Walking down the aisle with my father was strange, but healing. All of the milestones he had missed had hurt … until they didn’t anymore, because I had stopped expecting or wanting them from him.

We could never change what had been lost, but as I stepped into a room he had mostly filled with people who cared what happened to his son, on his arm, seeing pride on his face, it felt good. Alphas were supposed to be able to count on their alpha fathers. I was slowly beginning to allow him the chance to try.

I stood at the altar first, for what felt like forever, grinning nervously at Carla. She had forgiven me for scaring her, but only after I told her the whole story, and begged her to be my best woman. The all-inclusive trip to Paris was an added bonus, of course.

Finally the music changed, and curtains parted, and there was Riley, more beautiful in his expensive, tailored tux than I could have imagined, just pregnant enough that I could see, when I looked, my child. My heir.

He managed to surprise me. I had gone over every detail with Grace, and Gloria, and my father, to be certain that the wedding was perfect, but this hadn’t been part of the plan. Richard was supposed to walk up first as Riley’s man of honor, and instead, they walked up together, Riley on his arm, as if Richard were giving him away to me.

My real father. Riley knew.

It meant everything to me, and a tear came to my eyes, which I quickly wiped away before Riley got too far up the aisle. I reached for him as I noticed him almost trip; our eyes locked, but Richard helped him first, and then stood by Carla behind us.

The priest was saying a prayer in French, my father’s idea. Then he asked us each questions: would we love each other, keep each other, stay faithful.

It all went by in a blur. I had approved the questions before the wedding, but none of them seemed to matter as I stood in front of everyone, staring into Riley’s eyes, because I knew exactly what he meant to me, and what I meant to him.

We were mates. The wedding was tradition, it was ceremony, but we were wed, in our souls, already.

“I do,” I said, and beamed as Riley echoed the sentiment back. We were both trembling, our hands shaking, just trying to hold back from grabbing each other.

Richard brought us our rings, and I felt sparks through my fingers as I was allowed to touch Riley, to feel the same soaring joy through his skin as I felt pounding into my heart with every breath. He placed my ring on my finger, and it settled in, a perfect ring of pure gold, warming to my hot skin.

The world snapped into color when the priest pronounced us married, and let us kiss. Riley flew into my arms as I reached for him, grabbing him around the hips and lifting him to kiss me passionately.

Three hundred and fifty guests leapt to their feet in cheering applause, and loose rose petals fell all around us, as if dropped from the heavens by God himself.

We had done it. We were married. I clung to my husband, refusing to let him escape my grasp.

It was the beginning of the rest of our lives.

We went to Italy for our honeymoon. The flight was overnight, and neither of us could sleep. We were both high on each other’s company, on the prospect of being married and the joys to come.

The baby idea was starting to be very, very real, not just as a possibility of life that had to be protected, but as something we had to plan for. We had spent so much time planning the wedding, and this trip, but we were finished with that.

We spent the flight talking about the logistics of parenthood, what sort of birth Riley wanted, what the nursery should look like, even plans for preschool and private school versus public. There were a lot of decisions to make, none of them final, but the more we discussed them, the more excited I became.

By the time we landed in Venice, went through security, got our luggage, and arrived at the little apartment we’d rented for our stay, we were exhausted. We collapsed into bed for most of the day, and I was woken by Riley’s sweet kisses in the early evening. He was wrapped just in a towel, freshly showered.

“Get up, baby. Go take a shower, get dressed. We have plans.”

I groaned, rubbing at my face.

“We do?” That was a surprise to me. I hadn’t booked much, a tour later in the week, but nothing so soon.

“Shh, it’s a surprise. Just be quick,” he begged.

A surprise? Since when was Riley allowed to surprise me? I did as he asked, and had a quick, hot shower to rinse away the plane sweat before meeting him in our room to dress.

“Are we going to dinner? Should I dress up?”

He gave me a mischievous smile. “Wear something comfortable.”

That made me even more curious, but I pulled on jeans and a white t-shirt, dressing down for once. He gave me a look of approval. “Damn.”

“What?”

“You look sexy in that,” he murmured, and bit his lip, eyeing the bed, as if he were tempted to drag me there. “But we don’t have time. C’mon.”

He barely let me get my socks and shoes on before he dragged me out the door and down onto the Venetian streets, which were out of a dream. The whole city was so visibly ancient, so gorgeously full of architecture wherever I looked.

Places like this one were why I wanted so much to travel, to really experience life outside of work. There were no cars in Venice, so we would have to go wherever we went by foot. I took Riley’s hand, enjoying the stroll with my beloved through a city dripping in romance.

Dusk approached. We walked along the canal until we arrived at a gondola, and the guide seemed to be expecting us. I looked at him for a moment, and then to Riley.

“This is your surprise?” I asked, a grin on my face. It was so simple. So sweet. I couldn’t have possibly guessed.

“Just get in,” he encouraged, and I stepped carefully into the little boat, and then helped Riley in with me. We settled, and slowly the gondola began to move down the ancient canals of Venice.

“This is amazing,” I admitted, admiring the glow of the jade green water under a nearly-setting sun, the sky a wash of pink and orange.

Riley smiled at me and took my hand. “Have you heard of the Bridge of Sighs? We’re approaching it now. It’s the most romantic place in all of Venice.

“It’s said that if a couple in a gondola kisses as they pass under the Bridge of Sighs, while the bells toll at St. Mark’s, at sunset, their love will last forever.”

I was stunned. I glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting. I glanced at the bridge, white and ancient, just ahead of us, covered in lover’s locks. Suddenly, the sound of church bells rang out into the air, joyous and fateful.

I leaned in and grasped Riley by the back of the neck tenderly, and kissed him like we’d never kissed before. The gondola passed right under the bridge, and the sun hit the horizon, lighting the world with a burning hot lover’s glow.

Riley’s words rang in my head and we came out the other side, gazing at one another. The sunset shimmered in Riley’s sparkling blue eyes. I felt lit with life, with the promise of a life with my perfect mate.

Forever.