Igrid’s cerulean eyes flash up to mine as a black bead forms on my fingertip.
“Oh, no, did I get you, missy?”
She pauses sticking tiny pins along the bottom of my bridesmaid dress for tomorrow.
I shake my head. “It was all me. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Mar glances up from the book in her lap. Dover is snoozing beside her, his cheek propped on his hand.
“I’m almost through here,” Igrid promises.
“Still too long in my humble opinion.”
I turn toward Kai—who is, of course, making himself at home on my bed. “You think so? It has to at least come to the top of my shoes.”
He sighs, sliding off the bed and sauntering over. “You don’t want to be tripping over yourself all evening. We’re all well acquainted with your level of coordination.”
“Wow, nice.”
“I think it has to be at least—” He reaches down, hoisting the dressup to my thigh. “There. That’s perfect.”
“You little shit.” I give him a playful shove, turning when I hear a light knock on my door.
Jace steps through, drinking in the sight of me in the silver floor-length gown.
“You’re going to catch flies if you don’t close your mouth, Captain,” Mar mutters, flipping a page. “Forgive me, I mean,King,” she says, not an ounce of apology in her voice.
Jace’s face turns red as he blinks away from me. “Kai said we were meeting here.”
Right on cue, Kai ambles toward him, rubbing his hands together in a diabolical manner.
“Jace, you devil! Last night of freedom,” he sings, kicking Dover awake. “You don’t expect we’ll let you live it peacefully, do you?”
Jace looks mortified.
“Don’t give me that look. I’ve taken great care in planning tonight’s festivities!” Kai grips the back of his neck and gives him a shake, mischief oozing from his every pore.
“Any excuse for debauchery.” Dover sits up, stretching his arms toward the painted ceiling. He leans in to plant a quick kiss on Mar’s cheek as Kai hauls Jace toward the door.
“Donotdo anything stupid.” Mar closes her book. “Kai, I’m serious. He has to walk down an aisle tomorrow!”
“He’ll be good as new by morning. Cross my heart.” He winks. “Don’t wait up.”
“Didn’t plan on it.”
Igrid stands, sticking a spare pin back into its velvet cushion. “All done. I’ll have it ready by morning.”
“Thank you, Igrid.” I offer her as much of a smile as I can, slipping out of the dress and into the silk robe she holds out.
“How are you?” Mar asks once we’re alone.
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that. It’s a wedding, not a funeral.”
She angles her head, giving me a doubtful look. “It’s not just any old wedding.”
“Still. I’m fine.”
“I never liked weddings.” Mar gets to her feet. “But if the boys get to have their fun, then so do we.”
