Jay's POV
The reception was still roaring behind us—Section E yelling over music, Drake trying to convince the DJ to let him sing, Brooke crying for the seventh time—but Keifer tugged my hand gently.
"Come with me," he murmured.
I didn't even ask where.
I just followed.
He led me down the wooden steps of the venue, away from the lights, away from the noise, toward the beach where the waves were calmer, quieter, softer.
The moon hung low, silver on the water.
The moment we stepped onto the sand, everything else disappeared.
Just us.
Just the sound of the ocean.
Keifer stopped, turning to face me. His tie was loose now, hair a little messy from all the chaos, sleeves rolled up.
He looked unfairly good.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
I laughed. "I'm married. To you. I think I'm more than okay."
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
"You looked beautiful today," he said quietly. "I don't think I breathed for the first ten minutes."
My chest tightened.
"You looked pretty good yourself," I teased.
He smirked. "Pretty good?"
"Fine. You looked dangerously handsome."
"That's better."
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other like we were still trying to believe this was real.
Then he took my hands.
"Jay," he said, voice low, "I know today was loud. And chaotic. And very… us."
I snorted. "That's one way to put it."
"But I wanted at least one moment that was just ours."
My heart softened instantly.
He pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine.
"I love you," he whispered. "Not the way people say it casually. Not the way I used to think love worked. I love you in a way that scares me. In a way that makes me want to be better. In a way that feels like breathing."
My breath caught.
He continued, voice barely above a whisper.
"You're my home, Jay. You always have been."
I swallowed hard, fingers curling into his shirt.
"I love you too," I whispered. "In every version of my life, in every universe, in every timeline—I'd find you. I'd choose you."
His eyes softened.
Then he kissed me.
Slow. Deep. Certain.
Not the rushed, excited kiss from the ceremony. Not the playful ones from the reception.
This one was different.
This one felt like a promise.
When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine again.
"Mrs. Mariano," he murmured.
I smiled. "Mr. Mariano."
He took my hand and intertwined our fingers.
"Ready to go back?" he asked.
"Not yet," I said, leaning into him. "Just… stay with me a little longer."
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, chin resting on my shoulder as we watched the waves.
And for the first time all night—
It was quiet.
It was peaceful.
It was ours.