When Oswald kissed my cheek, I took in the scent of his herby sunblock, and I felt an ache deep within me, such grief. Because it’s painful to see something die—a beloved grandmother, a favorite pet, a kind friend, life changing a passion for a fabulous man.

Oswald and I gazed into each other’s eyes, and I thought he must feel the same bittersweet pang.

And then I turned back to my guests.

There was dinner and toasts, and after that Ian and I had our first dance as a married couple to a romantic bolero. I said into his ear, “Do you remember the first time we danced together?”

“Vividly,” he answered. “You moved like a dream. A sweaty, lusty wet dream.”

“I thought we danced too well together.”

“Is there no pleasing you? I shall try to rise to the challenge.”

“Not in front of the guests, Ian.”

“If you insist.”

“Where’s Ilena?”

“She decided not to come.”

“I can’t say that I’m upset. But thank you for letting me invite Oswald.”

“The sooner he marries Lily Harrison, the more comfortable I’ll be,” Ian said. “I have a wedding present for you.”

“Is it in your pants?”

“Not in front of the guests, Milagro,” he said in his low, sexy, rumbly voice, and I wished that the guests would all go away so I could be alone with my husband.

Our second band of the night was Pepper’s new rock group. Mercedes’s father joined the biker on bagpipes, and the wall of sound pulsing through me was exactly what I loved about music.

I took off my shoes and danced with my girlfriends, before Ian picked me up and carried me out, while our guests shouted congratulations.

A black Mercedes pulled up, and Mr. K got out and opened the door for us.

“Good evening, sir, ma’am.”

Ian said, “Good evening. Home, please.”

I said, “Mr. K, please tell me that I’m not a ‘ma’am’ already.”

He smiled and said, “As Lord Ducharme has instructed us, you will be exactly who you will be, Milagro.”

“Thank you, Mr. K.”

We got in the backseat, and Mr. K closed the door.

I leaned against Ian. “You didn’t have to carry me out.”

“You would have stayed there all night, and I couldn’t endure sharing you any longer.”

As Mr. K started the car and began driving, I said, “It was the best wedding ever, Ian.”

“We still have the family ceremony in Lviv. My mother has been planning it for years.”

“I’m trying to make that traditional vampire wedding fruitcake, and it looks all kinds of dreadful. Mrs. K promised to help fix it, but it may be unfixable, wrong at the molecular level, as Nancy would say.” I looked out the window. “This isn’t the way to the hotel. Where are we going?”

“Home.”