Sarah knew. Had probably always known. The woman had raised me, watched me lie about where bruises came from when the twins partially shifted during tantrums. She’d never said anything, just accepted it all with the same calm that got us through my parents’ death.
“You were always meant for something special,” she said quietly while we folded programs. “Even if I didn’t expect... this.” She gestured vaguely at Hunt, who was practicing flower arrangements with deadly seriousness.
“Does it bother you?” I asked, genuinely worried about her answer.
“That you’re marrying into a family of large, strange dogs?” She smiled. “Sweetheart, you’ve been half-feral yourself since you were fifteen. At least now I understand why.”
Mika and Vivi threw themselves into bridesmaid duties with enthusiasm that bordered on terrifying. They coordinated with the pack women, bridging the gap between human and wolf traditions through sheer determination and lots of wine.
“Girl, your bite mark is so sexy,” Mika said during dress fittings, helping me adjust the neckline to show it off properly. “Very territorial. I approve.”
“Is it weird that I find it hot?” Vivi asked, tilting her head to study the mark. “Like, that’s basically a permanent hickey that says ‘Property of Knox Raven’ and somehow that’s working for me.”
“Everything works for you,” I reminded her. “You tried to flirt with three different wolves yesterday.”
“They all smell so good!” she defended. “And the way they growl when they’re interested? Chef’s kiss.”
The pack embraced human traditions with competitive fervor once they understood we were really doing this. Cole threw himself into constructing a massive dance floor in the town square, working until his hands bled to make up for his betrayal. Hunt mastered flower arranging with disturbing intensity. Even Marcus and Serena got involved, though their version of helping was terrifying vendors into giving us discounts.
“Your mother-in-law just made the cake decorator cry,” Vivi reported one afternoon.
“What did she do?”
“Existed, mostly. But we’re getting a forty percent discount, so...”
The twins practiced their ring bearer and flower girl duties with dedication. Rowan carried a pillow around the house for days, refusing to put it down even during meals. Thea practiced tossing petals with mathematical precision, determining the optimal throwing angle for maximum coverage.
“Mama, what if I run out of flowers?” she asked seriously the night before the wedding.
“Then you just walk normally,” I assured her.
“But what if people are sad without flowers?”
“No one will be sad, baby.”
She looked skeptical but agreed to have backup petals in her basket, just in case of flower emergencies.
The morning of the wedding arrived with typical Pine Valley drama. It was raining, because of course it was. Sarah bustled around my room at Noah’s house, managing my breakdown with efficiency.
“The flowers are wilting,” I said, staring at the drooping bouquet.
“They’re rustic,” she corrected.
“My hair won’t cooperate.”
“It’s romantically tousled.”
“What if he changes his mind?”
Sarah paused in her bustling to give me a look that could have stripped paint. “That boy has been vibrating with excitement for three weeks. Yesterday I caught him practicing his vows on a coffee cup. He’s not changing his mind.”
Mika and Vivi arrived in a whirlwind of purple fabric and excited chatter. They’d chosen deep purple bridesmaids dresses that complemented my mother’s wedding dress, which had been altered to perfectly frame Knox’s mark on my neck.
“Boss, you look incredible,” Vivi breathed, tears already threatening her mascara.
“Don’t you dare cry yet,” Mika ordered, wielding setting spray like a weapon. “We have photos first.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Vivi continued, ignoring the threat. “In your coffee shop. To a werewolf. This is like a paranormal romance novel but better because I get to be in it.”
