smiling softly. “They really are perfect, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” I say, watching Greyson spin Alyssa under the lights. “Disgustingly so.”

~ Alyssa ~

Later, the music shifts from emotional to chaotic.

Hope sleeps soundly in Savannah’s arms while Quinn and Poppy dance barefoot on the grass, twirling until they collapse in giggles.

Triston and Kelsi grab the karaoke mic and m******e a duet of Don’t Stop Believin’.

Markus films the whole thing, cackling.

Lillian’s teaching Charlie a t****k dance that looks more like a medical emergency.

Greyson slides his arm around my waist, voice low against my ear.

“Worth dressing up for?”

I smile, leaning into him. “Fine. Your mother wins.”

He laughs, brushing his thumb over my engagement ring — the diamond catching the light like starlight.

“Still can’t believe you said yes,” he murmurs.

“Still can’t believe you asked.”

He grins. “Guess we’re both surprised.”

The laughter around us fades into background music — a hum of joy and life that wraps around us like warmth.

For a long moment, I just breathe it in.

The glow of fairy lights. The faint scent of flowers. The muffled sound of Drown playing again from someone’s phone.

Home.

Family.

Love.

I look up at him — my partner, my calm, my chaos — and smile.

“I think,” I whisper, “this might be the first time in my life I don’t want to change a single thing.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Good. Because I’m never letting you.”

We stay like that — in the middle of the noise and the laughter and the life we built from the ruins — until Hope stirs softly, and the world exhales with us.

And as Bring Me The Horizon and a mix of all my favourite bands play softly through the night, I finally understand what Savannah meant when she said “evening wear, elegant, no excuses.”

Because some nights are made for memories —

and this one?

This one is ours.