“I’m sure she will,” I agree. I’ve never met anyone more cultured than Simone—she’s a diplomat’s daughter, and she lived all over the world, even before she started modeling.

Nessa and I drive over to Le Jardin, the massive greenhouse where Simone and Dante will be wed. I’m guessing they picked this place because they wanted greenery and flowers all around them, even though they’re getting married mid-November. No one suggested that they should simply wait for summer—after being separated for nine years, I doubt Dante would wait a single day longer to make Simone his wife. Besides that, Simone is pregnant with their second child. She probably wants to tie the knot while it’s still easy to fit in a standard wedding dress.

Even though it’s getting colder by the minute, Raylan is waiting outside for me. He grins as we pull up, excited to show me what he looks like in an actual tux.

He should be pleased with himself—he looks damn good. Even better than I expected. The smoke-gray jacket is perfectly fitted, and his beard and hair look blacker than ever by contrast. His blue eyes have taken on a steel-colored cast under the gray autumn sky.

He takes my arm, looking me up and down with obvious appreciation.

“Goddamn, woman,” he says. “Just when I think you couldn’t impress me any more than you already have, you come out of that car and blow my fucking mind.”

“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” I say. “Where’s your boots?”

Raylan grins. “In the car. Don’t tempt me, or I’ll go and grab ‘em.”

The interior of the greenhouse is lush and humid, though not uncomfortably so. Flowers and vines run across the trellis overhead, entwined with fairy lights. A bearded cellist plays a cover of All of Me.

All of Me — Brooklyn Duo (Spotify)

All of Me — Brooklyn Duo (Apple)

An iron archway marks the place where Dante and Simone will be wed. The arch is woven with greenery and cream-colored flowers: orchids, peonies, and roses.

Raylan and I take a seat on the groom’s side of the aisle. We’re sitting behind Enzo Gallo, the patriarch of the Gallo family, and Aida and Callum. I can see little Miles Griffin peeking over Callum’s shoulder. He’s been pacified with a soother stuffed in his mouth, but his gray eyes still look furious and his dark hair sticks up in all directions.

Aida turns around to whisper, “Hi!” She squeezes my knee as we sit down. I can see her looking Raylan over with great curiosity.

Two rows back, Nero’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a pretty girl with dark, curly hair. That must be Camille. I check her hands—sure enough, I spot the faint remnants of oil at the edges of her fingernails. Just the same as Nero’s hands—proof of their mutual love of combustion engines. They’re talking intently, their heads close together, as if they’re the only two humans in the world.