When Whitney Anne Dwyer appeared at the back of Mother of Sorrows Church, everybody took in a collective breath. Her face shone with so much pleasure, her eyes sparkled with so much love that every single gaze in the place focused on her.

The gawking was also caused by her appearance. The dress she’d chosen was strapless, and her tanned shoulders glistened even in the muted lights of the vanilla-scented sanctuary. White silk draped over her chest, narrowed at the waist and ended at ankle length. Sparkly shoes completed the outfit. Around her neck was a single strand of pearls that had been her mother’s. She wore no veil. One was not needed with her luxurious dark hair falling in soft waves down her back.

Pa, next to her, also beaming, whispered something in her ear and they proceeded down the aisle. The two reached the front, where the wedding party, aka the family, stood in honor of the bride. Each of her cousins wore raven-black suits, white shirts and silly grins. Mama had picked a simple pink sheath and Maggie a darker pink dress that Declan thought was far too mature for her.

The younger set waited in the seats reserved for the choir. Morgan and Meli sported frilly pink dresses. The three boys had been fitted with navy suits, but no one could talk them into ties. Still, Ryan and Jamie tugged at their shirts. Simon, Gabe’s son, shifted from one foot to another, but all of the nephews smiled at their aunt.

Max stood at the altar with his father, both in dark suits, too, an expression on the groom’s face that was so profound, so loving, he almost stole the show from her. Almost. When Whitney and Pa reached the front of the church, he practically skipped down to meet her. Shaking hands with her father, he pulled Whitney close and said, “Ready, hotshot?”

“You betcha, mister.”

The vows and the ceremony were simple.

Whitney: “I love you, John Maxwell, and no matter what happens I’ll be with you. I’ll love and cherish you our whole lives and bring you babies, and joy and happiness.”

Max: “You’ve already made me the happiest man in the world. Never again will I question my feelings for you. Never again will I leave you. You are the only woman, the only one, for me.”

The priest, standing behind him in garments of white and gold, asked the age-old questions and both responded “I do.” Max’s words were uttered hoarsely as if he couldn’t believe in his good fortune.

“You may kiss the bride, Max.”

But he couldn’t. Tears streamed from his eyes. Whitney, smiling like the sun, scrubbed his cheek with her hands, met his forehead with hers and whispered something that made him give her a big smooch right there in church.

Nick, Gabe and Connor rode in a second car to Nick’s house where the reception would be held. Deep down, Connor had hoped that Callandra would attend the wedding. Her father would have told her what was happening. He thought about Alessio Gentileschi, about what he’d said his early years in Casarina had been like, and also about his young manhood. Of course, the king’s promise to Connor was never far from his mind.

And Connor realized, somewhere along the way, that he didn’t need to forgive Calla, because from her view, she’d done the only thing she could. Twice. He’d mourn the death of Razim for the rest of his life, but he knew how much the young man cared about him, and Razim wouldn’t want Connor to sacrifice his happiness because of the horrific results of his wandering away in the middle of the night. Also during the ceremony, he realized he believed the pledge Alessio had made to him about the children he and Calla might have. This all allowed Connor to admit wholeheartedly that he wanted what Whitney and Max had, and no other woman could give him that but Calla.

Now he felt a wave of sadness so great he could barely contain it. He tried to hide his feelings from his brothers, but they knew him too well.

“You’re quiet, kid,” Gabe said. “Aren’t you happy for our cuz?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Like hell.” This from Nick. They’d sandwiched him in.

God, Connor hoped he wasn’t going to get a lecture.

“Serves you right for moping for so long. I sure hope she’ll forgive you for being such an idiot.” No coddling from Nick, but perhaps the guys’ coddling quotient had reached its limit.

“I know I’ve moped too long.”

“Nah,” Gabe said kindly. “Sometimes you have to work through things no matter how long it takes.”

“Thanks, guys. For everything.” His voice was choked with emotion.

They arrived at Nick’s. Isabelle was at home, of course, and her mother would have helped her dress and ease her into the living room for a couple of hours.

“Let’s go say hi to Isabelle,” Gabe suggested. He held up a case. “I want to give her the video Macy took.” Lovely Macy had worn a simple peach lace dress and had taken the film so Isabelle could see the wedding.

“That’s sweet.” This from Nick.

Connor got out of the car first and headed to the door. When he reached it, he turned around and saw Nick and Gabe lagged back, then stopped. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah, go ahead inside. I want to ask Nick about work.”

“Today?” He shook his head, opened the door and put on a brave face.

The living room to the right was dim. As it was afternoon, he couldn’t figure out why the blinds were shut. Something propelled him over to the huge windows, where he let the sunlight in. He blinked when the hot rays blasted inside.

He blinked again, hard, when he turned around. “Holy Mother of God.”

“Hello, Connor.” Calla sat on the couch, dressed in a shade of pink, too. Her hair flowed down her back and chest. Her face was highlighted with color.

Connor’s heart started to thunder. His hands shook. He couldn’t move.

“Connor, are you all right?”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

She shrugged a dainty shoulder. “If I had my choice, you’d say you still love me, you’re glad I’m here, and you want to make a life with me like Whitney and Max.”

His throat parched, he got out hoarsely, “I love you, I’m glad you’re here and I want to make a life with you like Whitney and Max.”

She sat back in the cushions and blew out a heavy breath. “Thank God.”

He covered the distance between them in giant steps, moved the coffee table back and knelt in front of her. Taking her hands, he kissed them. They were soft and smooth and warm. “How long have you been here?”

“I got to Nick’s about noon.”

“In time for the wedding.”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to take away from Whitney’s day. She needed to be the center of everyone’s thoughts. I’m accompanied by the royal guards, but they’re in the kitchen. I also figured you’d be distracted.”

His hand went to her chest, splayed over her heart and said, “Oh, I’d be distracted all right. What made you decide to come? Your father?”

“No, though he talked at length about you. It just came to me that I couldn’t live without you. Now, my father did convince me to fight for you if I had to.” She held out some papers to him. “This is how I begin.”

“Look, I don’t care what that is. I love you. I want you in my life.”

“It’s a prenup, love.”

He stilled. “Oh—because your father’s king and you have assets to protect? But you have to know I don’t care about those.”

“Connor, just read it!”

The note began with legal jargon, but one line stood out: Callandra Marcello Gentileschi legally promises she will never take a child of Connor Marino’s from America without his permission.”

His eyes clouded. He bit the inside of his jaw.

He looked down at the paper.

Then he ripped it in half, in fourths, and tossed the pieces over his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” She took his hand and moved it down to her stomach. Wordlessly she stared into his eyes.

His brow furrowed. “What?” Then his eyes widened. “It didn’t happen!”

“Oh yes it did. I’ve been wondering if we’re the first people to conceive at Camp David.”

This time, Connor cried.

This time, Calla scrubbed his cheeks and met her forehead with his. Whispered something in his ear. Then Connor kissed his soon-to-be bride.