His only answer was a soft grunt. Then he was breathing deeply, his body heavy, muscles soft.
The door creaked, and Spud and the dragon-pig slunk into the room. Spud jumped on the bed first, carefully curling up behind Ryder’s back. The dragon-pig was next, plodding up until it settled like a warm round heater at my back.
I opened my mouth to tell them not to bump Ryder’s arm, but the dragon-pig nuzzled my neck, its breath warm and even.
Sleep came with soft clouds.
Chapter Twenty
“Are Hatter and Shoe out there?”I stood up from the velvet loveseat, that looked like it’d been plucked off a museum shelf, and started to the door.
“Nope,” Myra said, standing in front of Bertie’s office door and catching my wrist. “No leaving this room. Not until it’s time to walk down the aisle.”
“But security. I need to check to make sure they’re handling the crowd.”
“Oh, my gods,” Jean breathed. “This is amazing.”
I turned and glared at the phone she was using to film me. “Put that down.”
“Not on your life,” she laughed. “These are precious, precious memories I am going to cackle over for years.”
“Don’t—” I moved to make a grab for the camera, but Myra held onto my wrist.
“Stop it,” she said. “Both of you.”
“Me?” Jean said.
“Stop antagonizing her.”
I pointed at Jean. “Yeah. Stop antagonizing me.”
“She’s very delicate and dramatic right now,” Myra added.
“Hey!” I said, betrayed.
But Myra was grinning, and the moment hit me. She was wearing a 1950s-style summer dress with a lace shrug, all of it in beautiful blues and purples. She had pearls at her ears and neck, and she’d tucked a tiny bright yellow rose in her hair.
She was beautiful.
“Oh no,” she said, her gaze going everywhere on my face at once. “No crying. We just got your mascara right.”
“What set you off this time?” Jean asked.
“You’re just so beautiful,” I told Myra.
Myra threw a panicked gaze over my shoulder.
“Hey,” Jean said. “Hey, Delaney. Turn around, I need to tell you something.”
I turned, the skirt of my very lacy, very formal, very white wedding gown—weddinggown—hushed around my feet like the softest ocean wave.
I sniffed.
“What about me?” Jean asked. “Am I pretty too?”
She had on a full-length dress with a pale orange under layer and a layer of yellow lace with butterflies stitched into it. Her hair was blonde and combed into soft waves. She’d tucked a trio of tiny, bright blue cornflowers behind her ear.
She was nodding. “I’m pretty too, right?”
