“I think you are,” I said. “But you didn’t get a proper bachelorette party.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mal whirled a finger in the air, gesturing to the tent and surroundings. “This was exactly as kick-ass as a bachelorette party needs to be. Food, drinks, vampire excitement. Sullivan knows how to throw a party.”

“I do,” Sullivan agreed.

“Bouquet!” Jeff said, then dashed over to a peony bush, snapped off an early white bloom nearly as big as a salad plate, and carried it back to Mallory. “Milady.”

She took it, sniffing the bloom’s frilled petals, and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Actually,” I said, glancing between Catcher and Mallory, “there is just one more thing.”

Before anyone could argue, I grabbed Catcher’s arm, dragged him a few yards away to the other side of a hydrangea border that hadn’t yet bloomed.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked when I pulled him to a stop.

I fixed on my most powerful and predatory expression. “Mallory’s parents aren’t here, but I am. You want to marry her, you’ll need my permission.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am as serious as it comes. Are you marrying her because you want back in the Order?”

For a moment, he stared me down in hard silence. “If you were a man, I’d punch you in the face.”

I lifted my eyebrows expectantly. “You haven’t answered the question.”

When Catcher realized I was serious, he relented, sighed hard. “Of course I’m not. The timing is convenient, yeah. But the marriage is love. Her and me.” He shook his head. “I nearly lost her once. I won’t lose her again.”

When his eyes went misty, I looked away. He wouldn’t have wanted to be caught with tears in his eyes, and he’d have gotten me started again, too. And besides, he’d answered my question. It wasn’t just about the Order for Catcher. By the look in his eyes—the clear adoration—that had only been an issue of timing.

The ball of concern in my gut unknotted, and I smiled at him. “Okay, then.”

“I should still punch you.”

“Considering the present company, I don’t recommend it.” I slipped an arm through his. “Let’s go get you hitched.”

Everything all right? Ethan asked with some amusement when we joined them again.

Just making sure we’re all on the same page.

I assume, since he’s still breathing, that we are.

You’d be correct.

We scooted around so Mallory and Catcher stood facing each other, Jeff in front of them, the rest of us in the audience. We were an odd group, some of us newly acquainted, some of us friends for a very long time. And what better reason to come together than love?

Jeff cleared his throat, looked around, and when he got a nod from Catcher, began to speak.

“Friends, family, vampires. We are gathered on this really odd night to witness the marriage of Catcher Eustice Bell—”

My eyes brightened. “Your middle name is ‘Eustice’?”

“It’s a family name,” Catcher said. “Shut your piehole. Keep going, Jeff.”

“Catcher Eustice Bell,” Jeff said again, with a wink for me, “and Mallory Delancey Carmichael.”

He looked back at Catcher. “Catcher, do you take Mallory to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live, including accidental or intentional immortality?”

Catcher ignored the supernatural smart-assery, reached out, and squeezed Mallory’s hand. “I do.”

Jeff smiled, turned to Mallory. “And do you, Mallory Delancey Carmichael, take Catcher to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live, including accidental or intentional immortality?”

Mallory shifted her gaze to Catcher, looked at him with love and awe and humility that made my tears start all over again. “I do.”

Jeff nodded, gestured toward them. “There don’t appear to be many dry eyes right now, but just to make certain everyone’s appropriately emotional, would you like to address each other, offer some vows?”

Catcher scratched absently at his neck, and I waited for his gruff refusal. But instead he nodded deeply. “Yeah, actually, I would.”

“Me, too,” Mallory said. She handed me the peony, and they took each other’s hands, turned to face each other.

For a moment, they said nothing. They stood with love between them, in a silence that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

I ignored the tears that fell now, let them slide down my cheeks.

“We’ve had some tough times, kid,” he said, and a warm chuckle spread through the crowd. “I know, understatement. So they were the toughest times. Times when we didn’t know which way was up, or who we were individually—or together. I let you down. Jesus, did I let you down. I let my own petty bullshit blind me, let it keep me from seeing you for who you were, and who you were becoming. And that’s on me, and it will be forever.

“But it didn’t matter that I’d let you down, because you were strong enough for both of us. You put in the effort. You did the work, even when it was humiliating. Hell, you did the work because it was humiliating, and you started from scratch. And that meant a lot. ’Cause yeah, you did it for you, so you could find yourself again. But I think you also did it for us.”