She had been the wolf. And she’d been so alone.
I swallow, thinking about the way Shawn had struggled against the beastly transformation last night.
Deanna sighs and says to Laura, “Do me a favor, if you see him, will you get him to do something with his hair? He’s always been difficult about that.”
“What, like a bun? French twist? High ponytail?”
“I can fishtail braid,” Ava offers brightly.
Deanna waves a hand, checking her phone briefly. She says over her shoulder as she leaves us, “As long as it looks presentable.”
“Ooh, what if we do a bun, but we stick some flowers in it,” Ava whispers to Laura, eyes lighting up with her idea. Her hand dips into the box of flower bits preemptively.
Laura snorts. “Good luck with that.”
“Ok, maybe no flowers. But there’s ribbon, and who would say no to that?”
I think she may be the only person in this house having a fun time with the preparations. I envy her for a moment.
She might also be the only other human in the house right now, until my waitstaff get here for the reception. My plan is to prep them while the guests arrive and are being seated, and then at least catch the end of the ceremony from the back row.
“Well, until then...Elise, I’ve got plenty of rosebuds,” she offers, wiggling her eyebrows. I can see her planning how she’s going to pin them around my bun already.
I smile and give my head a little shake. “I’m going to be in the kitchen all day, I can’t. I don’t want anything falling into the food while I’m working.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess,” she admits, and the thought does seem to deflate her enthusiasm for a moment.
“But I will say yes to the ribbon.”
That seems to satisfy her. Ava jogs across the room and ducks into the little ensuite bathroom where Laura’s fold-out makeup case has been spread out across the vanity, looking for the roll of ribbon.
I glimpse some movement out in the hall, and my heartbeat picks up for a moment hoping it’s Shawn. It’s not. Still, I call out, “Logan!”
I swear I can see the thought of just ignoring me tense up in his shoulders. He stops and turns around reluctantly.
“What do you want?” he says, instead of a greeting, and it’s oddly cold from him.
“Your mom said you’d be coming back with Shawn?” I start to ask, but the words become quieter as he glares at me. It’s the same sort of pinched look he normally reserves for Shawn.
“What could you possibly need from him right now?”
Ok, the attitude isn’t cute. I’m about to tattle to his mom in a second if he keeps this up.
“Never mind. Just get in here.” I roll my eyes and wave him into the room, and he begrudgingly follows in. “Laura, he’s all yours.”
He looks tired, more than usual, dark circles under eyes, his long hair loose and untamed. He’s barely made an effort to get dressed for the event, just wearing formal black pants and a mostly buttoned white shirt. You’d have thought he was a waiter instead of the groom.
“And what do you want?” The question is directed at Laura with his usual tired exasperation, and she is clearly used to it enough to not take offense.
“There’s some time before the lady of the hour gets here, so I was told to do your hair. Since clearly you weren’t going to,” she says, with just a hint of a fiendish smile.
“Hm. Yeah, no. See ya,” he says, as monosyllabic in his word choice as he usually is.
“Get back here,” Laura grumbles, lunging quickly enough that she can put a hand across the doorway before he canwalk back out, but he ducks under her arm fluidly. Laura only succeeds in catching him because she takes a dive and catches her arms around his neck.
I know now that they’re both werewolves, but watching the way they move and interact, I’m surprised that I never suspected anything before. It’s not unsubtle.
Eventually Laura tugs him back into the room and he sits in the chair, leaning back slowly, like he’s expecting torture. “Put the scissors away.”
