Easy (Chicago Blaze 6)

I’m sweaty and in need of the touch-up the makeup artist gives me in the limo on the way to the reception. The girls, riding with us, are taking selfies and giggling.

“Hashtag baller,” Vi says, typing on her phone.

I shake my head and look at Erik. He winks at me and we’re gazing at each other with the look of love when the girls get up and move to sit between us.

“Smile!” Vi says, holding her phone up to take a selfie of the four of us.

“My girls look beautiful today,” Erik says as Vi scrolls through the photos on her phone. “But girls, if any other man says that to you tonight, you come tell me immediately.”

Vi groans and looks at me. “Are you going to make us do that lame sex and drugs vow you made Max do before school every day?”

“Um, obviously,” I say. “And I’ll be adding more verbiage on not being so mouthy.”

She turns back to her phone and Erik puts his arm around me. I momentarily relax as I think about our trip to Hawaii.

“Did I pack my tennis shoes?” I ask, trying to remember if I put them in my suitcase. “That’s not something I can just pick up in Hawaii; I need the ones I already have.”

“If you didn’t, it’s too late to go back for them now,” Erik points out.

“Ugh. I hope I packed them.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. This is a night of no worrying.”

“Okay, you’re right.”

We booked the date of our wedding so we could get married right before the annual Blaze trip to Luca and Abby’s place in Kauai. The kids are flying there with Knox, Reese and some others who are leaving tomorrow, and Erik and I are flying separately. We’ll spend a week in Maui alone before joining the others in Kauai for another week.

The kids have never left the Midwest for a vacation, and they’re crazy excited about the trip. It’s another experience I’m grateful to get to give them. Not just the exotic trip, but also the feeling of family we have with the rest of Erik’s team. Everyone keeps an eye on everyone else’s kids and there’s no drama. They’re all genuinely happy for each other when good things happen.

The limo pulls up to the hotel hosting our reception, and Erik takes my hand as we walk inside together. The ballroom is lavishly decorated with tropical flowers, a nod to our honeymoon destination.

We’re introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman and Erik sweeps me into his arms for our first dance as man and wife. As we dance to At Last by Etta James, the words echoing in my soul, I meet Erik’s gaze and know that we both have finally fulfilled the dreams we shared all those years ago, at last.