Six hours later, and I was eating lunch in Midtown. I took a room at the Yale Club, with whom Cambridge had a reciprocal relationship, and set up office. Trevor had sent me a prenup, which I’d promptly tossed to the side. I understood the risks and the ramifications, but I’d also meant what I said. If anything ever happened, I’d want Lydia to have half. Fuck it—she could have it all. And I wanted to be making that decision while I felt this way, not if or when I was angry with her about something. That woman was the love of my fucking life, and I knew in my goddamn bones that she was a good person, the best kind of person. And I already owed her my fucking life. So fuck that. No prenup.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of how hard a time she’d have adjusting to having money though. Christ, as it was I’d already gotten several texts from Daphne about my girl’s asinine stubbornness. I’d sent them to Barneys and arranged for Lydia to see a personal shopper. I’d called ahead, given them my credit card, and instructed them not to let her know the price of any of the dresses or accessories. I wanted her to pick the clothes she wanted to wear. I knew she’d tried to weasel it out of them, and at one point she texted me from Daphne’s phone trying to suss out if I’d set a price limit. I hadn’t, and I saw right through her. I loved this side of her, but I also loved the idea of taking away the worry that lay beneath all that stubbornness.

I thought of that apartment, of our Brooklyn day and how she’d been so conscious of saving, giving, and it thrilled me to know she’d never have to worry about money again. She had no idea, but I’d tasked Thomas with arranging for a joint bank account and second credit cards to be rushed in her name. Now that we were going to be a team, I wanted her to understand as quickly as possible that we were in all of this together. But I still couldn’t wait for the moment she called me because she saw her bank balance—it made me smile every time. She’d have a complete fit. She’d get sassy and fight me. Then I’d bring her right back to me. It was going to be fucking adorable, and sexy as hell.

In the meantime I just had to make it until four. I’d also arranged for her and Daphne to go to the spa and booked a room at the Pierre, where they could get ready. And Daphne was supposed to text me about anything else they needed.

The fax machine started to hum, and I saw the signed waiver slide through the printer. I couldn’t believe we still used these archaic things, but at the moment I was completely grateful. That judicial waiver was the one thing standing between me and making Lydia my wife.

I had one more thing I needed to do before slipping into my own newly purchased clothes—the suit I’d bought at Barneys had been delivered and was hanging in the closet, waiting.

The phone rang several times before anyone answered. Unsurprising for a bar at one in the afternoon.

“Great Lakes,” said the man on the other end in a gruff well-worn New York accent.

“May I speak with Jake Ritter please.”

“Speaking.”

“Jake, my name is Dylan Hale, and this afternoon I’m intending to marry someone I understand you know well. Lydia Bell.”

“Hey, Rhodes!” the voice excitedly shouted into the room on the other end of the line. “Get your sorry ass in here. I have an Englishman on the phone who says he’s marrying Rick’s daughter.”

“Sir—”

“Hold your horses, fancy pants. This is a family matter,” Jake said into the phone before shouting back into the room. “You heard me…Lydia, you sorry ass. What other daughter did Rick have? Get over here!”

I was immediately glad I’d called, and when both men were on the phone, I told them exactly what I had planned.

At three thirty I sat in the lobby of the Pierre. I’d settled the tab, given instructions to have the girls’ belongings brought from the room to the car, and now I was waiting. I was waiting for my bride. How this had happened, I’d never fully understand. It’s not like I’d sat around imagining my wedding day. Fuck, a year ago I didn’t even think I’d have a wedding. Ever. For a decade I’d seen relationships as an impossibility, hadn’t even entertained the possibility of building anything with anyone. And now, here I was. It was monumental, bizarre if you knew me. And there was only one person, other than Lydia, who truly knew me, and suddenly I was sad he wasn’t there. I picked up my phone and texted Will.

My phone immediately started ringing.

“What in the bloody hell?” Will did not sound drunk. He liked to talk a big game, but I had no doubt he would actually be home by eleven. Lately he’d been acting even more like an old man.

“You heard me.” I was enjoying this already. “I’m in New York.”

“And you two are getting married today?”

“We are.” Just saying it out loud to my best mate made it real.

“Fucking hell. Were you going to invite me, you daft prick?”

“It was a bit spur-of-the-moment idea. We’ll have a proper do when we get back, after we deal with the wrath of the dowager.”

“Aww, shite. I’d pay to see that conversation.” I winced, recognizing just how miserable that was going to be. “Well look, mate, happy wishes. Lydia’s perfect for you. Not to mention hotter than hell.”

“Hey—”

“Aww, come on. She is. You’re going to have to get used to men talking about how gorgeous your wife is.”

At that moment, the elevator dinged, and I knew it would be her.

“Gotta go, Will. I’ll kick your ass for that comment when I get back.” I could hear him speaking into the phone but I hung up. All of my attention was now on Lydia.

Christ. She was wearing a dress that somehow made her look both conservative and sweet and so insanely sexy I didn’t think I could get through the next few hours. It was all ivory and silk and made her look a fucking dream. There were tulips, peonies, an entire English garden crawling up the silken fabric, gathering at the tiny tailored waist and somehow emphasizing her breasts hidden behind the scooped neckline. She was wearing a sweet navy jacket on top and wild blue heels that made her legs look fucking endless. Her hair was down, soft, perfect. Elegant and traditional with just a hint of rebellion. She was my girl.

She looked around and then her eyes landed on me, and I knew I was smiling like a goddamn virgin. This woman. How did she render me so fucking defenseless?

I rose, buttoned my jacket, and went to her. I took her hands in mine, and my finger grazed her bracelet. I looked down to see the diamond cuff I’d bought her the night everything went to shite the previous year at the palace.

“It’s my favorite,” she whispered, and only then did I realize I was thumbing it, shifting up her wrist.

“You’re stunning.” I looked into her brown eyes and watched as the blush spread from her chest to her cheeks, like I knew it would. It always did when I made her realize how I looked at her. How I saw her.

I broke the moment to kiss Daphne on the cheeks. “Thank you, Daphne.” Even Daphne blushed. Christ—we hadn’t even left the hotel, and these girls were already on the edge of tears.

We rode down Broadway in the car, and I kept Lydia’s hand in mine the whole time. Daphne prattled on about their day, but I couldn’t process a word. If I wasn’t looking at Lydia’s legs, crossed demurely in the footwell next to mine, then I was looking at her face. Fuck, I loved this woman. She caught me looking at her and squeezed my hand, lacing her fingers with my own.

When the car pulled up in front of the stately building downtown, I let Daphne exit the car, but I pulled Lydia all the way onto my lap.

“You ready for this, baby?”

She bit her lip, and it was then I noticed her eyes were glassy. “Damsel, what is it?” She shook her head, but I caught a tear slip past. I brushed it away with my thumb and took her face in my hands. She needed to look at me. “Lydia, talk to me.”

She took a deep inhale. “I just wish…I wish my dad could have met you. I wish he could know that I am getting married. That I love you. That you love me. That…that I’m so happy.”

Her eyes cast down into her lap again. “Look at me.” I tilted her chin with my finger. “Are you sure you want to do this? Do you want to wait?”

She shook her head without hesitation. “No. No more waiting.”

I nodded and held her against me. “You’re brave, beautiful, and absolutely brilliant. I’m sure he wished he could have been here too. But I’ve no doubt in my mind that he knew you’d find your way.”

She nodded into my shoulder, and I kissed the top of her head. I sighed deeply as the reality of that moment sank into me. For the rest of my life I’d do anything in my power to make sure Rick Bell’s daughter was the most loved woman on earth.