The Billionaire’s Accidental Wife

Chapter 17: The Church Wedding

2 months later.

20 weeks pregnant.

The church smelled like lilies.

And rain.

I stood in the back room.

White dress. Simple. Lace.

No diamonds. Except the one on my finger.

Selena knocked. "5 minutes, Mrs. Cole."

"Almost," I whispered.

The door opened.

Damien.

In a tux. Hair perfect.

But his eyes? Nervous.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said.

He walked in. Closed the door.

"You look—" he stopped. "You look like mine."

"I am," I said, smiling. "I’ve been yours."

He came closer. Took my hands.

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," I admitted. "Of tripping. Of crying. Of—"

"Of me?" he asked softly.

"No," I said. "Never of you."

He nodded. Kissed my knuckles.

"Good. Because I’m terrified too."

"Of what?"

"Of messing this up," he said. "Of not being the husband you deserve."

I stepped closer. Bump between us.

"You already are," I said. "Every day."

He exhaled. Like he’d been holding his breath.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," I whispered back.

The doors opened. Music started.

---

The walk down the aisle was a blur.

White chairs. 50 people.

No press. No cameras.

Just us.

My hand in his dad’s old friend’s arm.

Damien at the altar.

Waiting.

When I reached him, he took my hand.

Didn’t let go.

The priest started talking.

I didn’t hear half of it.

Because Damien was looking at me like I was the only person in the room.

"Do you, Damien Cole, take Ava—"

"I do," he said before the priest finished.

Gasps. Laughter.

The priest smiled. "Do you, Ava Cole, take Damien—"

"I do," I said. Same thing.

More laughter.

"Then by the power vested in me—"

"Kiss her," someone in the back yelled.

Damien grinned.

Pulled me in.

And kissed me.

In front of God.

In front of everyone.

Like a promise.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest said.

"We already did," Damien said into the mic.

The church erupted.

---

Reception was in the garden.

Behind the church.

String lights. Long tables.

No billionaires. No board.

Just friends. Selena. The nurses. The artists from my old studio.

Damien gave a speech.

He stood up. Glass in hand.

Nervous. Again.

"Hi," he said. "I’m Damien Cole. And 6 months ago I married this woman in Vegas because I was an idiot."

Laughter.

"I thought I was buying a wife," he said. "Turns out, she saved me."

He looked at me.

"Ava taught me how to be a man. How to be a dad. How to love."

He raised his glass.

"To my wife. To Cole. To us."

Everyone cheered.

Then it was my turn.

I stood up. Shaking.

"Hi," I said. "I’m Ava. And I thought I was marrying a billionaire."

"I am," I laughed. "But I’m also marrying the man who burns pancakes.

Who talks to our son every night. Who chose me in a boardroom."

I looked at him.

"So to my husband. Thank you for choosing me too."

He stood. Walked to me.

Kissed me in front of everyone. Again.

---

Later, we danced.

Just us.

In the middle of the garden.

No music. We hummed.

His hands on my back.

Mine on his chest.

Bump between us.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Perfect," I said. "Are you?"

"I’m home," he said. "With you."

We swayed.

No cameras. No drama.

Just us.

---

That night, we didn’t go to a hotel.

We went home.

Our penthouse.

But different.

Flowers everywhere.

Photos on the wall.

My paintings. His terrible stick figures.

Damien carried me over the threshold.

"Put me down," I laughed. "I’m pregnant, not broken."

"You’re my wife," he said. "Let me do this."

He set me down gently.

Kissed me.

Slow.

"So," he said. "Mrs. Cole."

"Mr. Cole," I said back.

We ate cake in bed.

White dress on the floor.

Tux jacket thrown over a chair.

"Can I tell you something?" Damien said.

"What?"

"I’ve never been happier," he said. "Not with the company. Not with the money.

With this. With you."

I leaned on him.

"Me too," I said. "I’ve never felt safe like this."

He pulled me closer.

"You are safe," he said. "I swear it."

---

At midnight, we got a text.

Selena: "Vivienne pled guilty. 3 years. No appeals."

Damien: "Good."

Me: "Good."

We didn’t talk about it more.

Because she didn’t matter anymore.

What mattered was here.

In this bed.

In this moment.

Damien’s hand on my stomach.

"Cole," he whispered. "Your mom and I got married today."

"He knows," I said. "He’s kicking."

Damien smiled.

"Hey buddy," he said. "Can’t wait to meet you."

He looked at me.

"Can’t wait to meet you as Dad."

I started crying.

"Hey," he said, panicked. "Happy tears?"

"The happiest," I said.

He wiped them away.

"I love you, Ava Cole."

"I love you too, Damien Cole."

---

We fell asleep like that.

His arms around me.

My head on his chest.

Cole between us.

No board. No Vivienne. No scandal.

Just a husband.

A wife.

And a baby on the way.

And for the first time since Vegas,

I knew we were going to be okay.

Because we had each other.

And that was enough.