Marina pointed to him. “That’s not why I’m scowling. I’m scowling because you’re trying to bring bad luck to my brother’s marriage by urging him to break an age-old tradition.”

Jay threw his hands in the air. “Hey, I’m just laying out the facts. You’ll find that a bunch of those old superstitions arose out of simple practicality. Marriages were little more than business transactions back then.”

Marina scowled harder. “When my friend Rose broke a mirror, she was sick with a different ailment at least once a year for seven years. Then on the seventh year, poof, no more ailments. How do you explain that, Mr. Practical?”

“I explain it with one word: coincidence,” Jay threw back.

I shook my head. Those two were always arguing over stuff like this. In fact, I thought they enjoyed it. Marina touched my hand. “Don’t listen to him. The ceremony is in less than half an hour. You can wait.”

Before I could reply, Jay spoke up again. “Oh, and more evidence to prove my point: veils. Why have a veil if not to hide an ugly face? You’re already married by the time the priest tells you to lift it, and then it’s like boom, here’s what you just pledged your entire life to. Good luck with that.”

Jack, who had been fixing his tie in the mirror, snickered a laugh. I think this must have been the first time I’d ever seen him in a suit. My best man. My best friend.

Marina continued scowling at Jay until he finally got the message to shut up. She’d become something of a substitute mother to the brothers, and though she often complained about it, I knew she loved being needed.

I squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

I didn’t hear her enter the apartment. The music in my fingers was too loud and consuming for me to be aware of another presence. That was the best thing about it. Music could fill your head and allow you to escape the constant worries that consumed you.

A buzzing sound went off, and my playing ceased. I turned, saw her outfit, and tried to suppress a smile.

“Oh, go on, say it. You know you want to,” she sighed.

God, this woman. Even when my deepest fears tried to drag me down, she always found some way to make me feel lighter.

I released the smile I’d withheld and replied, “What on earth are you wearing?”

The tent was full. I wasn’t quite sure why, because I’d been nothing but a rude, careless drunk to these people for years, but it appeared the entire circus was there to attend our wedding. Every time they saw me now, they seemed taken aback by how much I’d changed.

Christ, every time I saw me now, I was taken aback by how much I’d changed.

I wore a fitted tux, designed by Jay’s wife, Matilda. She’d also designed Alexis’ dress, but I wasn’t allowed to see it yet. I believed in my sister’s superstitions about as much as Jay did, but still, I indulged her. Marina had kept me from going over the edge for a really long time.

Speaking of my half-sister, she was the one officiating the ceremony, and she wore her ringmaster’s outfit, complete with top hat and tails. Jack stood by my side; I’d always found his presence soothing, even when I was so far gone I’d forget entire weeks. Just like Marina, he’d been a rock to me, and probably the only one brave enough to grip me by the balls (metaphorically speaking) and tell me the truth that the way I was living was going to kill me.

Of course, I didn’t listen to him. It was only when Alexis came back into my life that I remembered I wasn’t me. Drinking wasn’t me. And that I was far stronger than I’d given myself credit for.

The music began to play, and I turned to see her walking down the aisle. Her dress was beautiful, her face radiant, and when she stopped to stand in front of me, I told her so.

She sat astride me, and I couldn’t hide my arousal. She was well aware of it, too, but her reaction wasn’t what I expected. Something forced my gaze down, away from her pretty lips and beautiful eyes, and I saw her nipples were hard. All in an instant, everything fell into place. She’d been lying; she must have been. And I was pissed. Pissed and aroused, and yes, smug as fuck. Mere seconds passed, and already I was imagining all the ways I was going to take her. I wanted to grip her thick, dark hair as I plunged myself into her soft, welcoming body.

She trembled when I leaned in close enough that our lips almost brushed and whispered, “I fucking knew it.”

Oliver was our page boy. He also sat beside me throughout the reception, and I spent most of my time talking to him rather than mingling with the guests. I’d missed so much, and every moment felt like a new opportunity to reclaim something of those lost years.

“I think your wife might like to dance with you now,” Alexis murmured in my ear, the husky quality to her voice sending a thrill down my spine. I’d spent weeks asking her to marry me, and she’d finally said yes. Now here we were, six months later. The circus had returned to London, and we were husband and wife in a wedding that had been nothing short of unique.

I took her hand in mine, and Mum came to take my empty seat beside Oliver. She looked happier than I’d seen her since I was a teenager. After all the time I’d spent thinking she was dead, it felt a little bit miraculous to have her before me, alive and so much healthier than she’d ever been.

Leading my wife to the dance floor, I slid my arms around her waist, pulled her close to my body, and swayed us both to the rhythm of the music. Her hair smelled of lilacs and her skin of the sun. Her light olive tan looked pretty against the white of her dress, and I fingered the hem at the back, hardly able to wait until tonight when I got her alone. She gave a little shiver and rested her head on my shoulder.