I’m still thinking about the conversation with my dad as we walk through the woods, making our way to the wedding site. Viviana and Siena are up ahead in the middle of a conversation about Siena’s college plans. I’m several paces behind with Leo, who’s just as quiet as I am. The only noise either of us make is the crunch of the leaves beneath our shoes. I went for so long thinking my dad was dead, to then finding out he’s alive, and now to be told my life was never what it seemed. Gran kept me from him all these years, not vice versa. I don’t know what to think.

And he never gave up.

After all this time, he’s still searching. I’m not sure if I feel better or worse after talking to him. It still feels like wasted time. He never found the killer. He lost precious years with his children. Then again, he sacrificed his own life to make ours better. How can I hold that against him?

Another guest calls out to Leo, catching up with our group in a few, quick strides. Carousel’s brother. Leo politely introduces me, and then the two of them make conversation. I lag behind. Candles hang from the trees on either side of our dirt path, lighting the way. Up ahead, I hear music and laughter, and I see the white of a tent. We’re not far.

Someone grabs me by the waist, yanking me back. I gasp, about to cry out when their hand snakes around my mouth.

“Shh. Don’t give me away.” Casper’s face gleams in the moonlight, and I let out a breath, relieved. He lowers his hand.

Leo continues wandering away from us, oblivious to my absence. Casper draws me against him for one quick mind-shattering kiss, leaving me breathless afterward. Whispering against my cheek, he says, “You are Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” I say, trying to balance myself on wobbly knees. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He’s suited up, and I can tell by the way it’s cut that it’s an expensive one. His black hair is slicked back. His face, clean shaven. I mean, give me a break. If he wants to see gorgeous, all he has to do is look in the mirror. This is probably what he’d look like every day if he hadn’t quit law. Those poor courtrooms of America. They were cheated.

A disgruntled voice breaks into our bubble. “As disgustingly cute as this is, we should get moving. It’s eleven thirty.”

It’s Casper’s friend, the same one he brought to the pub the other night—Davey—at least I think that’s his name. I still think of him as Puke Shoes.

Casper sighs. “I tried to leave him back at the château, but he insisted on crashing Care’s wedding.”

Davey offers me his hand. “We never got the chance to meet the other night. I’m Davey, Casper’s best friend.”

“I wouldn’t say best friend,” Casper grumbles.

“Amelia,” I say, shaking his hand. He’s charming in a good ole boy kind of way. Slow, drawn-out voice. Beer gut. Eyes that sparkle with humor. “How did the two of you become friends?”

“This oughta be good.” Casper shoves his hands into his pocket and looks away as if he’s already dreading Davey’s answer.

We walk as we talk. “A poker tournament in Vegas,” Davey says. “This guy had been bluffing all night. Then he knocked me out with a flush over my trip aces. I’ve never been so furious in my life. I thought he was a pretentious prick with his stupid designer sunglasses and those earbuds he never took out. He refused to hold a conversation with anyone at the table. Complete asshole—”

“She gets the picture, Davey” Casper cuts in. “Do you mind jumping ahead to the friend part?”

“Right. So anyway, I was walking along the strip when Mr. Bluffer over here was jumped by a gorilla.”

I crook a brow at Casper. “Is this a real story?”

“It was a monkey, not a gorilla. Belonged to one of those street performers. He got spooked by some fireworks, ran away from his owner, and wound up lost in the crowd. Also, the monkey attacked Davey, not me.”

Davey continues on as if Casper never spoke. “That evil creature latched itself around Casper’s neck, and well, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. I had to help him out.”

Casper translates. “I unhooked the monkey from Davey, then helped him find his owner.”

“To thank me, Cas treated me to dinner at the Bellagio. Paid the tab with his tournament winnings. Turns out, he wasn’t such an asshole after all.”

“Except for the part about me thanking him, that’s all true,” Casper says in agreement.

I smile. “Remind me to never ask you about any other stories, ever again.”

The sound of a harp greets us as we arrive at the entrance. There’s a giant white outdoor tent glittering with twinkle lights. A security guard takes invitations at the opening as if he were collecting tickets to a concert. Another precaution. Another reminder of why there are So. Many. Precautions.

Casper and I each give the security guard our invitations, but he presses his hand against Davey’s chest as he tries to go inside with us. “Invitation?”

“I’m a plus one.”

The security guard looks back at us. “Either of you claim this guy?”

“Nope,” comes Casper’s quick reply.

“Seriously, bro?” Davey says, stunned. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“No invitation. No admission,” the security guard says.

Casper links his arm through mine. “Come on. Don’t look at his face,” he warns me. “You’ll take pity on him.”

“Casper. You’re not leaving him.”

He groans, looking back and forth between me and Davey. “Okay, fine. I guess he’s with us.”

The security guard lowers his arm.

“You’re a dick,” Davey says, strolling right past Casper. “I’m going to find a seat far, far away from you.”

* * *

Admittedly, this midnight wedding in the forest thing is kind of romantic. Carousel planned out every last detail, from the string quartet playing soft melodies to the dozens of floating candles, to the basket upon basket of peonies, to the gauzy tent fabric flapping in the breeze—the result is like something out of a dark fairytale. There are two divided spaces inside: one for the ceremony and one for the reception. We’re ushered to where the ceremony will take place, then directed to sit along the wooden benches placed behind an altar of moss garland hanging from entwined branches.

People enter the tent, one group after another, taking their seats along the benches. Bride to the left. Groom to the right. So far, Carousel’s family of blonde boho hippies outnumber the Serras. I wonder how many of us Hugo actually invited. Or how many dared to show their faces.

Casper sits next to me, threading his fingers through mine, brushing his thumb over my knuckles, twisting the charms on my bracelet. He’s teasing my hand, sending shivers down my spine as if he’s giving me hints about what’s to come.

Despite being surrounded by people, he’s all I can think about. His warmth beside me. The way his hand lingers at the hem of my dress. Then slowly beneath the crimson red fabric, up my thigh…I immediately grab it, linking my fingers through his before he can go any higher.

One corner of his mouth lifts, just slightly. “I’m ready for this wedding to be over.”

“We just got here,” I point out.

“I know. But I’m ready for the part where you follow me back to my hotel room. Do you know what we’re going to do in there?”

My breath hitches. So he really is done being Mr. Nice Guy. He’s not pushing me away anymore. And I’m not asking him to stay away.

Our gazes lock. “What are we going to do?”

He leans close, so only I can hear him. “We’re going to drown, you and I, and we’re not coming up for air until morning.”

I swallow. “When you say drown…”

His voice tickles my ear. “I’m going to taste every inch of you, until no part of your skin is left untouched. We’re going to swim in each other’s depths. You’re going to come over and over and over again, until you’re gasping for breath. Until you can’t think. Until your body is spent and heavy. Until you’ve sunken to the bottom of our own little ocean.”

I blink several times, clenching my legs together, hyper-aware of his close proximity. For a brief moment, I forget everyone else inside the tent.

Eight months. Ethan held out for eight months, and I still didn’t give it up to him. It never felt right. But I am very willing to give myself completely to the man sitting beside me. A man I’ve only known for a couple weeks, yet somehow, my soul seems to understand his. Better than I ever did Ethan, or any one else for that matter.

Keeping my voice smooth and calm, I say, “And in the middle of us,” I cough, “ahem, drowning, what happens when Davey barges into the room?”

He stiffens beside me. “Fucking hell, I forgot about him.”

A small giggle buries itself in my chest, filled with both humor and remorse.

“Somewhere else then,” he says, determined. “I know a place where we can go.”

He turns my chin toward him, searching my eyes. “What do you think? Will you run away with me for the night, Amelia Serra?”

I’d absolutely go with him anywhere. But I also don’t want to sound too eager. “I don’t know,” I say, teasing. “I like breathing.”

“You’ll love drowning.”

“Oxygen is necessary for survival, you know. Are you planning to be the death of me? And here I was, assuming it would be at the hands of a sadistic killer.”

He ignores that. “Admit you want to go, or I’ll make you admit it in front of all these people.”

“And how would you do that exactly?”

His lips graze my cheek, then again along my jawline, leaving tingles in their wake. His hand escapes mine, slips behind me, finding the small of my back. He carefully traces circles there, sending sparks of electricity up my spine. “Do you really want to find out?” he asks, his voice heavy with desire. “Because I don’t really care who’s watching us.”

“Fine,” I breathe out. “I want to go with you.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” His lips find my earlobe, his teeth gently grazing the flesh there.

Waves of lava explode from deep inside me. Hot. I feel hot everywhere. Just one little touch, and I feel like I’m coming undone. Dammit. I both hate and love his ability to do this to me. “I swear, I want to go with you,” I growl out, pressing my palms flat against the bench beneath me. I try scooting away, but he locks his arm around my waist.

“I know you do,” he says, traces of a grin on his lips. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

He doesn’t have an ounce of shame, but I’m okay with that. Something has shifted between us. I felt it at the cliffs, and since then the feeling has only intensified. He said he wasn’t going to stop what was happening, and he meant it.

I catch sight of Leo several benches in front of us. He eyes Casper over his shoulder, casting a dark scowl his way. “What’s that about? Something new?” I ask curiously. “Or more of the protective older brother stuff?”

“Same story as always. He tells me to beat it. I refuse because, well, it’s you. And then I get more of angry, scowling Leo.”

The it’s you part of what he just said sends a thrilling little jolt straight through me. “I’m happy you’re a rebel. But just for clarification, am I breaking up a bromance? Because it would really bother me to know it’s my fault.”

Casper snorts. “Leo and I haven’t been close since Junior died. We’re friends, yes. But not good friends. Not like we used to be.”

His hold around my waist loosens. I lean back, catching the faraway look in his eyes. I keep forgetting the history there.

Casper deserved those friendships. He deserves more from my only living brother now, too. Leo is alive and healthy. Bitter or not, he’s here, in the flesh, and these are moments he’ll never get back.

This wedding is beginning to make a lot more sense to me. Carousel and Hugo aren’t wasting their lives—they’re living them. They’re making the most out of these moments. We should all be so lucky to find those pieces of light shining through our dark skies.

Five minutes to midnight, a large group of dark-haired Serras appear, filing into the benches along the groom’s side of the tent. My dad is one of them. He takes his place at the altar, acting as Hugo’s best man.

My eyes roam over the new faces, drinking them up. Old, young, beautiful, alive. They came. There are Serras in this tent, and they actually came. These people are my cousins, aunts, uncles—the realization sparks like an ignition turning over. A few weeks ago, I had no family members. Now I’m surrounded by hordes of them.

“Here we go, Baby Serra,” Casper says. “Time for the fun to begin.”