The wedding was small.
City Hall again, but different this time. No contract. No witnesses who'd signed NDAs. Just people who mattered.
My mother cried before it started. "My baby. Getting married. For real this time."
"Mom, I've been married for almost a year."
"This one counts." She waved her handkerchief. "This one is love."
Evelyn was maid of honor. She'd spent the morning doing my hair, my makeup, calming my nerves. We stood in the bedroom of the penthouse, the city sprawling beyond the windows, and she held my hands.
"You ready for this?" she asked.
"I've been ready. I just didn't know it."
"And him? Is he ready?"
I thought about Declan. About the man who'd started as a contract and become everything. About the way he looked at me, the way he held me, the way he'd said I love you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Yeah," I said. "He's ready."
Margaret appeared in the doorway. "It's time."
We'd decided on City Hall for the ceremony. Small. Simple. Meaningful.
But when I walked into the lobby, I stopped.
It wasn't City Hall.
It was a small chapel. Old. Beautiful. Stained glass windows. Wooden pews. Flowers everywhere.
"What is this?" I turned to Margaret.
"Mr. Kane's idea." She smiled. "He wanted something real. Something you'd remember."
I walked inside.
Declan waited at the altar. Dark suit. White flower in his lapel. When he saw me, his face changed.
"You look" He couldn't finish.
"I look what?"
"Impossible." He took my hands. "You look impossible."
The ceremony was short. A real officiant this time, not Margaret with an internet ordination. Vows we'd written ourselves.
His made me cry.
"Olivia. I spent my whole life believing I wasn't capable of love. That something in me was broken. That I'd always be alone." His voice shook. "Then you threw wine at me in your imagination, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. You signed a contract to marry me, and I couldn't stop wanting more. You held me after nightmares, and I couldn't stop needing you."
He squeezed my hands.
"I love you. Not because I have to. Not because of a contract. Because you're the first person who ever saw me really saw me and stayed anyway. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that."
I was crying. He was crying. Everyone was crying.
My turn.
"Declan. I came into this arrangement thinking I knew what I was getting. Money. Security. A year of playing pretend." I wiped my eyes. "What I got instead was a man who makes coffee in the morning and remembers how I take it. A man who learned to cook my mother's dumplings because he knew it would make me happy. A man who holds me in the dark and makes me feel like I'm not alone."
I squeezed his hands.
"I love you. Not in spite of who you are because of it. Because you're kind and broken and trying so hard. Because you let me in. Because you trusted me with the parts of yourself you hide from everyone else."
I took a breath.
"I'm not going anywhere. Contract or no contract. Ever."
The officiant smiled. "By the power vested in me by the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife. For real this time."
Declan kissed me. Long and slow and perfect.
When we pulled apart, my mother was sobbing. Evelyn was cheering. Margaret was taking pictures on her phone.
"Happy?" Declan asked.
"Completely."
The reception was at the penthouse.
Small. Intimate. My mother's cooking filled the space with smells I'd grown up with. Evelyn's terrible playlist provided the soundtrack. Margaret had chosen wine that paired perfectly with everything.
We danced in the living room, the city glittering beyond the windows.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For the chapel. For the flowers. For making this real."
He kissed my forehead. "You made it real. I just provided the venue."
I laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I do."
My mother found us later, on the balcony.
"I wanted to say something." She looked at Declan. "To you."
He straightened. Nervous. "Of course."
"When Olivia was little, her father used to say that she'd find someone extraordinary. Someone who would love her the way she deserved to be loved." Her eyes filled. "I didn't believe him. I thought he was just being a father. Hopeful. Blind."
She took Declan's hands.
"But then I met you. And I watched you with her. The way you look at her. The way you listen. The way you try." She smiled. "He would have loved you."
Declan's eyes were wet. "Thank you."
"No. Thank you." She hugged him. "For loving my daughter. For being worth her love."
After she left, Declan pulled me close.
"Your mother," he said quietly.
"I know."
"She's everything mine wasn't."
"She's yours now too." I held him tighter. "We both are."
Evelyn found us an hour later, slightly drunk and very emotional.
"You guys." She waved her wine glass. "You guys are, like, the most romantic thing I've ever seen. And I watch a lot of rom-coms."
"Thanks, Ev."
"I mean it." She hugged us both at once. "Don't screw this up. Either of you. You're perfect together."
"We won't," Declan said.
"You better not. I know where you live."
She wandered off, still waving her wine glass.
I laughed. "She's something."
"She's your something." He kissed my head. "I love that about you. The people you choose. The family you've built."
"You're part of that family now."
"I know." He smiled. "Best contract I ever signed."
Later, after everyone left, we stood on the balcony.
The city spread below us, a million lights, a million lives. I leaned against him, his arms around me, his chin on my shoulder.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now we live. Finally, actually, we live."
"We've been living."
"Now we really live." He turned me to face him. "No more contracts. No more arrangements. Just us."
"Just us."
He kissed me. Soft. Slow. Perfect.
"I love you, Olivia Kane."
"I love you too, Declan Kane."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
The next morning, I woke in his arms.
His bed. His room. His chest rising and falling beneath my cheek. For a moment, I just watched him sleep.
He looked different in sleep. Softer. Younger. The walls were down, the armor gone. Just a man, breathing, alive, mine.
His eyes opened.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
"How long have you been watching me?"
"Not long."
"Liar."
I smiled. "Maybe a little."
He pulled me closer. Kissed my hair. "This is nice."
"What is?"
"Waking up with you. Knowing you'll still be here tonight. Tomorrow. Next week."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I know." He kissed me. "That's what makes it perfect."
We had breakfast together. Real breakfast, not the rushed coffee of before. He made pancakes. They were terrible. I ate them anyway.
"We should do this every day," he said.
"We do."
"I mean really do it. Not rushing. Not working. Just—this."
"Just us?"
"Just us."
I reached across the table, took his hand. "I'd like that."
"Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Margaret called at noon.
"The Tribune story is still getting attention. Interviews. Requests. People want to hear from you."
Declan looked at me. "What do you think?"
"I think we should do it. One interview. Tell our story our way."
He nodded. "Agreed. But only one."
"Only one," Margaret agreed. "I'll set it up."
After she hung up, Declan pulled me close.
"Ready to be famous?"
"Not even a little."
"Good. Me neither." He kissed me. "We'll face it together."
"Together."