The aisle ran long, a river of white roses spilling from our feet to the altar.
Aaron's mouth hooked into a quiet, winning smile. "Truth is, I'm not greedy. The wedding? Don't care about it. Having you is enough."
I laughed. "Throwing a wedding together isn't easy." I looked up, following the crystal strands falling from the vault. "Flowers, band, three hundred guests, a three-star reception—all free? Why not use it?"
His smile held, but his eyes went a shade darker.
I stepped closer, dropped my voice half a notch. "As for you, Mr. Whitlock—" I lifted my eyes to his. "There's a car already waiting in the alley behind the church. Your tailored suit's in it, ready for you to change into. And you're telling me the wedding doesn't matter?"
Aaron's lashes flickered. Once. Like a pebble ski
