“You said it yourself—this town moves fast. And it’s where we started, isn’t it? Bonfire, cryptid weirdos, a thousand fairy lights and your thighs around my shoulders.”
She laughed, leaning in until our foreheads touched. “We’re gonna need help.”
“Already got it,” I said. “We rope in Willow and Rhett for the flower arrangements—she’ll go feral with the wildflowers. Delilah can do the playlist, and Silas has plenty of folding chairs from the church.”
“And June?”
“Oh, she’s definitely officiating,” I said. “Barefoot in the moss, talkin’ about love spells and sacred sex.”
Noelle gave a quiet, breathy laugh, her smile going soft. “And Beau?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You,” she said. “What’s Beau gonna be doing?”
“Bein’ the luckiest bastard alive,” I murmured. “Swearin’ I’ll never leave your side. Cryin’ like a baby while you walk toward me with that witchy little smile.”
Her face crumpled just a little, emotions piling up in the corners of her eyes.
I kissed them before they could fall. “So…what do you say, baby? Three weeks? Gloaming Festival wedding?”
She sniffed, then nodded hard. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I want to marry you, Beau Ward. I want the lights and the music and Milo in a bowtie. I want the bonfire. I want our weird little town there. I want you.”
“You got me,” I said, kissing her deep. “Forever.”
CHAPTER 29
Noelle
It all started as a joke.
Willow had called it a “love spell,” tossing the words out so breezily I hadn’t realized she was serious until she started rummaging through the kitchen drawers, muttering about tea strainers and candle stubs. Now, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Ward living room, surrounded by women who had somehow become my people. Delilah was perched on the couch in cutoff shorts and a glittery crop top, eating tortilla chips out of a mixing bowl. Willow had brought in some dried herbs, wrapped in a vintage handkerchief and tied with ribbon. June had a lighter between her teeth and a twinkle in her eye, barefoot and fully in her element.
“Have you heard from Flora?” Willow asked, looking up at Delilah. “She’s running late.”
“Yeah…she does that,” Delilah said. “Something about liminal spaces and the lack of accurate timekeeping in the Gloam.”
I snorted. “Does she know we’d be fine with it if she just lost track of time? I mean…she deserves a hell of a lot of leeway after rescuing us from a monster in the woods.”
“She does,” Delilah said with a grin, “but I think she enjoys the mystique.”
“I mean, don’t we all?” June struck a match and lit the first candle, eyes gleaming in the flicker. “Now hush. Let the vibes take hold.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. The air smelled like rosemary and something sharp and green—something Flora, probably—and I couldn’t help the way my body relaxed into it. There was something comforting in the ritual, even if it had started as a joke.
The front door creaked open, and I leaned forward to see Flora kicking off her hiking boots by the front door. She was wearing the same faded red duster she’d had on when she rescued us in the woods nearly a year ago, the same Yorkie—Pickles—tucked under her arm. She’d braided her hair behind her back, a few twigs stuck in it like she couldn’t be bothered to avoid nature creeping in.
“Sorry I’m late,” Flora said. “I hope you didn’t have to start without me?”
“Without you?” Delilah said. “Of course not. I don’t think I need to remind you we don’t know what the hell we’re doing.”
“I mean…I kind of know what I’m doing,” Willow offered, “but I’ll be more helpful when you have a baby.”
“Hey,” I said, “I’m not even sure about the baby thing yet, so just…chill.”
