“Not since Dax became head of the Blackwater Pack. He showed up at my apartment with Chinese takeout and a ring hidden in the fortune cookie."
I'm grinning like an idiot now, bouncing slightly on my toes, but realizing that my BFF has kept a secret from me. Sure, I knew she was dating Dax. But him being leader of a pack, that’s a different story. Then again, after his old man died, I assumed the position would go to him, not his brother. "That's the most Dax thing I've ever heard. Did your fortune actually say 'Will you marry me?'"
"It said 'Your future holds great happiness with the right alpha.' But he'd written 'Will you marry me, Emma?' on the back in his terrible handwriting. I almost missed it because I was too busy trying to figure out why my fortune cookie tasted like plastic."
"Because it had a ring in it, you absolute muffin." I'm laughing so hard I'm starting to snort, which is not my most attractive sound. "This is perfect. This is so perfectly you two that I might actually cry."
"Don't cry yet, because here's the thing..." Emma's voice takes on that tone she gets when she's about to ask me for something big. The same tone she used when she talked me into dying her hair purple in high school. "I need you to plan the wedding."
And just like that, my happy bubble pops like a balloon at a cactus convention.
"Em..." I start, but she bulldozes right over me.
"Before you say no, hear me out. I know it's been eight years since... you know. Since you left and vowed to never come back. But Sav, you're the best wedding planner I know, and more importantly, you're my best friend. I can't imagine getting married without you there, and I can't trust anyone else to make my day perfect."
My stomach does that twisty thing it does when I think about going home to Pine Hollow. Home to where Logan still runs the fire department with those storm-gray eyes that used to look at me like I was his whole world. Where Griff probably still builds houses with those ridiculously capable hands that used to trace patterns on my skin. Where Dr. Xavier Blackwell probably still thinks he can fix everyone's problems with his medical degree and his insufferable arrogance and those perfect lips that used to whisper my name like a prayer.
"Emma, you know I love you, but..." I pause, trying to find words that don't make me sound like a complete coward. "Maybe you could find someone local?"
"Savannah Marie Hale, are you really trying to get out of being there for me.” Emma's using her stern voice, the one she perfected during her brief stint as a kindergarten teacher before she realized five-year-olds are basically tiny drunk people with no impulse control. "It's been eight years. Hell, they've probably forgotten you exist."
That stings more than it should, a sharp little knife between my ribs. "Thanks for the confidence boost, bestie."
"You know what I mean. You're not the same omega who left Pine Hollow with her tail between her legs. You're Savannah Hale, owner of the most successful wedding planning business in Denver. You've planned weddings for celebrities, politicians, and that one tech billionaire who insisted on living unicorns."
"They were horses with horns glued on, and I still have PTSD from that event." The memory makes me shudder. Those poor horses looked so confused.
"My point is, you're a boss omega who doesn't need to hide from anyone. Besides, it's Christmas Eve. The most magical time of year. What could go wrong?"
"You've used every emotional blackmail tactic in the book, wait what did you say about Christmas Eve? That's about three months away."
"I want to get married for Christmas."
Of course, she does. That's every girl's fantasy and Emma has always made it clear that it's hers. Before I can say another word, I'm interrupted.
"Sav," Sharon hisses, trying to whisper-shout across the garden. "We have a situation. A big one."
My stomach drops like it's bungee jumping without a cord. "Em, I have to go. Something's happening here."
"Think about it, okay? I'm not taking no for an answer, but I'll give you twenty-four hours to process."
"Em..."
"Twenty-four hours, Sav. I love you."
She hangs up before I can argue, leaving me standing in a winter garden with a phone in my hand and a growing sense of dread. Sharon is practically vibrating with anxiety, and her usually composed omega scent is sharp with panic.
"What happened?" I ask, hurrying toward her on my stupid, impractical heels that I wear because they make me look taller and more authoritative. The stone pathway is slippery, and I have to grab the fountain for balance.
"The bride's dress," Sharon says, her voice cracking like she's announcing the apocalypse. "It's... it's gone."
"Gone? What do you mean gone? Dresses don't just vanish into thin air. This isn't Hogwarts." My mind is aracing through possibilities. Theft? Fire? Did someone accidentally pack it with the linens? “Besides the last time I saw her, she was dancing in it.”
"Someone spilled an entire bottle of red wine on it. Like, the whole bottle. It looks like a crime scene. Sarah's in the bridal suite crying, and her pack is about ready to murder someone. Devon actually growled at the catering staff."
I close my eyes and count to five, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth like my yoga instructor taught me before I realized that downward dog was not, in fact, going to solve my life problems. This is not happening. Not tonight. Not when I have a perfect reputation to maintain.
"Okay, deep breath. We can fix this. Who spilled the wine?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
