Page 178 of Mended Hearts

July…

I ran the pad of my thumb over the diamond-studded ring on Leighton’s finger in slow, steady strokes—reassuring myself this was real. She stood beside me, looking like the perfect aristocratic mother in her navy dress and structured black blazer, her basketball belly front and center. Twenty-three, and already elegant enough to dominate any gala she stepped into.

Instead, she was here—humming quietly, worrying her bottom lip as the elevator carried us toward the second floor of the courthouse.

“Still surreal seeing you wear it,” I murmured to break the silence, though my voice came out tight. Strangled. A fitting match to the knot in my chest.

How could I feel so much joy—just knowing my best friend would be my wife before next summer—and still be weighed down by what we were walking into?

“If showers weren’t mandatory, I’d never take it off,” she said lightly, though her voice was tight, her teeth returning to her lip almost instantly.

It was also surreal knowing for the first time it wasn’t just me whose life would be impacted today. This woman had fallen in love with my kids as deeply as she had with me. She would do anything—anything—to keep them where they belonged.

But it wasn’t up to us anymore.

The elevator chimed a cheerful little ping, like lives didn’t get wrecked in these walls on the regular, and we stepped into the hallway.

Greyson was already there, leaning against the hideous wallpaper, his hands tucked into his pockets and his expression sharper than usual. He looked less like a diplomat and more like a man heading into war.

And really, that’s what it was.

My screwups as a college kid had put us all here. Grey. Leigh. The kids. All of us haunted by my poor decisions.

“Hell raiser,” he said with a smirk, stepping forward to tuck Leighton into a quick hug. “You look beautiful today.”

They’d found some sort of truce in the weeks since theThunderstrikereveal. Captain Reynolds’ permanent post at our side probably helped—he hadn’t let the kids out of his sight since.

“Groucho,” she purred, reaching up to dust an invisible speck off his shoulder. “This suit looks spectacularly suity.”

Grey chuckled, but his gaze flicked to mine. “You ready for this?”

“Is anyone ever ready for this?”

“Valid point.”

“Is Alanzo ready?”

“She’s waiting for you.”

We said nothing more as the three of us made that slow march down the corridor. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the gallows, but my nerves sure as hell thought so.

Sure enough, outside room 208, Katie Alanzo—best damn family lawyer in the state—was hammering out a message on her phone at such breakneck speed I wasn’t sure my fingers could’ve kept up even if I was just mashing keys. She popped a pink bubble between her lips and casually tucked her stick-straight black hair behind one ear.

“Ollie, breathe,” she said by way of greeting, extending her hand. I obeyed the order as I shook it. She turned to Leigh next. “Nice to see you again, Miss Rhodes. You clean up well.”

“Really? You sure it’s not too politician-pandering-to-the-populace in an uninspired polyester pantsuit?”

Greyson made a strangled noise as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dare you to say that ten times fast.”

Katie’s lips twitched. “The dress is just professional enough.”

“Phew. I was afraid it was giving Hillary Clinton, circa early 2000s.”

Katie snorted, eyes flicking to me before returning to Leigh. “Relax, Miss Rhodes. If anything, it’s more Kate Middleton at a casual Saturday brunch.”

“Wow,” Leighton gasped, pressing a hand to her chest with a blinding smile. And damn if she didn’t look royal—dark chocolate hair curled to her ribs, makeup subtle and perfect, shoulders back, my ring gleaming on her finger as her hand cradled her belly.

“Imagine what I could do with taller heels and an iota of motivation to spend a day not bathing in glitter.”

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