She had a diamond on a chain around her neck. Her honey curls were pulled back in a loose bun at her nape. She had pearls in her ears.

But she had little butterflies stuck in her hair.

She also had a small baby bump at her belly.

She was smiling at a man with black hair that was cut short at the sides and was a mess at the top. He had a thick beard. He was standing on the dance floor wearing a pair of jeans and a cream shirt.

He was smiling back.

She lifted her hand toward him when she was a few feet away.

He took it when she got close.

He wasted no time pulling her into his arms, and the woman didn’t quit smiling at him as he did it. In fact, her smile got so big, it near on split her face.

Then the opening strains of Louis Armstrong singing “What a Wonderful World” started playing.

The woman threw her head back and her peal of laughter could be heard over the music.

It was laughter even if it also sounded almost like a sob.

The man watched her and the white of his teeth that shone through his beard didn’t disappear as he did.

Then she tipped her head forward and buried her face in his neck as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

He rested his jaw against the side of her head and swayed her in his arms.

A group of people moved, and Jefferson Steele could no longer see his son dancing with his new wife at their wedding reception from where he stood at the fence.

It was time to go anyway.

He didn’t even know why he came, except for the fact that for the first time in years, he ran into fucking Linus Washington and the man wouldn’t shut up about Carson and his girl Carissa, telling him all about them getting married.

He turned to head to his truck that he had to park a fucking million miles away because Broadway was lined with cars, trucks, and bikes.

But he stopped dead when he saw a salt-and-pepper-haired, goateed man standing there with his arms crossed on his chest.

“You got that.” His voice was low, gravelly, and hostile. “Now do not ever come back.”

Jefferson Steele took one beat to consider the idea if he could take this asshole down.

It only took a beat.

Then he nodded, shifted around him, giving him a wide berth, and walked to his truck.

Tack Allen walked to the fence and looked into the forecourt of Ride.

All he could see over the crowd was the side of Joker’s head, his face obscured by Carissa’s honey curls.

He scanned and caught sight of his woman.