Chapter 176

Chapter 176
Sienna's POV

Three days after the Super Bowl, I stirred awake to find Hayes's side of the bed empty, the soft sound of his voice drifting in from the balcony. Through the glass doors, I could see him pacing, phone pressed to his ear, his free hand gesturing as he spoke in hushed, urgent tones.

I stretched languidly, my body still humming with satisfaction from last night's celebration. The Super Bowl trophy sat on our dresser, catching the morning light like a beacon of everything we'd fought to achieve together.

Hayes ended his call and stepped back inside, finding me watching him with a smile.

"Good morning, champion," I murmured, sitting up against the headboard. "Making calls this early?"

He crossed to the bed with that predatory grace that still made my pulse skip, settling beside me and pulling me against his chest.

"Just arranging some things," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple.

I tilted my head to study his face, anticipation building in my chest. Could it be the wedding he'd promised?

"What kind of things?" I needed to confirm this wasn't just wishful thinking on my part.

A mysterious smile played at the corners of Hayes's mouth. "Important things."

I couldn't help but laugh, giving his chest a playful pat. "Hayes Sterling, you're being evasive."

"Maybe," his eyes sparkled with mischief, but I caught the deeper current of emotion beneath. "Or maybe I'm just making sure I can deliver on a promise I made to someone last night."

My breath caught. So he did remember. He was actually serious about this.

"You remember what you promised me?" I asked tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hayes feigned confusion, his brow furrowing slightly. "What promise? I promised you a lot of things. Like making those blueberry pancakes you love for breakfast?"

I swatted his chest playfully, though my heart was racing. "Don't you dare forget."

His expression shifted instantly, becoming tender and serious as he caught the hand I'd just used to hit him, pressing it flat against his heartbeat. The playful lightness disappeared, replaced by an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

"How could I forget?" His voice dropped to that intimate register that made me feel like the only person in his universe. "My wedding planner is already on their way, Mrs. Sterling."

I blinked in surprise. "What? You've already started arranging things?"

"That's what the phone call was about," he smiled.

"I told you—whatever you want, I give you. And besides," he paused, his gray-blue eyes holding mine with fierce intensity, "I want the whole world to know you're my wife. Not because we already signed papers, but because I want to stand in front of everyone we care about and say 'I do' again. I want to hear you say it back."

Tears pricked at my eyes, emotion swelling in my chest until it felt too big to contain. "I want that too. I want to hear you say it again."

Hayes leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine in that gesture that had become our silent language of connection. "Then we're going to have the wedding you deserve, babe. The one I should have given you six years ago."

---

The following week was a whirlwind of organized chaos as both Silver Pine Valley and Sterling Manor transformed into command centers. Hayes mobilized his company's entire event coordination team alongside Aetheria's most exclusive wedding planners, with a single directive: cost was no object, perfection was the only acceptable outcome.

The manor's private chapel, with its soaring Gothic arches and jewel-toned stained glass, would host the ceremony. The rose gardens would serve as the cocktail reception area, while the cliff-side lawn overlooking the ocean was being fitted with a transparent glass pavilion for dinner and dancing. In the pavilion's center, the dance floor would feature a projection system displaying photos from our journey—high school memories, college years, our reunion, our courthouse wedding—turning our celebration into a visual love story.

But during those seven frantic days, I treasured most the quieter moments. Like the night I found myself staring at a blank notebook page at nearly ten o'clock, my pen hovering uselessly as I tried to write my vows. I'd written and crossed out a dozen opening lines, each one feeling inadequate to capture everything I wanted to say to Hayes in front of our family and friends.

Hayes appeared in the doorway carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, taking in my frustrated expression with an amused smile.

"Writer's block?" he asked, settling into the chair beside me.

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. "I don't know what to say. There's too much I want to tell you, but I'm afraid it won't come out right."

Hayes gently pulled my hands away from my face, his thumbs stroking across my knuckles. "Then just say what's in your heart, babe. It doesn't have to be perfect or poetic. It just has to be true."

I looked at him curiously. "What about you? Have you written yours yet?"

A mysterious smile played at the corners of his mouth as he pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket. "I have. But you don't get to see it until Saturday."

"That's not fair," I protested, trying to peek at the paper. "Give me a hint at least."

Hayes tucked the paper safely away, his expression growing tender. "I wrote about the words I couldn't say six years ago, and all the promises I want to make for our future."

My throat tightened with emotion. Hayes didn't press me to share my struggles; instead, he simply sat beside me in comfortable silence, occasionally reaching over to offer me hot chocolate or brush a strand of hair from my face. After another thirty minutes of writing and rewriting, I finally managed to fill a page with words that felt honest and true. When Hayes leaned over to peek, I quickly pressed the notebook to my chest.

"Nope! If you're keeping secrets, so am I."

We looked at each other and burst into laughter, the tension dissolving into playful competition.

"Fair enough," Hayes said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "I guess we'll just have to surprise each other."

The surprises kept coming. Two days later, I was at the manor reviewing floral arrangements when I heard Ed Sheeran's "Thinking Out Loud" drifting from the ballroom. Curious, I followed the melody and gently pushed open the heavy oak doors to find Hayes in the center of the polished dance floor with one of the city's premier ballroom instructors.

He was attempting to lead her through what was clearly meant to be our first dance, his movements careful but slightly awkward, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he caught sight of me in the doorway, he froze mid-turn, his cheeks actually flushing with embarrassment.

"Sienna. I... what are you doing here?"

I bit back a smile, stepping into the room. "I came to check on the centerpieces. What are you doing here?"

Hayes ran a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly caught. "I was... practicing. I didn't want to step on your feet during our first dance."

The vulnerability in his admission made my chest tight with affection. I suddenly remembered our prom, how we'd talked about dancing together. But we'd broken up two days before, and that dance never happened.

"You remember what you said senior year?" I asked softly, moving closer. "About wanting to dance with me at prom?"

Hayes's expression grew serious, regretful. "I remember. And I remember screwing it up. That's why I don't want to mess this up too."

I extended my hand to Hayes with a gentle smile. "Want to practice together?"

His fingers intertwined with mine, and he pulled me into proper dance position as the song began again. We moved slowly, carefully, finding our rhythm together. Hayes was actually quite good once he stopped overthinking every step.

"You know," I murmured as he spun me gently, "I never got that dance you promised me."

Hayes pulled me back against his chest, his voice rough with emotion. "I owe you more than just one dance, babe. But I promise—this time, I'm going to make it count."

I rested my head against his shoulder. "You've already given me more than I ever dreamed of."

"Not enough," he whispered against my hair. "It'll never be enough."