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Paul snickers, drawing my eye to him. When he sees me watching him, his expression sobers. Iris looks between us, then to me.
“Thomas,” she starts, then seems to change what she planned to say. “Allow me to introduce my husband, Paul Zakharov.” She puts a hand in his, and suddenly I can see it- love, unbroken between them even after all these years. Iris looks expectantly at me, and for the sake of my friendship with her, I can’t bear to do anything but smile.
I hold out my hand for Paul, and he hesitates for only a moment before taking it and exchanging a firm shake with me. “It’s been a long time, Paul,” I say, and force myself to add despite my uncertainty, “I’m glad to have you back with us.”
Paul smiles, and it makes his rugged face look younger by a decade. “Not as glad as I am, sir.”
I don’t think I’ve seen Iris beam so brightly in all my life.
I step away from them quickly. They have years of catching up to do. Besides, Derrick Lindman interrupted a conversation that I’d very much like to finish.
When I turn, Raleigh is already gone back into the house, bored now that the scene is over. But Clara is still at my side.
I’m staying with you. Always.
“You meant it,” I say.
She takes my hand in hers once again. Instead of just entwining our fingers, she presses my knuckles to her lips. Her brown eyes glow golden in the morning light.
“I’ve loved you all my life,” she says softly. “Even when I was a kid and didn’t understand what it meant. I froze last night because I- well, I’d only ever imagined you asking me to marry you in crazy fantasies. I couldn’t believe I was hearing the question in real life. And besides that, I didn’t know if I had in me what you were looking for. Would we get married, only for me to realize I don’t want to be a mafia wife at all?”
Of course. She never wanted this, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want me. The only problem is that I can’t leave the life I have. There are too many people relying on me, and there’s too much that I expect from myself. Last night, I didn’t just ask her to marry me. I asked her to be a permanent part of a world she doesn’t want to live in, maybe even to give up on the life she’s been trying to get for herself since we were reunited.
Clara takes a deep breath, and when she exhales, it shakes just a little. “But I’m sure of one thing, Thomas,” she says, speaking clearly and firmly. “I want to be with you. So yes, I meant it. I’m staying with you.” Her eyelashes flutter, ever so slightly. “I’m going to be your wife.”
My hand tightens in hers. “I shouldn’t have left you last night. I was so fucking cold to you, when all I should’ve been doing was telling you how much I-” God, even now the words seem unreal to me. They’re words I never imagined I’d say to anyone, much less someone who’s already said them to me. “I should have told you before you felt like you had to throw yourself into danger for my sake. But I was trained since I was a child that emotions were things to be manipulated, not things to embrace. If I told you my true feelings, someone could use them against me. My best defense has always been silence.” I bring my free hand up, my knuckles brushing down her cheek to her jaw. “I’m not staying silent any longer. I love you, Clara. I love you so fucking much. And you… you are going to be so much more than my wife. You’ll help me lead the Warwick estate. And you’ll be an extraordinary artist.”
Tears shine in her eyes. I bend to kiss them before they fall, and against her skin I whisper, “Now let’s go make you my queen.”
Epilogue: Clara
The party isn’t a big one by any means, but after two hours of eating and dancing and toasts, I’m desperate to escape.
The ballroom of the Warwick main house has been transformed into a wonderland of sage green, purple, and cream. From the enormous bouquets decorating each table, to the drapes hung from the walls, to the lavender ribbon roses sewn into the skirt and bodice of my gown, to the familiar lavender frosting of the cake, I feel like I’ve walked into a palace overtaken by springtime.
Thomas picked the color scheme for the wedding, and I couldn’t help but notice that he chose colors that best compliment my own hair. He’s more of an artist than I think he knows, and I love him all the more for it.
I make my way off the dance floor as the music ebbs into a new song. Speaking of the man, he disappeared two songs ago and hasn’t returned. I spot him standing against the wall.
“Sorry, Mrs. Warwick,” he says with a smile in his eyes, not sounding sorry at all. “Am I bringing down the mood?”
“Not at all, Tommy,” I grin back, letting myself be engulfed in his arms.
“Keep saying my name like that, Warwick,” he growls into my neck. “I fucking love when you call me that.”
With my back to his chest, I take in the room and the crowd, consisting entirely of the members of our family, all dancing and eating and talking with glee.
Raleigh looks stunning in her maid-of-honor dress. I can tell she feels it too by the amount of flirting she’s been doing with Thomas’s generals, all of whom are very politely entertaining but not encouraging her.
Iris, who was Thomas’s nontraditional best man, and Paul, who’s cleaned up well after ten years of sorrow, have only talked to each other. No matter the beat of the song playing, they’re the couple on the dance floor swaying gently in each other’s arms, oblivious to the world around them. It makes my chest ache with equal sorrow and happiness to think of how they were separated for a decade on different sides of a war, but never stopped loving each other. Now they’re reunited, and I have a feeling they’re never going to let themselves be torn apart again.
The rest of the guests, both familiar and new to me, seem like they haven’t been this happy since the schism. This isn’t just our wedding. It’s a promise of peace for our house, and for the city below, one that we hope to keep for many years to come.
I turn my head, pressing my cheek to Thomas’s heart. “I have a present for you,” I say. “Well, two. Well, they’re technically for both of us.”
“More gifts?” Thomas murmurs into my hair. “I can’t think of anything I need right now besides you.”
“You’ll like these,” I tell him, but I can’t help the quickening of my heart from nerves. Gently, I pull his arms from around me and take one of his hands in mine instead. “Come on.”
