"Thank you all for coming," Xavier begins, his voice steady despite the nervous energy radiating from his rigid posture.
"Is someone dying?" Dax asks bluntly, leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees. "Because if this is about wedding planning, I've got three emergency surgeries tomorrow."
"No one is dying," Xavier replies, though his fingers drum once against the desk before he catches himself. "But we have just under two months until your wedding, and everything that can go wrong is going wrong. We have a frustrated omega at home who's ready to quit, and a bride who may run away if we don't get our act together."
Griff straightens up abruptly, pushing off the wall with his shoulders. "What do you mean, ready to quit? Savannah's not a quitter."
"Savannah agreed to organize a simple wedding, not manage a disaster caused by pack members who can't handle basic responsibilities." Xavier's voice carries an edge, and his hands clench briefly before he forces them flat against the desk. "She's been cleaning up everyone's messes, handling vendor crises alone, and dealing with territorial behavior from pack members who think living in the same house gives them ownership rights."
His eyes find mine and hold, and I feel my jaw tighten involuntarily. The marking incident. I shift in my chair, my hands gripping the armrests harder than necessary.
"It's just a wedding," Derek interrupts with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Flowers, cake, some guy talking about love. Done."
"That's what we thought too," Ryan adds, finally looking up from his phone with a shrug. "Emma said she wanted something simple."
Xavier adjusts his glasses with precise movements, a tell I've learned means he's about to deliver bad news. "The guest list is currently at nine hundred and seventy-three people."
The silence that follows is deafening. I feel my eyebrows climb toward my hairline while Griff's mouth actually falls open. Dax sits back so hard his chair creaks. Derek's arms drop to his sides like someone cut his strings, and Ryan's phone nearly slips from his suddenly slack fingers.
"I'm sorry," Griff says slowly, running both hands through his sandy hair until it sticks up in wild spikes. "Did you just say almost a thousand people?"
"Nine hundred and seventy-three confirmed guests as of this afternoon," Xavier confirms, consulting his notebook with methodical precision. "Dax's extended family, Emma's college friends, your family and friends, professional contacts, and pack affiliations. The guest list exceeds the capacity of every available venue in Pine Hollow."
"What happened to a simple wedding?" Dax demands, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs.
"Emma wanted something simple. But she also didn't want to hurt feelings." Xavier's shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “Besides, how come you don’t know how many people are invited to your own wedding?”
He avoids eye contact, which means that he hasn’t been attentive at all.
"So we're feeding almost a thousand people in seven weeks,” Derek says flatly, pushing off the medical cabinet to pace the small space between the wall and Dax's chair. "That's disaster management."
"There is no venue in Pine Hollow that can accommodate nine hundred and seventy-three guests," Xavier continues, his finger tracing down his notes. "The largest space is the community center, which maxes out at three hundred."
Griff starts pacing too, moving from the window to the door in three short steps before turning and repeating the pattern. "What about the high school gymnasium?"
"Booked for graduation rehearsals," Xavier says without looking up.
"The church fellowship hall?" Derek asks, stopping mid-pace to face Xavier.
"Two hundred person maximum, no alcohol," Dax says, rubbing his temples with the heels of his palms.
"The fairgrounds?" Derek tries again, his voice carrying less hope.
"No indoor facilities, seventy percent chance of rain," Xavier replies, finally looking up from his notes with the expression of a doctor delivering a terminal diagnosis.
This is why I hate meetings. Everyone talking about problems, no one offering solutions.
"So we've got almost a thousand people expecting a wedding in seven weeks, no venue, and an event planner ready to walk," I say, cutting through the circular conversation.
"Accurate summary," Xavier confirms.
"And Emma?"
"Emma is convinced her wedding will be a disaster and she should have eloped to Vegas."
"Fuck," Dax mutters.
"Actually," Xavier says, leaning forward with renewed energy, "there is a venue. We've just been thinking too small."
