The morning of the wedding dawned with chaos.
Kathleen stood barefoot in the penthouse kitchen, Alina's sticky fingers clutching hers as the girl "helped" frost a lopsided cupcake tower. Buttercream smeared across the countertops, flour dusted their hair, and somewhere in the mess was the three-tiered cake that was supposed to be their centerpiece.
*"Mommy, look!"* Alina held up a cupcake with more sprinkles than frosting. *"I made us crowns!"*
Kathleen's breath caught. *Mommy.* The word still sent warmth through her chest. She crouched to press a kiss to Alina's flour-streaked cheek. *"Perfect. Just like you."*
Ava barged in, balancing two garment bags and a Starbucks cup. *"Okay, disaster crew. We have one hour before showtime."* She eyed the kitchen warily. *"Why does it look like a bakery exploded?"*
*"Science,"* Alina said solemnly.
Kathleen laughed, swiping buttercream off her wrist. *"Where's Carl?"*
*"Pacing the terrace like a caged tiger."* Ava unzipped the first bag—a sleek ivory jumpsuit with a plunging back, not a traditional gown in sight. *"He threatened to call in a SWAT team if any paparazzi get within a mile of the venue."*
Kathleen's lips curved. *"Romantic."*
Ava snorted. *"You two are disgusting."*
Alina tugged Kathleen's sleeve. *"Can I wear my dragon pin?"* She held up the SafeHaven logo—the same one Kathleen had worn the day she met Carl.
Kathleen fastened it to Alina's tiny lapel. *"Now you're officially in charge of security."*
---
CARL
Carl adjusted his cuffs for the twelfth time.
The cliffside venue was nothing like the overpriced ballrooms of his past society weddings. No crystal chandeliers. No guest list of strangers. Just the sea wind, the scent of wild grass, and the woman currently walking toward him in a white jumpsuit that could level cities.
Kathleen.
*His.*
Alina marched ahead, tossing petals with the gravitas of a general deploying troops. Behind her, Ava—officiating in leather pants and a smirk—winked at Carl.
Then Kathleen was there, her fingers lacing with his, her voice low. *"You're sweating."*
Carl brushed his thumb over her knuckles. *"You're stunning."*
Ava cleared her throat. *"Alright, lovebirds. Short version: You're both control freaks who somehow don't hate each other. Vows?"*
Kathleen went first. *"Carl Harris, I don't need you. But I *want* you. Every stubborn, reckless, infuriating inch."*
The crowd—their *real* family, the engineers and bodyguards and Ava—hooted.
Carl's throat tightened. *"Kathleen Palmer. You were the only storm I couldn't outrun."* He pressed his forehead to hers. *"Thank God for that."*
Alina bounced. *"KISS!"*
Carl obliged—dipping Kathleen back as the sunset painted them gold, the ocean roaring its approval.
When they broke apart, Ava raised a champagne flute. *"To the happy monsters. May they terrify the world together."*
Glasses clinked. Alina stole a sip and gagged.
And Kathleen whispered against Carl's lips: *"Let's go conquer something."*