"Yes."
Griff's sandalwood scent carries something that might be understanding, might be disappointment. He leans back slowly, the chair creaking under his weight. "All this time, we thought..."
"That she just got tired of small-town life?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "She left because the man she'd been waiting for, planning a future with, told her they weren't compatible after she'd already given him everything."
"Logan..." Xavier starts, but I cut him off with a sharp look.
"So yeah, working with her is going to be fucking complicated. Not because we all dated her, but because I'm the one who broke her heart badly enough to make her leave everything behind."
The kitchen falls silent except for the steady drip of coffee and the low hum of the refrigerator. My own guilt echoes off the walls like a confession I should have made years ago.
"What now?" Griff asks finally, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
"Dax doesn't know shit. And it's staying that way." I stand up, the chair legs scraping against the floor, carrying my plate to the sink because routine motions help when everything else feels like it's falling apart. "We're going to help Dax get his perfect wedding."
"Maybe you should talk to her," Xavier suggests with typical clinical optimism, setting his mug down gently. "Explain what happened, apologize..."
"For not being ready for marriage at twenty-two?" I rinse my plate with more force than necessary, water splashing against my hands. "Some mistakes don't get fixed with apologies, Xavier. Some things stay broken."
"But maybe..." Griff starts, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.
"Nothing. She built a life without us, without Pine Hollow, without me. Good for her. She deserves better than what I could give her then, and probably better than what I can give her now."
I turn to face them, seeing my own guilt reflected in their expressions. "So when Christmas Eve comes and she's at Emma's perfect wedding, we smile, we do our jobs, and we remember that some chapters are supposed to stay closed."
My jaw tightens. Seeing Savannah again means facing the biggest regret of my life, and I'm not sure any of us are ready for that conversation.
4
SAVANNAH
I'm nearly out of my last tub of Ben & Jerry's, after overindulging while Netflix has been playing tricks on me, making me watch too many rom-coms, from Sweet Home Alabama to Nappily Ever After. It has been two weeks since my last wedding, and the cancellations haven't stopped rolling in. Alphas calling asking if I do a background check on their omegas before signing up to do their weddings. I'm not a bank nor leasing a property nor a car. Why the fuck would I do a background check? Either way, when I tell them that their money is non-refundable, they don't care and some of them I do have to refund, which would be great if I hadn't already paid for the cake, photographer and even the damn venue, who refuse to give me my money back. My bank account is like a piece of chocolate in a sauna. One minute I was small business of the year, the next I could become Bourbon Bliss Bankruptcy. No pressure whatsoever.
The worst call came yesterday from some omega in Boulder who wanted to know if I offered "pack protection services" in case her birth pack, mated pack, bound pack, and "emotional support pack" all showed up uninvited to her wedding. How many packs does one omega need these days? I had to explainthat I'm a wedding planner, not a security firm, and that maybe she should consider eloping if she's expecting a small war to break out at her reception.
It's six AM and I'm standing in my underwear, glaring at my bathroom mirror knowing that if I keep eating too much that none of my clothes will fit and I will have to give up my apartment. But I don't care. I had to let go of the one thing I was proud of, which was having an assistant. The bags under my eyes could pack for a weeklong vacation, and my skin has that attractive grayish pallor that screams "I survive on chocolate and ice cream."
I have to go to Pine Hollow and organize Emma's wedding. Not only will it mean damage control for my rapidly sinking business, but it could help me face my demons in the form of the one alpha who broke my heart and the other two who were just jerks with commitment issues and poor communication skills. What could possibly go wrong with that brilliant plan?
It's time for some serious damage control.
First priority: suppressants. I dry-swallow two pills, gagging at the bitter chalk taste that makes my eyes water. Can't have my omega scent broadcasting my emotional train wreck the second I step foot in Pine Hollow.
Next mission: hair. I plug in my ancient curling iron, the one that makes electrical noises but still works if you sweet-talk it properly. While it heats up, I slather moisturizer on my face like I'm frosting a particularly sad cake, trying to convince my skin that I get eight hours of sleep and eat actual vegetables instead of surviving on stress and whatever's on sale.
The curling iron immediately burns my finger because of course it does. Because the universe clearly woke up this morning and chose violence.
"Ow! You vindictive piece of..." I wave my hand around like I'm conducting an invisible orchestra of pain while sucking onmy injured finger. "Get it together, Savannah. You're supposed to be a professional, not a walking disaster movie.”
My phone buzzes against the bathroom counter, Emma’s probably wanting to discuss centerpieces or cake flavors or any of the thousand magical details that make weddings perfect. Details I'm actually good at when I'm not having a complete existential breakdown about my career choices.
Instead of a call, there's a text message waiting like a little digital present that might explode.
Emma: Can't wait for you to get here! Three months is going to fly by.
I type back while attempting to curl my hair one-handed, which is about as graceful as it sounds.
Me: Me too! Quick question though - are Xavier, Logan, and Griff still in Pine Hollow? Just want to mentally prepare myself if I run into them buying milk or whatever.
