Page 736 of End Game

Now warm strands of lights run overhead, and candles line the windowsills. The flowers are simple, mostly white with dark greenery, low enough that nobody has to talk around them at dinner.

We didn't try to make the room softer than it is.

We just gave it warmth.

I like that better.

Ronan stands beside me near the back entrance to the ceremony space and adjusts one of his cuffs for the third time.

Then he looks at my face.

“You're clamping your jaw hard enough that I can see the muscle moving.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He says it without argument, which somehow makes it more annoying.

A guitar chord rings through the gallery.

Pachelbel.

Technically.

The melody is recognizable beneath distortion and a heavier bass line, rebuilt into something that sounds like it belongs in the middle of a rock set instead of a string quartet.

Ronan tilts his head toward the sound. “They actually pulled it off.”

“Dex threatened them.”

“That explains it.”

His hand settles briefly against my shoulder, firm enough that I feel it through the suit.

“You ready?” he asks.

I look toward the ceremony area, where I can see the backs of rows of chairs and the people turning toward the music.

“Yeah.”

We start walking.

I hadn't planned on Ronan walking me down the aisle when Dex first suggested a processional.

Mostly because I didn't think I needed anyone to.

I wasn't making a statement. I simply assumed I would walk myself.

Dex disagreed loudly from the kitchen.

Cami suggested Ronan.

Ronan looked at me, waiting instead of assuming.

The answer was easier than I expected.

So now he walks beside me through a room full of people who know exactly what he is to me, even if there isn't a simple word that contains all of it.