“You don’t need to feel good about it. That’s why I took the burden onto my shoulders—so you wouldn’t have to feel anything about it except relief.”
I don’t want to interrupt, but I have to duck between them to retrieve my scrambled egg mixture to pour over the other food in the skillet. “Don’t mind me.”
“Part of me does feel relieved,” Griff admits. “But that just makes me feel worse.”
Sebastian shrugs. “Wasn’t your doing; no need to feel bad.”
I dump the eggs in and set aside the bowl, grabbing my spatula.
“I’m sorry I said I wish you’d left,” Sebastian says, surprising me. My husband is not a big apologizer.
Griff is dismissive. “I knew you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I told Moira things I shouldn’t have.”
I glance back over my shoulder to see how that one lands. Sebastian’s gaze lingers on me, his lips tipped up at the corners. “That’s all right. I kind of like knowing she loves me anyway.”
Sparing him a little smile and a private wink, I remind him, “Like I said at the church, for better or worse. Now, why don’t you two hug it out?”
Griff rolls his eyes. “We don’t need to hug it out.”
“Your new wife disagrees. Wives are always right.” I gesture between them. “Go on, I’m waiting.”
Griff still isn’t all the way on board, but Sebastian doesn’t wait. He grabs Griff and gives him a hug. My insides get all mushy and warm. Seb winks at me and smiles.
Yep, it’s official.
I’m the luckiest woman in the world.
Epilogue
Griff
“You look so handsome.”
I stand near the double doors of the crowded ballroom, like I’m ready to flee at any given moment. Moira stands before me in a dark blue ball gown, the cut of her dress drawing my poor, helpless eyes straight to her cleavage as she fixes my bowtie.
“There, perfect,” she says, smoothing her hands across my chest and down my arms.
“I feel dumb wearing a tux,” I tell her.
Eyebrows rising, she looks me over, making no attempt to hide her appreciation. “Well, you do not look dumb, if that’s any consolation.”
Putting my hands on her narrow waist, I draw her closer. “I’m tired of talking to these people. I want this thing to be over. I want to take you home and get you out of this dress.”
“You and me both. I wish we could go home, cuddle up on the couch with Sebastian, and watch Sabrina.”
“That is not where I thought you were going with that.”
“You guys owe me a movie. You always owe me a movie. Every single time I turn on a movie I like, you team up and distract me with sex. It’s not fair. I never get to watch anything I like.”
I cock an eyebrow. She’s right, we do that, but half the time I think she picks the movie just because she knows we will. “I’ve never heard any complaints.”
With a sly smile, she says, “I didn’t say I had any.”
“Then let’s bail and do that instead.”
“Nope. I’ve invested way too much time and effort into this benefit to beg off early. Come on, let’s go find Sebastian while we have a chance,” she says, grabbing my hand and dragging me across the ballroom.
Tonight we are attending—and hosting—a gala that Moira herself came up with and put together—the Better Tomorrow Ball, an annual gala in honor of Ashley Halliwell. It’s kind of egregious, exalting Ashley’s death given the circumstances, but Moira saw a chance to do good in the world in Ashley’s name, and she went for it.