Arthur sat in the middle of the chaos, whiskey in hand, jaw clenching as his brothers and groomsmen laughed around him. His hair and beard were being trimmed, but his mind was elsewhere—on you. On the fact that he hadn’t slept, that you weren’t beside him, and it was driving him insane.

And then, the room fell silent.

You walked in—barefaced, covered in creams from head to toe, wearing shorts, a sports bra, and the most ridiculous Grinch flip-flops. The sight was so absurd that even the rowdiest of the men were stunned into silence.

Arthur blinked once, twice—then a slow, wolfish grin stretched across his face. “Jesus Christ, woman… the fuck did they do to ya?” he rasped, amusement laced in his gruff voice, eyes devouring you despite the state you were in.

His brothers burst out laughing, but Arthur? He just sat there, utterly in love, whiskey forgotten in his hand, knowing that in a few hours, you’d be his forever.