Page 123 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“I thought you’d appreciate the callback.”

“I do. I really do.”

Hayes

Six Months Later

Our wedding is everything Frankie wanted and nothing my mother planned.

We’re back in Provence, in the same lavender fields where we had our first real date. Tessa’s the maid of honor, Maddie’s the flower girl, and Malachi’s my best man, despite threatening to tell embarrassing stories in his speech.

Mom spent three months trying to convince us to have the ceremony at the estate. “Think of the photos, darling. The networking opportunities.”

Frankie shut that down fast. “We’re getting married, not hosting a corporate retreat.”

Now Mom’s sitting in the front row, wearing lavender and trying to pretend she’s not crying. Dad’s beside her, looking genuinely happy for the first time in years.

But the chair that matters most is empty. Charles should be here, probably making inappropriate jokes and trying to spike the punch.

Instead, we have his picture on a small table next to the officiant, surrounded by the kind of tacky flowers he would have loved.

Frankie appears at the end of the makeshift aisle, and my brain stops working.

Her dress is simple, elegant, nothing like the princess gowns Mom tried to push. Her hair’s down, the way I like it, and she’s carrying wildflowers she picked this morning.

She looks perfect. More than perfect.

She looks like home.

My home.

My forever.

The ceremony’s short—neither of us wanted a production. But when the officiant asks if I take Francesca to be my wife, my voice cracks on the “I do.”

“You okay?” she whispers.

“Never better.”

When it’s her turn, she doesn’t just say “I do.” She says, “I do, but I’m keeping my name professionally, and if you ever run away from me again, I’ll hunt you down and make you regret it.”

The crowd laughs. And me? I fall a little more in love.

We kiss while lavender petals fall around us like confetti, and I think about wishes made in Central Park fountains. About how sometimes the best things happen when you stop trying to control everything.

The reception’s held at a local vineyard. Nothing fancy, just good food and wine and the people we actually want to celebrate with.

During dinner, Frankie stands up to make a speech.

“So, I’m not good at this stuff,” she starts, and immediately gets a laugh. “But I wanted to say something about love and second chances and the man who taught us both what those things really mean.”

She raises her glass toward Charles’s picture.

“Charles Winthrop was a pain in the ass. He meddled in our lives, manipulated us into spending time together, and probably planned this whole thing from the moment I walked into that coffee shop.”

More laughter.

“But he also showed us that family isn’t about blood or money or meeting expectations. It’s about showing up—every day—for the people who matter.”