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Thankfully, Cohen’s father wasn’t mixed up in Winchester Armani’s business, so Cohen still had his millions. Although Aspen had chosen to live with them, Cohen still gave his cousin a monthly allowance.
Marshal stared at the closed double doors. Those doors were set to open and Ryker was to walk through them, down the aisle toward him, and be ready to live the rest of his life by his side.
They’d come a long way over the past six months.
Ryker had regained his spark for living and Marshal had learned a new level of patience he had never had before.
Time now ticked by.
The doors remained closed.
If by chance those doors never opened, they were not over by a long shot.
He would continue to stay by Ryker’s side, loving and supporting him until the day he died.
They had spent the past six months on the ranch—walking, talking, and just being together with the two of them and his family. As trust returned, Ryker had turned to him one night, taking him in his arms and to his bed, and Marshal had gone to heaven on earth.
He never took Ryker or anything the man did for granted.
And their relationship began to repair, increment by increment, through love and patience.
Marshal remembered clearly the day about a month ago. It was beneath the hot summer sun and a wide oak tree where he had dropped to one knee and opened the ring box.
“Will you marry me?” His voice shook from fear, but he took the risk.
When Ryker had nodded and held out his hand, Marshal had fumbled and finally managed to slide it on Ryker’s ring finger.
They’d planned their wedding day together so there shouldn’t be any reason why Ryker wouldn’t come through those doors.
Unless he had planned for revenge.
It was a possibility.
After all, he’d lied to Ryker for more than a decade.
If this was the price he had to pay for his deceit, then so be it.
Bishop elbowed him slightly and that was when Marshal realized that the doors had opened.
Ryker stepped through them with the sun glinting at his back, creating a halo around the bright, curly red hair that had grown several inches.
The surgery five months ago had been a success and the scars on Ryker’s face were not noticeable beneath Ryker’s master hand at makeup.
Not that the scars had ever bothered him. He loved Ryker, body and soul, and scars would never change that.
Ryker held his gaze across the distance and walked toward him, looking so fucking hot in a slim-fitting black tux that matched his own.
When Ryker reached him, Marshal reached out and took the man’s slender hand.
The gold bracelet on Ryker’s wrist winked richly in the light. Marshal had replaced the tracker one with a white gold one. Their initials were carved on the inside.
Ryker smiled at him and drew him closer and together, they turned toward the minister.
A hush dropped over the crowd in the building.
And there before their family, friends, and higher power, Marshal pledged his life forever to Ryker.
The reception was packed and Ryker smiled and shook hands until his face hurt.
