Chapter 264

Chapter 264
Aiden

I didn’t think my heart had the capacity to fall apart that many times in one day.

But it did.

Over and over again.

From the second Noah walked through those chapel doors, to the vows, to the kiss, to the song that shattered me open in front of everyone—my chest had been one long, unbroken tremor of emotion. And yet somehow, by the time we made it to the reception, there was still more of it left inside me.

More joy.
More gratitude.
More love than I had ever known what to do with.

We spent most of the afternoon doing what polite, functional human beings apparently do after getting married: hosting. Hugging. Laughing. Thanking our guests for making the trip all the way to New Orleans to watch two men who’d crawled through hell finally get to choose forever.

I lost count of how many times someone squeezed my shoulder and told me how proud they were of us. Or how many times someone hugged Noah, and he buried his face into their neck for a few seconds like the emotions had overflowed again.

And between all of that—the whirlwind of smiles and clinking glasses and music—we kept finding each other.

Just small things.

His fingers brushing mine when he passed behind me, a kiss to my lips here and there, our eyes catching across the room and lingering far too long.

“I’m married to you,” he whispered at one point, leaning close, like it was a secret he still couldn’t believe.

“Yes,” I murmured back. “You are.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

“Gladly.”

He grinned. I melted. Nothing new.

The venue was perfect—warm lights, soft colors, the kind of place where laughter felt right. We danced, slowly at first, then less slowly when Micah decided the party required “actual energy” and dragged Lexie into the middle of the floor with him. Margaret cried at least four more times. Emily nearly tackled Noah with affection.

And every now and then someone asked the inevitable:

“So, where’s the honeymoon?”

I smiled each time because I liked having the answer.

“Positano,” I said. “Amalfi Coast.”

More than one person sighed like we’d told them we were spending a week inside a fairy tale.

It felt right. Romantic. Secluded. Sun-washed and ancient and beautiful—the kind of place you go when you want to exist nowhere but in each other’s orbit for a while. And with Noah’s NFL schedule, five days over the Fourth of July weekend was a miracle already. We were taking them and vanishing.

He kept leaning against my side whenever someone mentioned it.

“Four more full days from tomorrow,” he’d whisper. “Just us.”

“Yes. Just us.”

And I meant it with my whole soul.

At some point, the crowd thinned a little. Not gone—just calmer. Quieter. That early-evening glow settling in. 

Keon reached us with his hands still shoved in his pockets, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. His voice wasn’t loud when he spoke—just steady, a little rough at the edges.

“Hey. I just wanted to say… I’m really happy for you guys. Both of you.”

Noah’s smile faltered—just a flicker of guilt moving through it.
“Keon…once again, I’m really sorry about what happened.”

And just like that, a shadow of the past brushed the edge of the moment—not enough to ruin it, just enough to remind us it had happened.

The last time we’d all been in Texas together, tensions had snapped.

I still remembered Keon standing in our rental living room—shoulders tight, jaw clenched—looking straight at Noah.

“Is it true?” he’d asked.

Noah had gone still. “Keon…”

“No,” Keon pushed, voice cracking with anger. “Answer me. Is it true you had sex with my girlfriend in front of a fucking crowd and failed to tell me?”

Noah’s eyes had softened with pain. “It…wasn’t like that. And I didn’t even know she’d be yours someday. She wasn’t back then—”

“I don’t care about timing!” Keon exploded. “What matters is you knew. All of you knew. Everyone had seen her naked, and somehow I was the only idiot who didn’t.”

He’d just found out about Luna’s past—about the club. And it had landed like betrayal.

I’d stepped in then, calm because one of us needed to be.

“Keon. It was a scene. One time. Part of the dynamic we were in back then. And by the time we realized she was your girlfriend…it wasn’t our news to reveal. It was hers.”

He’d shaken his head. Hurt more than angry.

“You were my friends. It sure as hell felt like it was your place.”

Eventually, the storm had eased. Words softened. Perspective came. Luna had admitted the truth—including the guilt she carried. And in the end, the issue wasn’t really about us.
It was about them, and what they could—or couldn’t—live with.

They broke up quietly some time after. And somewhere along the way, friendship found its way through the cracks.

Now, back in the glow of our wedding reception, Noah nodded.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For being here. For real. It means a lot.”

Keon exhaled, then gave this small, lopsided smile.

“I wouldn’t miss it, bro. What happened…it wasn’t really your fault. Any of you. I just couldn’t deal with the whole club thing. She didn’t want to give it up. And that’s okay. It’s her life. We’re still friends.”

He paused—then added with a shrug. “And Miguel’s been an awesome support. Total rock. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately…”

Noah and I both…may have raised the same eyebrow.

Keon rolled his eyes.
“Relax. Just saying—he’s been there.” But the almost unnoticeable grin remained.

Then his expression softened.
“I just hope someday I’m even half as happy as you two are. You deserve it. All of it.”

He pulled Noah into a hug first—tight, brother-strong—then me. I clapped his back and meant it when I whispered,
“You will be.”

And when he stepped away, there was peace where the tension used to live. Which was all we’d ever wanted.

Eventually the sky dipped toward evening, and it felt like the right moment—that sweet, gentle transition from celebration…to the rest of our lives.

We gathered everyone close enough to hear without shouting. I wrapped my arm around Noah’s waist, and he leaned into me like he’d been built for that space.

“Thank you,” I said, meaning every syllable. “For coming all this way. For loving us. For seeing us through everything it took to get here. Please, enjoy yourselves and know that we both love you all as the amazing family you are.”

Applause. Laughter. A few sniffles.

Then, I made my way toward Hale.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me with that steady gaze of his—proud. A little misty, not that he’d admit it.

I pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” I murmured quietly, so it was just for him. “For saving me when I needed saving. For being my family. My friend. My business partner. For…everything.”

His hand came up between my shoulder blades and rested there—solid, grounding.

“Always,” he said.

We stepped back, and he gave Noah the same hug—that rare soft Hale expression only a handful ever got to see.

Then he cleared his throat and smirked.

“Now get out of here,” he said. “Go enjoy your honeymoon. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Yes, Sir,” Noah said with a crooked grin.

And just like that—we were off.

We slipped away with a wave and a last round of hugs, climbed into our ribbon-decorated car (courtesy of Micah’s chaotic heart), and drove into the warm New Orleans night. Our bags had been packed for a week—because Noah didn’t trust me not to forget socks—and we rolled them into a quiet little hotel suite barely two minutes from the airport.

We shut the door.
Looked at each other.
And burst into the kind of ridiculous, giddy laughter that only comes when your heart is too full for anything else.

“My husband,” he said, touching my face.

“My forever,” I answered. Cheesy as fuck, but so true!

We didn’t sleep much, obviously.
Making love, kissing, cuddling, making love once again… enjoying our overwhelming happiness.
The kind that makes you want to hold onto every second.

And at dawn—sleepy, messy-haired, and still grinning like idiots—we headed for our early flight.

Italy. Sun. Sea. Just us.

Our first adventure as husbands.
And somehow…it felt like the beginning all over again.