Page 69 of The Malibu Secret

The gallery's exposed brick walls frame us perfectly as Lilith prepares for the ceremony. She got ordained online specifically for today, and honestly, I can't imagine anyone better. She's been insisting for months that Tally and I share some cosmic connection—these "tendrils of light" that she claims to see linking souls who've traveled together across lifetimes. Sounds mystical, but I get it. Some people just click like they're picking up a conversation they started centuries ago. That was us from that first night in the ER—I knew she was it for me, and turns out, she felt the same way too.

God, the time we wasted. Her keeping me at arm's length because she was convinced she'd "destroy" anything good that came her way—including me. "I love you too much to ruin you," she said. I understood her fear, but understanding doesn't make the lost time hurt any less.

Even now, part of me worries she might bolt before saying "I do." But therapy helped, and nearly dying in those woods changed everything for her. "It was like having ice water thrown in my face," she told me afterward. "I've been pushing away everything good because I was afraid I'd break it. What a waste."

But everybody's here, and it's go time. Lilith calls everybody to order, and I take Tally's hands in mine, those skilled artist's fingers that have marked so many bodies but somehow left the deepest marks on my heart. "I promise to be your anchor when the world gets rough,” I tell her, holding her hands. “Your partner when you need backup, and your biggest fan when you kick ass—which is pretty much always."

Tally's eyes shine as she squeezes my hands. "Cameron Kensington, I promise to love you fiercely, honestly, and without filter—just like everything else I do. You saw me, really saw me, when I was trying my hardest not to be seen." Her voice breaks when she vows to trust me with her scars, both inked and invisible, and with the greatest gift she's ever given— our child. Her fingers squeeze mine when she says, "I spent my life running, but I'm done. I'm home now."

Home now. Home now.

Damn, those words are music to my ears.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

TALLY

The ceremony is over, and now it's time to party. The dive bar, O’Malley’s, is packed with sweaty bodies, neon beer signs casting everyone in a blue-red glow that makes even the Kensington boys look a little rough around the edges. Cameron and I buy everybody drinks—whiskey shots that burn all the way down and leave my throat feeling scorched. We play pool on a table with cigarette burns in the felt, and throw darts at a board so worn you can barely see the numbers. I even get to know his brother Silas, who's been on my shit list since day one. After all, he was the one who started the whole Willow thing in motion by bringing her to that weekend at the cabin, throwing her together with Cameron right in front of my eyes while I sat there like an idiot.

But he breaks the ice by coming up to me, his designer watch glinting under the bar lights as he apologizes. "I'm sorry for pushing Cameron and Willow together," he says, his manicured fingers wrapped around a bottle of Heineken—not a Bud Light like the rest of us peasants. The fact that he's drinking beer from a bottle at all impresses me, because I get the impression that of all the Kensington men, he's the most bougie with his perfectly styled hair and cashmere sweater that probably costs more than my rent. "But you have to understand one thing. I'm very protective of Cameron. We all are. And the thing of it is, Cameron deserves everything in life. And he's been given a really raw deal, losing his wife and daughter in that accident, after suffering from the tragedy of our father leaving for so long and our mother dying so young."

"Don't worry about it. I get it. You were just trying to play matchmaker because you care."

"Yeah, well, I screwed up. Got too caught up in how perfect they looked together on paper."

"Meanwhile, I'm a walking red flag." I snort, tugging at my sleeve to hide the tattoo that crept up my wrist. "My life's a dumpster fire compared to the Kensington dynasty. But hearts don't read résumés, do they? Mine's been stuck on Cameron forever, and turns out, his has been stuck on me too. He was brave enough to admit it. I just kept running."

Silas laughs, not bothering to contradict me. Cameron's taken to calling me his "beautiful disaster" lately. He knows better than to pretend I'm not chaos incarnate—I'd call bullshit faster than he could blink. But the way he says it makes me believe that maybe my mess is exactly what he wants.

That evening at Indigo, the crowd hushes as Mom takes her place at the piano. Then Cameron appears on stage—a surprise I hadn't expected. His calloused fingers stretches across the keys, and when that gravelly voice of his fills the smoky air, my lungs seize up. Each note seems torn from somewhere deep inside him, raw and unfiltered. The lyrics wrap around me like they were written in my skin. His eyes find mine across the room during the chorus, just a flicker, but enough.

When he announces the title—"Beautiful Disaster"—I nearly knock over my drink. If I had any doubt that this gorgeous love song was about me, I don’t anymore.

And, as I clap, tears explode from my eyes like I've been gut-punched by happiness. My chest heaves. My mascara's probably running down my face like black lightning bolts. When have I ever lost my shit over being happy? But Christ, I'm not just happy—I'm obliterated by joy. Married to the most phenomenal man who's ever drawn breath, mother to a little girl so perfect it makes my teeth ache, and my mother finally clean after drowning in pills and bastards for decades.

Fuck me. So this is what it feels like when life doesn't suck.