Chapter 214

Chapter 214
Stella:

Noah wore a tailored navy suit that made his eyes look impossibly blue, and when he saw me walking down the makeshift aisle, his expression crumpled into something so openly emotional that several people in the small crowd pulled out tissues.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered when I reached him, his hands shaking slightly as he took mine. "Not just today. Every day. But especially today."

I felt tears prick my eyes, my carefully applied mascara be damned. "You're going to make me cry before we even start."

"Good." His smile was watery but genuine. "I want you to feel everything. No more hiding."

The officiant—a friend of Jason's who'd gotten ordained online specifically for this—kept the ceremony brief and meaningful.

We exchanged vows we'd written ourselves, promises about choosing each other even when it was hard, about trust and truth and building something real from the foundation of secrecy we'd survived.

When Noah slid the ring onto my finger—a simple platinum band with a single diamond that caught the light like a trapped star—his hands were steady.

When I did the same for him, my voice didn't waver.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant said, grinning. "You may kiss—"

Noah didn't wait for permission.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me with the kind of thorough intensity that made the small crowd whistle and applaud. When we finally broke apart, both breathless and laughing, I saw that his eyes were wet with tears.

"Hey," I whispered, reaching up to wipe them away with my thumb. "No crying. You're going to ruin your reputation as the cool, collected one."

"Too late." He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "You ruined that four years ago when you walked into that hotel lobby looking like every fantasy I'd ever had and several I hadn't realized I wanted."

"Romantic," I teased, but my own eyes were swimming now. "And slightly inappropriate for a wedding."

"Our wedding," Noah corrected. "Which means I can say whatever I want."

He pulled me closer, his voice dropping to something intimate and raw.

"Like how I've loved you since I was nineteen and stupid and thought I could handle keeping my hands off my sister's gorgeous best friend. How you've made me better and braver and more honest than I ever thought I could be. How I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Noah." His name came out broken, overwhelmed. "You can't just—"

"I can," he interrupted gently. "Because I'm your husband now. And one of my jobs is reminding you that you're allowed to be loved without earning it."

---

The reception was set to begin in an hour, giving the venue staff time to transform the garden into an evening celebration.

Noah and I had slipped away to the ballroom early to check on the setup—or rather, I'd wanted to make sure everything was perfect, and Noah had followed because he never let me stress alone anymore.

"It looks beautiful," I said, taking in the string lights and roses and the elaborate champagne tower that dominated the center table.

"It does," Noah agreed, coming up beside me. "Though I'm staying far away from that thing."

"Probably wise." I moved closer to examine the crystal structure. "It's gorgeous though."

Noah reached out to adjust one of the glasses on the second tier.

I saw it happen in slow motion.

His finger caught the stem. The glass tilted. Noah lunged to catch it, and his elbow hit the table edge.

The entire tower swayed.

"Noah—"

He tried to steady it, overcorrected, and somehow managed to hook his foot on the table leg in the process.

Then he was going down, hard, taking the tablecloth and half the champagne tower with him.

The crash was spectacular. Crystal shattering. Champagne spraying everywhere. Noah sprawling on the floor in a tangle of white linen and his own limbs, champagne dripping from his hair.

And just like that, I was back at Zoe's wedding. Different venue, different tower, but the exact same scene—Noah on the floor, surrounded by broken crystal and champagne, looking stunned and slightly offended.

For one frozen heartbeat, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Could only stare at my husband sprawled in the wreckage.

Then I was dropping to my knees beside him, hands frantically searching for injuries.

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Talk to me."

My fingers skimmed over his face, his shoulders, checking for blood or bruises or broken bones.

Noah blinked up at me, champagne dripping from his hair, and then his mouth curved into that sheepish grin I knew so well.

"I'm fine," he said. "I swear. Just my dignity that's bruised."

Relief crashed over me so hard I felt dizzy. "You're sure? Nothing hurts?"

"Only my pride." He pushed himself up on his elbows, surveying the damage. "I can't believe I did it again."

And then I was laughing. Couldn't help it. The sound bubbled up from somewhere deep and uncontrollable.

"This is not funny," Noah protested, but he was starting to grin.

"It's exactly the same," I gasped between giggles. "The exact same as Zoe's wedding. You even fell the same way."

"I have a gift," Noah deadpanned. "Champagne towers fear me."

I reached out to brush champagne-soaked hair off his forehead. "You're a disaster."

"Your disaster." He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "For better or worse. Just promised that an hour ago."

One of the venue staff cleared their throat delicately.

"We can have this cleaned up quickly," she said. "But you both might want to... change."

I looked down at myself. My dress was soaked with champagne. Noah was even worse—completely drenched, crystal shards clinging to his jacket.

"Come on." I stood, offering him my hand. "Let's get you cleaned up before anyone sees this."