Mira's POV
The restaurant was glowing.
Soft amber lights shimmered across glass walls, the tables dressed in white with gold accents. It wasn't grand or loud. Jace had made sure of that. He said he wanted something that felt like us, and somehow, he always knew exactly what that meant.
I adjusted the sleeve of my dress, a soft ivory piece that flowed against my skin and looked around at the faces filling the room.
People we'd loved, lost, and found again. My brother sat near the window with a glass of champagne in hand, pretending not to smile as Tomas teased him across the table. Donna Carmela was radiant in navy blue about something that probably involved Jace's childhood. Even Cecilia, our planner, was there, fluttering around with her ever-present clipboard and glowing pride.
For the first time in a long time, the room didn't feel heavy with history.
It just felt… happy.
