“Wakey, wakey!”

The curtains fling open and I instinctively grab the nearest blanket to use as a shield against the harsh sun.

“No…” I groan at Zeke’s morning glow. The bastard.

“Rocky…”

“No,” I say again.

“It’s time.”

He yanks the blanket from my weak, tired grasp and tosses it to the floor.

“I hate you,” I whine.

He laughs. “Of all the days for you to be lazy.”

“I’m not lazy. I just like my sleep.”

“I could be wrong here,” he says, smiling, “but I think you might be the first woman in the history of mankind to almost sleep through her own wedding.”

I sit up. “That’s today?” I ask with a yawn.

He cocks his head to the side. “Really?”

I flash a grin. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.” Zeke leans over and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “Good morning, almost-wife.”

I kiss him back. “Good morning, almost-husband.”

He slides down and raises my tank to kiss my flat stomach. “Good morning, almost-son.”

“Almost-daughter,” I mutter.

Zeke hops up. “Time is gonna tell on that one.”

I plop down onto the mattress again. “You forget who’s cooking the thing,” I point out.

“The mother doesn’t determine the sex.” He taps his chest. “That’s all me, baby, and I’ve got a good feeling about my boy.”

“Yeah, yeah…” I curl around my pillow again.

“Rocky.”

“Just five more minutes.”

The bed gives beneath the weight of his knees as he drops on and straddles me. “Rocky…”

I force myself awake so I can look up into his eyes. Zeke Belmont. The only man who ever gave a damn about me. “Yes, my love?” I ask.

He bites his curling lip, holding back the urge to scold me. Finally, he sighs. “I can’t stay mad at you,” he says.

“Does that mean more kisses?”

“Well, if you insist.”

He eases down, cupping my face before his lips graze mine but he doesn’t give me what I want. I raise my head an inch but he moves away.

“Meanie…” I say.

He laughs and kisses me full on the mouth. “Get up,” he says. “I want to see you walking down the aisle toward me.”

I blush as love fills my chest. “Well, if you insist…”

He leaves a final peck on my nose and stands up, extending his hand for me to take it.

* * *

The chapel is empty but we’re not surprised.

We sent out invitations and RSVPs but they never came back — not that we expected them to. It’s been almost six months since we heard a word from the rest of the Belmont clan, with the small exception of an email from my mother.

Please don’t do this, is all it said.

I deleted it.

In the end, their approval didn’t mean anything. Zeke sold off every piece of the company he had, every meaningless possession, and we’ve traveled the globe on the small fortune ever since. Making up for lost time, as Zeke put it. Rome. Vienna. Sydney. And my personal favorite, Paris.

One look and I was in love. I knew that’s where I wanted to marry him.

I take one step down the aisle and everything else falls away. Zeke stands alone next to the priest in a deep black tuxedo. A familiar look but no less panty-melting, that’s for sure. Sunlight pools in from the wide open windows, along with the sounds of birds and distant voices. It all fades into the background. Tunnel vision leads me to Zeke. Leads me home.

I look into his gray eyes through the soft hue of my veil. They glisten with happy tears, his smile crawling higher up his face with each step I take. I glance down at my white dress as he does. When I look at him again, I find him laughing.

“What?” I ask when I reach him.

Zeke raises the veil and slowly lays it over my head. “I’ve never been so happy in my life,” he whispers.

I tighten my face to hold my tears back. “I know what you mean.”

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “I love you, Rocky Ramone,” he says, his breath tickling my fingers.

He rests his other hand on my stomach but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. One soft caress of his hand and I feel everything he does. He’s going to be a wonderful father — one far better than either of us ever had.

The priest begins, no doubt an attempt to draw our affections away from each other but he failed miserably. I don’t take my eyes off Zeke the whole time through the rings and the vows and the tears on my cheeks, and when the priest finally tells Zeke to kiss his bride, I nearly sob with bliss.

“I love you,” I say, my lips pressed against his.

He brushes the tears off my cheeks and smiles.