Holding her against me, I move my mouth to her ear and speak only for her to hear, “I know we didn’t have the most traditional start, but I wanted you to have this moment to look back on. I wanted you to have a story to tell our kids one day, and I need you to know how important you are to me.” Leaning back, I swipe away the tears that are falling steadily from her eyes and watch her pull in a deep breath and look around.

“I didn’t need this moment.” She smiles softly, throwing her hand out before resting both hands against my chest, and my heart trips over itself. “Since the moment I woke up as your wife, I’ve had thousands of moments that have shown me how important me and my happiness are to you.” She pauses, pulling in another deep breath. “I didn’t need this ring.” She holds up her hand then grins. “I love it, and I’m totally keeping it.” I chuckle at that, and then watch her face soften. “But I didn’t need it. In the end, it’s just a ring. My devotion to you lives in here.”

She holds her hand over her heart then rests her hands back against my chest and leans closer. “I can’t wait to tell our kids how I married their dad in Vegas, and how the craziest thing I have ever done in my life was also the best and most beautiful thing I ever did,” she breathes, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck. “I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I wouldn’t change our story, even if I could.”

Clearing my throat that has suddenly closed up, I slide my hands around the curve of her waist, pull her up my body, and take her mouth like no one is watching, hearing a loud roar move through the crowd below.

Leaning back against the bar, I watch Ashlyn on the dance floor toss back her head and laugh, “Papa!” as her mom’s dad swings her around in circles. Since the moment dinner finished and the music started up, she has danced with one person after another, and the smile on her face hasn’t faltered once.

“I suppose my granddaughter did all right in marrying you.” Looking down, I smile at Ashlyn’s Memaw. The woman is a tiny thing, maybe four-eight, with long gray hair on her head, and a face I know I will one day see on her granddaughter.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.” She rolls her eyes, and I fight the urge to laugh. “I’m just glad to see my girl happy,” she mutters, pushing in next to me then motioning for the bartender to come over. Once he’s close, she asks him for a vodka and cranberry with extra vodka, and then smiles as he hands it to her.

“Gran, you’re not supposed to be drinking.” Jax takes the drink from her just as she puts it to her lips, and her nose scrunches up in disgust.

“If no one knows I’m drinking it, I can drink it,” she informs him, resting her hands on her hips.

“It doesn’t work like that, Gran, and I saw you order it and know you’re drinking, so your point is moot.”

“You sound like your mom,” she grumbles, then huffs before stomping off in the direction of Lilly, who is standing with Cash and Trevor.

“I’m not quite sure she likes me,” I say, watching her go, hearing Jax laugh.

“You could commit a murder in front of all of these people, and none of them would bat an eyelash. Trust me, you’ve won everyone over without even trying,” he tells me, then looks out at the dance floor to where his sister is now dancing with her cousin Bax, who flew in yesterday with her other cousin Cobi, from Montana, where they have been working. “How’s she doing?”

“Good, she’s been preoccupied with my brother, his wife, and our nephews in town, so she hasn’t had much time to dwell. Have you heard anything new?” I ask as he motions for the bartender to come back over.

“No, nothing. And normally with a story like hers being on the news, there would at least be a couple solid leads, but no one has come forward with any new information.”

“Did you look into Isla?” I know right now isn’t exactly the time to be talking about this shit, but with everything going on we haven’t had a second to touch base in over a week.

“I did. She was in New York and didn’t step foot back into Tennessee until days after the incident,” he says, then pauses, asking the bartender for a beer when he finally makes his way down the bar toward us.

“I have to be honest with you. The more time that goes by without anything else occurring, the more my gut is telling me it was just an accident,” he mutters under his breath, smiling at someone who passes.

“I want to believe that, but I’m not going to let my guard down. I’d rather be overly cautions than pissed at myself if something happened again.”

“We’re on the same page with that, especially with the women who’ve turned up dead.”

“Have you heard anything about that?”

“Not much. The cops I know are keeping a tight lid on the cases since they seem to have been committed by the same person,” he explains, taking a pull from the beer the bartender hands him.

“What about the women?”

“I only know what I’ve read in the papers, and I imagine you’ve read the same things I have.”

I had read the papers. One woman was a known prostitute, and the other was a college student. The only thing they had in common, as far as I could tell, was the fact their bodies were found in town and they were both from Nashville.

“Did you ever think about the rest of the men in the world when you planned this shit?” Parker asks, breaking into our conversation, and I raise a brow at him as he leans across the bar and asks the bartender for a shot of whiskey.