The way he saysangelisn’t casual—it’s reverent.
Mac shoots him a playful glare. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous because he didn’t get to help me pick out your dress.”
“You mean the two dresses,” Trey says dryly. “Because apparently one wasn’t enough.”
“Of course not!” Mac exclaims, tossing her hair dramatically. “What if she didn’t like satin? What if she wanted lace? What if she wanted both? It’s her wedding day, Baker—priorities.”
Logan chuckles, sipping his coffee. “She’s been up since four ironing.”
“I wanted it perfect,” Mac says with a shrug. Then she turns to me, her smile softening. “You deserve a perfect morning, Sera.”
The words hit me in a place I didn’t know was still fragile. My throat tightens, and I look away, focusing on the cups of coffee, the dresses still in their garment bags, the sunlight spilling across the room.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Trey’s hand brushes my back, a quiet, grounding touch. “Told you she’s harmless,” he murmurs.
Mac grins. “Mostly.”
Mac claps her hands suddenly, startling me. “Right, boys—out!
Trey blinks, halfway through reaching for the coffee Logan brought up. “Out?”
“Yes, out,” Mac says, pointing toward the door like a tiny, blonde general. “Bride business. Girl time. It’s tradition.”
Logan raises an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth. “You really believe in that superstition?”
“I believe in tradition,” she says sweetly, “and in getting this girl looking like the goddess she is.”
Trey makes a face, glancing down at himself. “Mac, I haven’t even got any clothes on.”
Mac’s gaze flicks over him—then she folds her arms, unimpressed. “You don’t need clothes. You need a shower. Use our room. Logan, make sure he wears what I ordered.”
Logan groans. “You ordered me clothes, too, didn’t you?”
“Obviously,” she says, flicking her hand. “You’re all going to match. It’s going to be beautiful.”
Trey groans. “Beautiful isn’t really my aesthetic.”
“Neither is stinking up the ceremony with last night’s breath,” Mac shoots back. “Shower. Now.”
Before he can protest further, she claps her hands again and starts ushering them toward the door. Logan leans down and presses a kiss to her lips, murmuring something that makes her grin, before he turns and strolls out—completely unbothered.
Trey lingers in the doorway, glancing back at me with that wicked glint in his eyes. He steps close enough that I can feel the warmth rolling off him, dips his head slightly, and whisper-shouts,
“Blink twice if you want me to get you out of here. Right now.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. It feels strange and free and foreign, bubbling up from somewhere I thought had long been buried.
Mac doesn’t miss a beat—she smacks him lightly across the back of the head.
“Go!”
He chuckles, rubbing the spot, then shoots me a grin over his shoulder as he finally disappears down the hall. The door clicks shut behind him, and suddenly, it’s quiet. Just Mac and me, sunlight spilling across the room and the soft rustle of fabric as she starts unpacking the dresses.
She looks up at me and smiles—warm, genuine, all bright energy and fierce kindness.
“Alright, Sera,” she says softly, “let’s make you a bride.”
