Chapter 259 Chapter 259

Chapter 259 Chapter 259

Lauren stood in front of the full-length mirror in Honey's guest room, staring at her reflection.

The dress was simple. Ivory lace over silk, tea-length, fitted at the waist but not too tight. Elegant without being ostentatious. Exactly what she'd wanted. She had wanted simple.

Her hair was down in soft waves, a few pieces pinned back with small pearl clips. Minimal makeup, just enough to look polished without looking overdone. In the photos, she wanted to look like her.

"You look beautiful," Honey said from behind her.

Lauren turned. Honey and Maggie stood in the doorway, both of them already dressed, Honey in deep green, Maggie in navy blue. Her bridesmaids. Her best friends. The women who'd stood by her through everything. She'd let the women pick their own dresses and colors.

"I look really terrified," Lauren said honestly.

"You look like a bride," Maggie corrected, crossing to adjust Lauren's necklace. A simple pendant that had belonged to her grandmother. Something old. "Having that wide-eyed look is all part of the process. Well, so I'm told."

"I'm not terrified of marrying him." Lauren looked back at her reflection. "I'm terrified of... everything else. The media circus outside. The fact that we're getting married three months after I killed someone. The reality that this should be the happiest day of my life, and part of me is just numb, sort of." The media had been relentless, wanting her story. She had let Officer Clark handle everything. Never giving an interview.

"That's the trauma talking," Maggie said gently. She understood these things. "And it's okay to feel that way. You don't have to be perfectly happy. What happened doesn't make you any less human, and you may never get over it, but that's okay. Taking a life shouldn't be easy."

"Dr. Brown said the same thing." Lauren smiled slightly. "She also said it's normal to compartmentalize joy and trauma. That I'm allowed to be happy even while I'm still healing."

"Smart woman," Honey said. She moved to stand beside Lauren, their reflections side by side in the mirror. "You know what I see when I look at you?"

"What?"

"Someone who survived. Someone who fought back. Someone who refused to be a victim." Honey's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You're the strongest person I know, Lauren. And today, you're marrying someone who sees that strength and loves you for it. You have a right to be happy."

"He does, doesn't he?" Lauren felt her own eyes getting damp. "God, I love him so much. Sometimes it scares me how much. It happened so fast."

"That's not scary." Maggie squeezed her shoulder. "That's beautiful. You found love in the middle of the worst time of your life. That's something to celebrate."

A knock on the door. Prue poked her head in, smiling. "Y'all ready? It's time."

Lauren took a breath. Nodded. "I'm ready."

They'd chosen Honey and Grayson's place for the ceremony. Private, intimate, and gated. The media had tried to make a circus of it... actress who shot serial killer marries bodyguard, but Wyatt and Nate had shut that down hard. No press. No photos. Just their small circle of people who mattered.

The garden had been transformed. White chairs set up in rows, flowers everywhere, soft music playing. Maybe thirty people total. That was it. That was all they needed.

Lauren stood just inside the back doors, her hand in Honey's on one side, Maggie's on the other. Through the doorway, she could see Wyatt standing at the front with Nate beside him. Both men in dark suits, both looking nervous and happy and ready.

Wyatt turned, sensing her presence, and their eyes met.

Everything else fell away.

The music changed. Something soft and sweet that Lauren had chosen weeks ago. Everyone stood.

Lauren walked down the makeshift aisle on her own. No father to give her away. He'd died when she was eight. No need for that tradition anyway. She was giving herself to Wyatt. Her choice. Her decision. He was her future.

Wyatt's eyes never left hers as she approached. When she reached him, he took her hands, and his were shaking slightly.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi yourself." His voice was rough with emotion. "You're beautiful."

"You're not so bad yourself. I have to say, you scrub up real nice."

The officiant cleared his throat, smiling. "We're gathered here today..."

Lauren barely heard the words. She was too focused on Wyatt. On his hands holding hers. On his eyes that were bright with unshed tears. On the knowledge that in a few minutes, she'd be his wife and he'd be her husband and they'd face whatever came next together.

The vows came too quickly. Wyatt said his without breaking a sweat, and she felt like kicking him. But she was too busy crying.

Her voice cracked as she said her own, but she pushed through when it.

"I promise to love you with everything I have. I promise to trust you—with my safety, my heart, my life. I promise to face the bad days knowing you're beside me and celebrate the good ones knowing you're the reason they're possible. I promise to build a future with you that is defined by love and joy and hope. Today and always."

The officiant smiled, tears in his own eyes now. "By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—"

Wyatt didn't wait for him to finish. He pulled Lauren into his arms and kissed her like they were the only two people in the world.

The small crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were crying and laughing and overwhelmed. Wyatt pressed his forehead to hers.

"Mrs. Heywood," he murmured.

"Mr. Heywood." Lauren smiled through her tears. "Lauren Heywood. Has a nice ring to it."

"Better than nice." He kissed her again, softer this time. "Perfect."

The reception was everything Lauren had hoped for. Small, intimate, full of love and laughter. It was relaxed; neither of them wanted formal.

They cut a cake that was too big for thirty people. Danced to music that made everyone smile. Listened to toasts from Nate and Honey that had everyone crying again.

"To survival," Honey said, raising her glass. "To strength. To Lauren, who taught us all what it means to fight back. And to Wyatt, who saw her strength before the rest of us did. May your marriage be filled with joy, peace, and a whole lot less drama than the last three months."

Everyone laughed and drank and celebrated.

Emma stood slightly apart from the festivities, a champagne flute in her hand that she hadn't touched. The soft glow of string lights illuminated the garden where Lauren and Wyatt danced, surrounded by friends who were genuinely happy for them.

She should be happy too. Was happy, really. Lauren deserved this. Deserved love and safety and a future after everything she'd been through.

But watching them together, seeing Wyatt's arms around Lauren, seeing the way they looked at each other. It carved out a deeper hole in Emma's chest.

Daniel should be here.

He would have loved this. Would have pulled her onto the dance floor despite her protests. Would have made terrible jokes about Wyatt being whipped and Lauren having him wrapped around her finger. Would have held Emma close during the slow songs and whispered inappropriate things in her ear just to make her laugh.

But Daniel was gone. Had been gone for just over three months now. Three months since the Marines had shown up at her door with their dress blues and their practiced sympathy and their devastating news.

Killed in action.

Three words that had shattered her entire world.

Emma took a breath, trying to push back the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She'd gotten better at hiding it. Better at putting on a smile when people asked how she was doing. Better at saying "I'm fine" even when she was anything but.

Grayson had been worried about her coming today. Had offered to stay home with her, skip the wedding, but Emma had refused. Lauren was her friend. She wasn't going to miss this just because her own heart was broken.

She could handle a few hours. Could smile and laugh and pretend she wasn't dying inside. Could celebrate love even while mourning the loss of her own.

"You doing okay?" Prue appeared beside her.

"I'm fine," Emma said automatically.

"Emma, you're standing alone at a wedding looking like someone kicked your puppy. That's not fine."

Emma managed a small smile. "I'm just... it's hard. Watching them. Being happy for them while also—"

"Missing Daniel." Prue squeezed her hand. "I know. But he'd want you here. He'd want you celebrating with friends."

"I know." Emma's throat tightened. "Doesn't make it easier. It's too soon."

"Nothing about grief is easy." Prue's eyes were kind. "But you're here. That's what matters. You showed up for your friend even when it hurts. That takes a lot of strength."

Emma nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Come on," Prue said gently. "Let's get you a fresh drink. This one's warm anyway."

They moved toward the bar area set up near the house. Emma set down her untouched champagne and accepted a glass of wine instead. Something to hold. Something to do with her hands so they wouldn't shake.

"I'll be back in a minute," Prue said. "Nate's giving me that look that says he needs me. Are you okay for a minute?"

"I'm good. Go."

Prue squeezed her shoulder once more, then disappeared into the crowd.

Emma stood there, wine glass in hand, watching Lauren and Wyatt cut the cake. Everyone gathered around, taking photos, laughing. The perfect wedding moment. She wanted this with the one man beyond her reach now. She felt like he had ripped her heart out and taken it with him.

Emma turned away, needing a moment. She headed back toward the garden, toward the quieter area away from the celebration, just needing to breathe. To not have to smile. To not have to pretend she was okay when she was falling apart.

She made it three steps before she saw him.

Standing near the garden entrance, partially in shadow, wearing a dark suit.

Her dead fiancé.

The wine glass slipped from her fingers.

It shattered on the stone patio, the sound sharp and jarring, cutting through the music and laughter. Several people turned to look.

But Emma couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything except stare.

Because there, not ten feet away, looking exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him three months ago, was Captain Daniel Morris.

Alive.

"Emma?" His voice. That voice she'd heard in her dreams, in her memories, in every quiet moment when grief became too much to bear.

She hadn't realized she moved closer until she reached out with a shaking hand, half-expecting him to disappear. To be a hallucination brought on by stress and grief and too much emotion.

Her fingers connected with solid chest. Warm. Real. Breathing.

Real.

Emma's knees buckled.

She heard gasps behind her. Heard someone—Grayson maybe—shout her name. Heard footsteps running toward her.

His arms caught her before she hit the ground.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Emma, I've got you. I'm here. I'm real. I'm—"

Everything went black.