A week later, at our reception, Rowan rolled to the center of the room and looked at me.
"Ready, baby?" he asked.
" Always. "
He took a breath, braced himself, and stood up.
The room remained still.
I surprised two of my cousins near the bar, the same ones who had asked me if I was "sure of myself" before the wedding.
One of them murmured something, his eyes fixed on Rowan.
The room froze.
"Is he really going to try?"
My chest tightened. Let them watch.
He leaned close, his voice low. "You're in charge, Mik."
I smiled through my tears. "I've got you."
And this time, we moved together.
***
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