It doesn’t last, though, as Amy's voice cuts through the silence. “Well, thank fuck that's over. Can we party now, or are you two gonna keep making everyone cry?”
The tension breaks, and laughter ripples through the room. Someone whoops, and the music kicks back up, louder than before.
I stand and pull Hope to her feet, but I don't let her go. “I'm sorry,” I whisper again, just for her. “I'm going to be the husband you deserve. I swear.”
“I’ll be the wife you deserve,” she whispers back, her eyes bright despite the tears.
I dip my head and press my lips to hers. The kiss is soft at first, and then deeper. I pour everything I feel into it. The fear, the love, the desperation, and the relief that she forgave me.
My hands slide into her hair, and she presses against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. The kiss is intense, raw, and I don't care that everyone's watching. I don't care about anything except her.
The clubhouse erupts into catcalls, whistles, and cheers.
“Get a room!”
“Save it for the wedding night!”
“That's our boy!”
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. I rest my forehead against hers, my hands still tangled in her hair.
“Two more days,” I say, my voice rough. “And you’ll be my wife. No doubts, no fear… Just you and me.”
She smiles, tears still on her cheeks. “It can't come soon enough.”
I kiss her again, softer this time, and the brothers cheer louder.
When I pull back, Chaos is grinning at me, shaking his head. “You're still an idiot,” he says.
“Yep,” I agree. “But I'm her idiot.”
Hope laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day.
CHAPTER 12
HOPE
Iwake up to the sound of my alarm going off, and for a moment, I forget where I am. I glance around the room to see the white desk from my childhood. As I blink back the fog, it hits me that today's the day I get married. My heart does this little flip in my chest, part nerves, and part pure excitement. I stretch under the covers, smiling at the ceiling. After everything that’s happened the past two weeks, the misunderstanding, the tears, the reconciliation, the day has finally arrived. In a few hours, I'll be Mrs. Deacon Stone.
Mrs. Hope Stone. God, I love the sound of that.
I throw off the covers and pad across the room to the closet door, where my garment bag hangs. The beautiful ivory lace dress that made me cry in the boutique is the same dress that's going to make Frost's jaw drop when he sees me walking toward him.
My fingers find the zipper, and I pull it down slowly, anticipation building with every inch. The bag falls open, and my mouth drops in absolute horror. Pepto Bismol pink taffeta stares back at me. Not ivory lace with the champagne silk. This is definitely not my dress. In front of me in the bag is the ugliest pink, shiny, bridesmaid’s dress ever made.
“No,” I whisper, my hands shaking as I pull the dress out further.
I hope and pray that maybe my dress is underneath, that this is just some weird protective layer, or maybe they put someone else’s dress in with mine by mistake. I dig through the bag, but it’s not there. Only this monstrosity remains.
“No, no, no, no, no.” My voice gets louder with each word. “This isn't… Where's my…how di?—”
Panic hits me in the gut like a freight train. It’s the wrong dress. They sent me home with the wrong fucking dress, or someone grabbed the wrong bag. I don't know what the hell happened, but my wedding dress is gone, and I'm holding what looks like a rejected prom dress from 1987.
There's no time to fix this. The wedding is in six hours. There isn’t nearly enough time to make it to Truth or Consequences before the wedding starts, and we can’t afford to delay it.
My breathing gets faster, shallower. What am I going to do? What am I going to wear? I can't get married in this. I can't. A loud booming sound cuts through my mental spiral.
Thunder?
