Page 93 of Knot Your Romeo

35

Emmie

Three Weeks Later

The morning sun streamsthrough the kitchen windows of the main house, warming me as I sit cross-legged in my favorite pajamas on the floor. I'm sorting through wedding magazines. It's become my new obsession—not because I'm in any rush to get married, but because planning something beautiful and hopeful feels like the perfect antidote to everything that came before.

"This one," I announce, holding up a photo of an outdoor ceremony with string lights and wildflowers. "This is exactly what I want."

Beck looks up from his laptop where he's been working through emails, his reading glasses perched on his nose in a way that makes him look intelligent but impossibly handsome.

"Including the fairy lights?"

"All of it. The lights, the flowers, the way it looks so natural and romantic." I turn the magazine toward Eli and Jude, who are sharing the couch nearby. "What do you think?"

Eli abandons his book to study the image seriously. "It's beautiful, sunshine. Very you."

"The setting reminds me of the back gardens," Jude adds, looking up from the paper on Aurora Omegas he is reading. "We could definitely create something similar on the estate."

The casual way they discuss our wedding—not if, butwhenandhow—still makes my heart flutter with happiness.

Five weeks ago, I wasn't sure I'd live to see another sunset. Now I'm planning a ceremony that will bind me legally and spiritually to the three men who've become my entire world. And afterward, I want each man to claim me and I’m going to claim them.

I hope.

"Your mom called while you were in the shower," Beck says, closing his laptop and giving me his full attention. "She wants to know if you'd like her to reach out to your sisters about the wedding."

The mention of my sisters sends a familiar pang through my chest. "Did she say anything about Lottie? About how she's doing?"

Beck's expression grows gentle. "She's safe, baby girl. Carlos isn't Blake, and from what I've learned, he's actually been quite understanding about...everything."

The fertility issues Blake mentioned. The cruel way he dismissed my sister as "defective" when she couldn't get pregnant. I've been carrying that knowledge like a stone thatrested on my heart, knowing Lottie is probably blaming herself for something completely beyond her control.

"I want to call her," I say impulsively. "I know it might not be safe yet, but I need her to know that I'm okay. That Blake is gone and can't hurt any of us anymore."

"We can arrange a secure line," Eli offers immediately. "Dmitri's people have ways of making calls that can't be tracked or monitored."

The casual mention of their Russian connection doesn't even make me flinch anymore. I've accepted that Beck's methods for rescuing me involved crossing lines that can't be uncrossed. I don't remember the sound of gunfire, or the sight of Blake's lifeless eyes staring at nothing, but I do remember what he planned to do to me, what he'd already done to my sisters. For that reason, I can't bring myself to feel guilty about his death. I'm actually glad he is gone.

"I'd like that," I tell Eli. "Maybe this afternoon?"

"Consider it done."

Jude sets aside his papers and moves to the floor beside me, gathering me into his arms with such tenderness that it still makes my pulse quicken. "How are you feeling about everything? Really?"

It's a question he asks regularly. Our soul bond gets stronger every day and with that, he sees every one of my emotional states, and I see his. But as Jude watches me more closely for signs of trauma or delayed stress reactions. What he doesn't seem to understand is that being here with them, planning our future together, is the best therapy possible.

"Happy," I say honestly, settling against his chest and breathing in his familiar scent of books and coffee. "Scared sometimes, when I think about everything that could have gone wrong. But mostly just...grateful."

"Grateful?" Beck raises an eyebrow, moving from his chair to join us on the floor.

"That I found you. All of you." I reach out to touch his face. "I thought my life was over. Now I can't imagine wanting anything different from this."

"Even when we're being overprotective?" Eli asks with a smile. "Because I know we've been hovering."

It's true—none of them have let me out of their sight for more than a few hours since the rescue. Someone always volunteers to drive me to town, to accompany me on walks around the estate, to check on me when I've been quiet for too long. Months ago, it might have felt suffocating. Now it feels like love.

"Even then," I assure him. "Though I might start taking advantage of the hovering if you're not careful."

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