Page 98 of Stolen Vows

I take a deep breath, smoothing my hands over my dress one more time. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He crosses the room to run his hand over Romeo’s head, scratching under his ears in that way he loves.

Romeo leans into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. Graham chuckles softly, a sound that wraps around my heart and squeezes. There’s something so natural, so effortless about the way he interacts with my dog. Like it’s second nature to him now.

I watch them for a moment, soaking in the simple domesticity of it all. My husband and my dog. It still feels a little surreal, like I’m daydreaming.

Graham straightens up and holds out his hand to me. “Come on, sunshine. Time for dinner.”

I get Romeo in his kennel and let Graham lead me to the garage with his hand on my lower back. We spend the fifteen-minute drive to his parents’ house listening to Taylor Swift, and it’s amazing. He doesn’t look annoyed or put out by my song selections for a single second. He doesn’t sing along yet either, but I’m almost positive I’ll convert him into a Swiftie before our year is over.

As Graham pulls into his parents’ driveway, my nerves return in full force. Their house looks warm and inviting, with a wraparound porch and flowers lining the walkway. It’s the kind of house that feels like a home, lived-in and loved. So different from the house I grew up in.

He puts the car in park and turns to me, his expression softening when he sees me twirling the end of my hair between two fingers.

“Francesca.” His voice is a soothing murmur.

“I don’t even know why I’m so nervous,” I say around a laugh. I exhale and force a smile to my face. “Okay. Let’s do this.” I push open the door and hop out before I talk myself out of it.

Graham’s out of the car and rounding the hood, his mouth curved down into a frown. “You’re supposed to wait for me to open the door for you.”

I bump my shoulder into him with a smirk. It’s like pressing against rock. “How chivalrous of you.”

His palm hovers over my lower back as we walk to the front door. “Squeeze my hand if you want to leave. At any time, okay?” he murmurs into my hair, his lips brushing the top of my ear.

I tip my face toward him. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. Parents love me.” It’s not a lie exactly but it’s not a universal truth either. I haven’t met many parents in this situation.

“Everyone should.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and steal a glance at him. Before I can reply, his dad, Lucas, is opening the front door with a wide grin.

“It’s the newlyweds!” Lucas greets us, holding his arms open wide.

Graham stiffens when Lucas steps toward me, intent on a hug.

I chuckle under my breath. “So nice to see you again. Thank you for having me.”

He pulls back and looks at me. “Don’t be silly. You’re family now, Francesca.”

Lucas's words hit me square in the chest.Family. It's a foreign concept to me, this easy acceptance and warmth. But as he ushers us inside with a smile, I feel a flicker of something dangerously close to hope ignite in my heart.

“C’mon, son, your mother’s been buzzing around the house all day. She's so happy all her kids are here,” Lucas says, pulling Graham into a hug.

I knew walking into Graham’s family home would be different from my own. I knew I wouldn’t be greeted by stiff smiles and disapproving once-overs. I knew Hazel wouldn’t pull me aside with a thinly veiled warning about my behavior.

But still. I wasn’t prepared for this.

The moment we step inside, warmth crashes over me. The din of laughter and conversation, the smell of garlic and herbs wafting through the first floor, the sheer amount of things around. Family photos line the walls of the hallway, and my feet slow before I even give myself permission to stop.

A photo nestled among the others catches my eye, and I pause, drawn to it like a magnet. It’s a snapshot of a young Graham, probably around kindergarten, with Beau on one side and Cora on the other. And he’s holding a baby Abby, her chubby cheeks split in a gummy smile.

But it’s Graham’s expression that arrests me. His grin is wide and unguarded, dimples carving deep into his cheeks. His eyes are alight with pride and pure, unbridled joy as he holds his youngest sister.

“I knew it.”

“What’s that, sunshine?”

I look at him over my shoulder, a grin quick to form. “You definitely have dimples.”

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