Page 101 of Resisting You
His hand tightened slightly around mine.
“So yeah,” I whispered. “I’m okay with the noise, the press, the weird fans who want you to play a vampire forever. Because I’m not just surviving it anymore. I’m choosing it. I’m choosingyou.”
His hand tightened around mine—and I didn’t wait.
I leaned in and kissed him.
Not soft. Not tentative. Not like someone afraid of being seen.
I kissed him like I’d been waiting my whole life to do it right. Like I finally knew what “yes” felt like in my bones. Like love didn’t need perfect timing—just the right person and one brave moment.
Noah groaned low in his throat, hands threading into my hair as he kissed me back like he’d been holding it in for years. Andthen a shout from the grass below us shattered the moment like a fallen champagne flute.
Noah and I broke apart, startled, as a distinctly exasperated voice rang out from below the treehouse. I blinked, breathless, and leaned toward the window.
“Okay, you two!” Callie stood at the base of the tree, hands on her hips, holding a tangled spool of white satin ribbon like she was ready to strangle someone with it. “Is there gonna be a wedding today or not? Because I’m not tying hundreds of these damn ribbons for nothing!”
Cam stood behind her with Lydia in his arms and Maddie grinning up at us in front of him. Steve held a folding chair over one shoulder, trying—and failing—not to laugh. Lex was adjusting a string of fairy lights on a nearby fence post.
Ronnie cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “For the record, Mom saw the whole thing and cried.”
Noah’s mom, standing just off to the side in a floral sundress and pearls, dabbed her eyes and beamed up at us.
And then myparentscame into view—my mother clasping her hands to her chest, clearly touched, while my father raised his phone up and snapped a picture like this was a campaign stop.
Hazel lifted a mimosa toward me in a toast with her arm around Reid’s waist and West stood off to the side smiling up at us. “What do you two say?” Hazel yelled up. “Can we get this show on the road?”
I smiled, cheeks aching. “Are you ready to do this?” I asked Noah.
He nodded. “A small ceremony with just our families and best friends? Absolutely.”
But I held up a hand, eyes sparkling. “Actually… we’re waiting on a couple more people.”
Before he could ask, a distant gate creaked open. From across the yard came Kristen—Noah’s publicist-turned-frenemy—flanked by two well-known photographers with gear slung over their shoulders. A third assistant carried a white-draped stool like she’d crash-landed from Vogue.
Noah blinked, staring. “What’s this? I thought you wanted out of the spotlight?”
I shrugged, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt collar. “Compromise means we can’t always hide in the shadows. If I’m going to marrytheNoah Blue, we need to give the magazines some publishable moments.”
He grinned, stunned. “I can’t believe you set this up? I mean, hell, I was planning on firing Kristen after what she said to you?—”
“Don’t. She was just trying to protect you. We both were.”
He turned to face me once more and took my hands. “Her job is now to protect both of us. We don’t need to hire any exclusive magazine photographers for our wedding.”
“I know.” I shrugged again, trying not to smirk. “But guiding the narrative is easier than cleaning up the mess. Let them get their cover shot. Let them see that the blind item didn’t break us. Let them see that we had this beautiful, quiet day, surrounded by people who love us.”
His arms encircled my waist with an unwavering grip, providing a gentle yet steadfast anchor and drawing me closer until the space between us vanished. As our lips met in a tender, lingering embrace. An intoxicating blend of warmth and affection surged through me, sending a delightful shiver cascading down my spine.
When we finally pulled apart, I whispered, “Let’s get married…Again.”
Epilogue
Callie
Weddings are emotional chaos bombs.
One minute, you’re ugly crying because your twin brother is making vows to the woman you knew he'd been pining after for years. The next, you’re four champagne flutes deep, eating your third slice of cake with your fingers, and wondering if getting a degree in marketing was just your way of saying,I have no idea what the fuck I want to do with my life.
