Chapter 161
Daelan
The wedding is great.
People are eating. They are mingling. We are mingling.
But how long are we supposed to stay here?
I stand beside Emmaline, a champagne flute in my hand that I haven't touched in an hour. Guests approach in a steady stream—congratulations, best wishes, so happy for you, what a beautiful ceremony. I nod. I smile. I say thank you.
I am not present.
My mind is elsewhere. Specifically, in a room. With a bed. And my wife.
My wife.
Ha. Wife.
My goddess is now my wife.
I mean, she's not Mrs. Crowe—we agreed to keep our respective last names. She is her father's only child, after all. The Morne name dies with her if she doesn't carry it.
But still. Wife.
Married.
I look at the band around my finger and fight the urge to smile.
I lose.
Annoyed with the steady stream of guests, I drag her back to the dance floor. A slow ballad is playing, soft and warm, the orchestra swaying with the rhythm.
"Want to escape?" I say against her ear.
