Page 112 of Rafferty's Rules
I’m not crying, she is! Okay, maybe I’m crying just a little.
She looks stunning, sheathed in a body-hugging dress, overlaid by delicate lace. A round neck, and long sleeves, it leaves her back almost completely bare to her waist before falling into a long train.
A kiss from her dad and she’s handed to her betrothed, Byron receiving her with a look that speaks of devotion.
Words are spoken, words of love, and of bonds that can never be broken. Rings are exchanged and promises made as Matty hands his father a tiny circle of diamonds. Bryon slips it onto Amber’s finger with the kind of expression that needs no name.
Kisses, catcalls, and family cuddles follow, before the newlyweds and their children converge into a family cuddle.
Ladies and gentlemen, behold.
This is love.
And love is worth fighting for.
Chapter 34
RAFFERTY
‘When Byron asked Amber to marry him,’ Flynn begins, his gaze on our new sister, his words pitched loud enough to be heard by most. ‘She told me she drew up a pro and con list. Around us, a titter of laugher rises, deepening as Flynn pulls the tiniest scrap of paper out of his pocket and begins to read. ‘Pro? Being married. Con. Being married to Byron.’
The tittering voices become a wave of chuckles that carries through the crowd. From across the table, Lissa looks up, her gaze catching mine. My heart thumps as though the connection were a physical thing, and all I can think is she has the best kind of smile. She’s open and honest and everything that’s good about the world. And I’m going to miss her so fucking much.
My chest aches as I sigh. It feels like an inhalation during the depths of a London winter, sharp, cold and painful. Which is a kind of a mindfuck as the air around us is warm and fragrant with flowers and perfume.
As I watch, Lissa turns, nodding her head in answer to a question of the woman sitting to her left.Tom’s date.I should feel reassured that he hadn’t brought Becci along. I should. But I don’t. Instead, I feel unsettled. On edge. But it might be because this thing between us is coming to an end.
I return my gaze to Lissa as she listens to the rest of Flynn’s speech, watching her profile, the dark sweep of her lashes and the tip-tilt of her nose. I suppose I should be listening to my brother, too, but I’m content watching the woman I love, while wondering what she’s wearing under her dress.G-string, I’ll bet.The one she wore the night we met. Or should I say the night I met her. I suppose technically, she didn’t meet me until the following morning. At least, as far as her memory is concerned.
She looks so sweet sitting there, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Which is about right, I suppose, because her mouth makes all of me hard. I look up when I feel the weight of Tom’s gaze, quirking a brow in question. He answers by raising his glass.
Fuck off Tom, I intone silently. Sadly, he doesn’t get the message.
‘You’ve got it bad.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I answer in a mild tone, moving the last of mt dessert around my plate. ‘Idon’t know what you’re talking about.’ I sit back in my chair with the air of someone unaffected, rather than someone caught out having very base thoughts.
‘That’s because he’s been on the sauce all day long,’ Roman interjects from my left, throwing his arm around my shoulder. ‘He’s pissed again. And if he’s not careful,’ he says drawing closer as he lowers his voice, ‘I’ll be taking his date home.’
‘You can try,’ Toms replies, though I can tell his heart isn’t in it.What’s going on with him?
Uninterested in this masculine pissing contest, I’m just about to make my excuses, and Lissa’s, when from the dais in front, Flynn raises his glass in toast.
‘To my Amber and Byron; the bride and groom.’
‘The bride and groom,’ the guests chant in return with the fervour of the devout. More speeches follow, the usual form. Cake is cut and force fed to each other for the purpose of clicking cameras, before the more relaxing part of the event dawns. Drink flows, conversations hum. Children run around laughing gleefully. Glasses chink, and as the sun sets music from the band strikes up.
‘It’s all so beautiful,’ Lissa murmurs as we twirl around the dancefloor, Lissa’s head reaching my shoulder thanks to the heels she’s wearing. The heels I think she should keep on when we leave.Heels and nothing else. The band plays a mellow tune as, above us, a million fairy lights twinkle, mimicking the stars in the night sky.
‘Yeah, she did well.’
‘Amber?’ Lissa sounds surprised. ‘Did she plan this all herself?’
‘I suppose Mum helped, and maybe her mother did her bit, too. And Byron, I guess. But he works so hard, I reckon he’d have to give up sleep to find time.’
‘I bet he still did.’
‘Yeah.’ As we make another twirl, I catch sight of him. His arm draped around his wife, he looks so content. He deserves every happiness. ‘He’s a good bloke.’ And good brother and a good mate. And I’ve missed him.
