Page 312 of Romeo

Mama answered the rest. “Been in our family for generations.”

Fiona’s eyes immediately filled.

“Oh no,” I murmured. “Don’t do that. You start, Mama starts, then Aunt Marabella starts, and the whole damn bar floods.”

Aunt Marabella sniffed loudly. “Hush, boy.”

Fiona laughed, her eyes still bright with unshed tears, and I decided that sound belonged in every important moment I had left.

Father Benoit continued.

I barely remembered repeating the words after him because I meant them before he gave them to me. Protect her. Honor her. Stand beside her. Choose her.

There was nothing in those vows I hadn’t already promised myself.

Fiona’s voice shook slightly when she repeated hers, but her hand stayed steady in mine.

Father Benoit smiled once we finished.

Then he looked around the Bourbon Bar.

“If anyone present knows of any reason these two should not be joined in marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Gator muttered, “Well, shit.”

The front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the glass.

Every head in the bar turned.

Granny Martha Steiner stood in the doorway.

Behind her, packed across the sidewalk and spilling toward the street, was what looked like the entire fucking Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club.

Brothers.

Old ladies.

Kids.

All of them.

Granny’s eyes found me.

“Oh fuck.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Fiona

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Granny stood just inside the Bourbon Bar with one hand still pressed against the door she had slammed open, and behind her was what looked like half of Rosewood. Georgie and Josie were there. Frank and Claudia. C.C. stood near the front wearing an expression that promised her brother was going to hear about this for the rest of his natural life. The Sons of Hell filled nearly every bit of open space behind them, their wives tucked among black leather cuts, and children peeking around adults to see what all the excitement was about.

And Callum ‘King’ Montclair was staring at Jasper as though he had spent the entire flight to Louisiana practicing how to kill a man using nothing but eye contact.

The silence stretched long enough that Father Benoit slowly lowered the hand he had raised while asking if anyone objected to our marriage. I became painfully aware of the dress on my body, the flowers in my hands, and Jasper standing beside me. There was probably no worse moment for Granny to arrive than the exact second a priest invited objections.

Georgie apparently agreed.