Chapter 62 HELLO MR & MRS

Chapter 62 HELLO MR & MRS
I woke up to the sound of actual silence. No vibrating phone, no my mom yelling about guest lists, no sisters trying to film a transition video in my face. Just… quiet.
The light coming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows was that soft, golden kind of sun that makes everything look like it has a filter on it. I stayed still for a second, my eyes still closed, feeling the insanely high-thread-count sheets against my skin. It felt like I was floating on a cloud that cost more than a semester of college.
Then, I felt a weight on my waist.
I opened one eye and saw a tanned hand resting over my stomach. And there it was. The gold band on his ring finger. It looked so right, so permanent, and so real.
I slowly turned my head and saw Rowan. He was still dead to the world, looking way too peaceful for someone who had spent the last year dodging villains and family drama. His hair was a mess, falling over his forehead, and he had that tiny, relaxed smile people only have when they’re actually happy.
I didn't move. I just stared at my own hand. My diamond was catching the morning sun, throwing little rainbows all over the white duvet.
Althea Pierce.
It sounded like a name from a movie. But it was me. I was a whole wife. We were a whole married couple. The "Simmons-Pierce" era had officially transitioned into the "Just Us" era, and honestly? It was the best vibe shift of my life.
The Breakfast Situation 🥞
I must have moved a little too much because I heard a low, sleepy chuckle.
"You're staring again," Rowan mumbled, his eyes still closed.
"I am not," I lied, quickly looking at the ceiling. "I was just… checking the architecture of this room. It’s very impressive."
Rowan finally opened his eyes, squinting at the light. He pulled me closer, burying his face in my neck. "Mm-hmm. Sure. You were totally checking out the ceiling and not my wedding ring."
"Okay, fine," I laughed, turning around to face him. "It’s just weird! Like, we actually did it. We survived the final boss and got the trophy."
"I’m the trophy?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Obviously. But you’re a high-maintenance trophy," I poked his nose. "I’m hungry. What’s the move for breakfast?"
Rowan sat up, stretching his arms. "The move is you stay right here. Do not look at a screen. Do not think about the outside world. I am going to handle the food."
"You? In a kitchen?" I raised an eyebrow. "Rowan, the last time you tried to make toast, you almost triggered the sprinklers in your apartment."
"That was a different Rowan," he said, hopping out of bed and grabbing a linen shirt. "That was 'Stressed Fiancé' Rowan. 'Honeymoon Husband' Rowan is basically a Michelin-star chef. Just wait."
He leaned down and gave me a quick, soft kiss before heading out the door. I leaned back against the pillows, feeling that "main character" energy radiating through my whole body.
The Vow Re-Read 📖
While he was gone, I reached over to the nightstand and saw two small, velvet booklets. Our vows.
Yesterday was such a blur of white roses and cheering people that I felt like I hadn't fully processed the words we said. I opened mine first. My handwriting was a little shaky because I’d written them the night before the wedding, sitting in my mom’s garden while she was busy yelling at a caterer.
“I promise to be the person you can always come home to,” I’d written. “No matter how loud the world gets, I will be your quiet.”
I felt a lump in my throat. We had been through so much noise. JC, Alan, the fake identities, the baby swaps… it was all so loud. But standing at that altar, looking at Rowan, it felt like the volume had been turned down to zero.
I opened Rowan’s book. His handwriting was neat, bold, and very "him."
“Althea, I spent a long time running from my past. But when I met you, I realized I wasn't running anymore. I was walking toward something. I was walking toward you. I promise to protect your peace as much as I protect my own. I’m yours. For real. Forever.”
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. It was so simple, but after everything we’d dealt with, "for real" was the most romantic thing he could have said.
The Room Service (Sort Of) ☕
About thirty minutes later, the door creaked open. Rowan walked in carrying a massive silver tray. He looked very proud of himself, even though he had flour on his sleeve and he was walking like he was carrying a bomb.
"Behold," he said, placing the tray on the bed.
It was actually… impressive? There were pancakes (mostly round), fresh strawberries, scrambled eggs that didn't look burnt, and two perfectly iced coffees with the exact amount of oat milk I like.
"Wait," I said, squinting at the pancakes. "Did you actually make these or did you sneak a chef into the villa?"
"I made them!" he defended, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Okay, fine, the chef showed me where the pan was, but I did the flipping. Only dropped one. It was a tragedy."
We sat there in the middle of the bed, eating breakfast and just talking. For the first time in a year, we weren't talking about "strategies" or "legal stuff."
"So," I said, dipping a strawberry in some whipped cream. "What are we doing today? No pressure, but I heard there’s a boat with our names on it."
"The move for today is absolutely nothing," Rowan said. "We are going to go to the pool. We are going to read books. We are going to take naps. And then, we’re going to have dinner on the beach. No phones allowed."
"I think I can handle that," I smiled.
The "Normal" Talk 🏠
As we finished eating, the conversation drifted to the future. Not the big, scary "Legacy" future my mom is always talking about, but the small stuff.
"I was thinking," Rowan said, leaning back against the headboard. "About the house. I want to redo the backyard. Make it more of a hangout spot. Maybe get a dog? A big, goofy one that doesn't care about social status."
"A Golden Retriever?" I suggested. "One that will just sit on your lap even though he’s sixty pounds?"
"Exactly. A dog that just wants treats and vibes," Rowan laughed. "And I was thinking about your office. You should finally start that interior design firm you’ve been talking about. No more 'assisting' Isabella. It’s your turn to be the boss."
I looked at him, feeling that warm glow in my chest again. He always knew exactly what I wanted before I even said it. He didn't want me to be just "The Simmons-Pierce Wife." He wanted me to be me.
"I'd like that," I whispered. "I'd really like that."
The Sunset Walk 🌅
Fast forward a few hours, and the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The sky was a mix of pink, orange, and purple—totally "Pinterest-worthy," as Rose would say.
We walked down to the private beach in front of our villa. The sand was warm, and the water was lapping at our feet. I had my silk wrap on, and Rowan was just in board shorts, looking way too good for his own safety.
We walked in silence for a while, just holding hands. The wedding ring felt heavy and light at the same time.
"Althea?" he said, stopping and turning me to face him.
"Yeah?"
"I'm really happy."
It was such a simple sentence, but it meant everything. After the years of guilt he carried about his dad, and the weeks of stress over Alan and JC, hearing him say he was happy felt like the ultimate win.
"Me too," I said, leaning my head on his chest. "I feel like I can finally breathe. Like I don't have to keep looking over my shoulder."
"You don't," he promised, kissing the top of my head. "The drama is over. We’re in the end credits now. The part where everyone is happy and the music is good."
I looked out at the ocean, the waves glowing in the sunset. I thought about everything that had happened. The fear, the anger, the confusion. It all felt so far away now. It was just a story we would tell one day.
The villains were gone. The secrets were out. And the girl who used to be scared of her own reflection was now standing on a beach with her husband, ready for whatever came next.
"Rowan?" I looked up at him.
"Yeah?"
"Don't get used to the breakfast in bed thing. Tomorrow is my turn, and I actually know how to use an oven."
He laughed, pulling me into a hug as the last of the sun disappeared. "I’m counting on it, Mrs. Pierce."
The Simmons-Pierce era was officially in full swing. And for the first time in my life, I knew that the "Happily Ever After" wasn't just a line in a book. It was our actual life.
And it was going to be iconic.