CHAPTER 101

CHAPTER 101
"Cold feet?"

Tony's voice sliced through the soft hum of the lights overhead. I turned, already knowing it was him—no one else called my fear that and had such infuriating kindness.

"No," I said, placing a hand over my chest. "Just… thank ones."

The place was barely recognizable. Sonny Tenz—the bar where it all began—was now clad in string lights and gentle cream flowers, hovering candles suspended above glass bowls on the tables. No shattered glass. No jerseys soaked in sweat. No yells. Only a respectful hush, as if even the past had finally mastered whispering.

He stepped closer, that old sneer playing on his lips. He was still in black like armor, but tonight there was a gentleness in the roll of his sleeves, showing the faded scars that once scared me. The ones that I photographed without knowing the story of them.

"I didn't think I'd find you here alone," he said.

I smiled faintly. "Then you haven't been paying attention. I always go back to the scene of the crime."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah. You do.".

We stood here in silence for a moment surveying the room. Chairs sat neatly in a row, white ties tied at the edges like soft handcuffs. The arch, where tomorrow we would stand, was already constructed. A flower crown sat over the center like a halo we didn't deserve.

"I used to think I'd never step foot in here again without wanting to burn the place down," I whispered.

He moved closer to my shoulder, arms folded. "What happened?"

"You."

Tony lifted his eyebrows slightly, eyes on me. "Me?"

"You entered my mess and asked me to see. Not hide it. Not explain it. Just see."

His tone dropped lower. "And you stayed."

"I stayed," I told him, fighting through the ache in my throat. "Because leaving was killing me more than you ever had."

That drew a tiny smile. He sat down in a chair and stretched out his long legs like he had a right to the space between us. "You know," he whispered, "I still recall what you had on that night. Red hoodie. Your camera strap cutting into your neck like you were going to war.".

I laughed, and something soft something gave way in the quiet. "You knocked a drink out of Wells's hand and didn't even flinch when it hit you."

"That was an accident," he said, going along.

"Uh-huh," I teased. "And you didn't offer to kill me two hours later?"

He grinned, teeth cutting and genuine. "I think I said I was going to ruin it. Totally different.".

Well, I said, sweeping my eyes around the room, "you did keep your promise. You destroyed it. And built it up again from scratch."

Tony stood up again, walked over, and gently nudged me into a chair beside him. The air between us was thick with memory, but none of it hurt anymore. Not like it used to.

"I loathed you so much," he admitted, his voice low now. "Not for what you did—but for making me feel again after everything. For making me desire more than vengeance."

"You were frightening," I admitted. "Mad. Too big, too close. But I saw something."

His eyes met mine. "What was it?"

"A boy with bruised fists and a heart bigger than he cared to give to anyone. A man who lost not just his reputation. He lost everything."

Tony lowered his eyes for a second, blinking slowly. "You were right. I did."

"And yet," I panted, putting out my hand to lie on his wrist, "you let me take pictures of your scars."

He reached over and intertwined our fingers. "You were the only one who ever looked at them like they weren't the worst part of me."

A moment of silence.
Then two.

"I left you more times than I can count," I whispered.

"And chased you," he told me. "More times than I should've."

"You didn't chase. You stalked."

He smiled, his forehead pressing against mine for an instant. "Fair."

I leaned against him, looking around once again. The lights sparkled as though they were listening. Unreal—how something that was once violent had turned into the sacred. As if our love hadn't begun from a spark but from embers.

"We destroyed the good lives," I whispered.

Tony looked at me with a questioning nod of his head, scrunched-up brow. "What?"

I smiled into his shoulder. "The ones that kept us from being who we are.".

He didn't say anything at first. Just held me tighter around him. And amidst the silence, I remembered the girl who would beg the wind to make her disappear. The girl who did not breathe if a camera wasn't between her fingers and whose conscience slept under her skin like lead.

"I saw a therapist last week," I gasped.

He blinked. "You didn't tell me."

"I wanted to go alone. Wanted to know if I could talk without crying."

"And?"

"I did. Then I cried anyway."

Tony didn't smile. Just nodded, like he understood something deeper than language.

"I told her about my dad," I said. "About how his photos changed the world. And how mine… didn't. They just shattered it."

"Mac," Tony whispered, "you saved someone that night."

"I destroyed you."

No, he snarled. "You made me face what I'd kept hidden. You didn't shatter me. You uncovered me."

I closed my eyes, the warmth of his hand holding me fast. "I think I hated myself for needing you," I whispered. "For loving you after all that.".

He kissed the knuckles. "You think I didn't? There were nights I gazed at your string of pictures and wanted to punch a wall. But I couldn't look away. Because even when you portrayed me as the bad guy…" 

He spoke against my skin, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "That was never the idea."

"Neither was falling for you," he replied.

I turned to him once more. "You really believe we're ready for this? Marriage?"

Tony rose, pulling me up with him. "Check it out, Mac. This room? This building? We lived it."

We stood in the center of the floor now, the arch before us, the future just beyond it.

"I don't care if the whole world thinks we're wrong," he said to me. "We were wrong—once. We bled. But now? Now we know the weight of each other's names. We know what we're leaving behind."

I nodded slowly. "You're not scared?"

"I'm scared to death," he whispered, drawing a thumb over my face. "But I'd rather be scared with you than unafraid without you."

A tear ran down my cheek, but it was clean. Not loaded. Not stained with remorse or guilt. Just… honest.

"I'm going to say the wrong things," I warned.

"I'll call you out," he promised.

"I might shut down sometimes. Fall into myself."

"I'll wait outside the door until you let me in."

"I still don't know if I'm good enough for forever."

Tony pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You’re already mine. Forever just makes it legal.”