Standing between an Anglican priest and my best buddy Jack, beneath the flower-bedecked ceremonial arch that had been erected on the estate’s expansive lawn, I tensed as the string quartet moved into the familiar strains of Ave Maria, signaling that within minutes, I would be a married man.

A flower-lined aisle divided the hundred-plus wedding guests into two banks of smiling, expensively dressed people, who rose to their feet as first Cara, and then Ava, stepped down the aisle.

As Ava approached me, and the violin crooned Schubert’s soaring melody, a chill shot down my spine. In her simple yet elegant gown, holding a bouquet of vivid flowers that complemented the ivory hue of her dress, she was the most stunning bride I’d ever seen, and for a second, my brother’s words about trying to be worthy of her echoed through my mind.

She was the first woman I’d ever known who’d made me wish I was a better man. And over the past week, I’d tried to let her go, something I’d always been good at. But this time was different. Deep in my gut, I wasn’t ready to let her go. Was I in withdrawal from giving up the hottest sex of my life, or was there more to it? I wasn’t sure, but regardless, I felt like a grade A asshole for hurting her.

But whatever it was that I felt for Ava, part of me couldn’t help but be selfishly glad that the ceremony to come was about to make her mine and buy me time to figure things out.

As I vowed to love, honor, and trust Ava, and she made the same promises to me, everything but the L-word rang true for me. I might not be a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy, but I did honor and trust her. And when I vowed to protect and shelter her for all the days of her life, I couldn’t have meant those words more.

As we slipped our rings onto each other’s fingers, and I claimed her lips with our first kiss as a married couple, I felt a fresh sense of resolve.

I would protect her, no matter what.

Even if in the end that meant protecting her from me.

* * *

As Ava and I walked down the aisle hand in hand to the string quartet’s upbeat rendition of Bruno Mars’s “Marry You”—the result of a hard-won musical compromise with Veronica—our guests showered us with the rose petals that had been provided for that purpose.

“We did it,” I said against Ava’s ear.

“It’s not over yet,” she whispered.

“No, but within an hour or so, everyone will be plastered. It’s all downhill from here.”

When we reached the end of the aisle and began to accept the congratulations of our guests, I did my best to keep us moving toward the estate’s large pergola-roofed patio, where the cocktail hour and dinner would take place. Although Ava was once again playing her role masterfully, we had a long evening ahead of us, and I thought it best to conserve our energy.

Progress was slow, but gradually we made our way through the clusters of guests now drifting toward the patio, and when we reached it, I helped Ava to her seat at the table reserved for the two of us, which was raised on a small dais so that our guests could see us.

Nearby, larger tables, draped with pristine ivory tablecloths and set with gleaming silverware and elegant floral centerpieces, ringed a central area that had been left open for after-dinner dancing. Globes of vivid flowers and ivory-hued paper lanterns hung from the pergola’s wooden beams. The string quartet had been replaced with a twelve-person jazz band, which had begun playing the mixture of jazz standards and contemporary favorites that we’d requested for the evening. Most of our guests were already seated, and as I took my seat beside Ava, a smattering of applause filled the air.

As Ava and I smiled and waved, and Ava blew a kiss toward her friend Mimi, who was seated with an assortment of Hamptonites at a nearby table, the bandleader announced us as “Mr. and Mrs. Ronan Kingsley,” and a dark-suited waiter rushed over with two glasses of champagne. I took them and handed one to Ava, before clinking my own against it.

“To you,” I said, keeping my voice low enough that only she could hear me. “Thank you for marrying me, for being a true friend, and for always having my back.”

She met my gaze and spoke quietly. “I’ve done my best. So have you. And the wedding’s going better than expected, at least so far. Even Veronica hasn’t been her usual bitchy self.”

“That’s thanks to a conversation Aiden had with her,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it later, when we’re alone.”

“Regardless of why, I’m grateful,” Ava said.

“As am I. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

Her lips quirked in a wry half-smile, and for the first time in a week, I glimpsed a spark of humor in her eyes. “Trust me—neither will I.”