I set down my pen and actually look around, because she's right. Usually two days before any event I plan, I'm running onpure caffeine and spite, juggling seventeen crises while trying not to have a complete mental breakdown in public spaces. But Emma's kitchen radiates the kind of calm efficiency that makes me deeply suspicious of the universe's motives.
"Okay, that is kind of miraculous," I admit, hopping off my stool to investigate her latest shopping expedition. “Are you sure that you didn't forget something huge? The marriage license? The rings? Your groom's actual existence?"
"Marriage license is framed on my dresser like a diploma, rings are locked in the safe like crown jewels, and Dax is currently at the vet clinic pretending to work while actually googling 'how to not cry during wedding vows.'" Emma starts arranging her survival supplies with systematic precision. "Double-checked this morning. He's definitely still planning on showing up."
"And the rehearsal dinner?"
"Completely handled! Dax went full alpha-provider mode and booked Rosetti's back room, ordered enough food to feed a small army, and personally called everyone to confirm attendance like he's running for office." Emma pauses, notebook pressed against her chest, and her whole face goes soft with that disgusting happiness that makes me want to simultaneously hug her and make gagging noises. "Savannah, he's been so stupidly attentive lately. Yesterday he brought me coffee in bed, reminded me to eat lunch because apparently I look like I forget basic human functions, and texted me pictures of puppies during my break just because he thought I looked stressed."
"Gross," I say automatically, though secretly I'm melting because Dax is being adorable and Emma deserves all the puppy pictures in the world. "What's gotten into him?"
Emma perches on the edge of her table, swinging her legs like we're twelve years old sharing secrets at the world's most organized sleepover. "Pack influence! You know how alphas getwhen someone's about to mate? Like they're trying to prove they can provide and protect and probably wrestle bears if necessary." She grins with the kind of wicked expression that makes me immediately suspicious. "Speaking of pack behavior, Logan dropped off the wedding programs yesterday and spent twenty minutes asking about your favorite flowers. Very casual. Very subtle. "
My stomach does something weird and acrobatic that makes me wonder if I'm developing some kind of digestive disorder. "He was probably just making conversation."
"Sure! And Griff's sudden interest in cake architecture has absolutely nothing to do with impressing you." Emma slides off the table and starts pulling wine glasses from her cabinet like she's preparing for battle. "And Xavier definitely didn't ask me three separate questions about what kind of music you like. Three! Separate! Questions!"
"They're just being nice." The words come out sounding pathetic even to my own ears.
"They're being territorial! There's a difference, and it's a big one!" Emma pops the champagne cork with satisfying authority, sending foam spilling across her counter in a way that would normally make me panic about cleaning but somehow seems celebratory. "Which brings me to my next point. When were you planning on telling me that you're basically living there now?"
I nearly choke on my own spit. "What?!"
"Oh please! You show up to coffee dates wearing men's flannel shirts that are three sizes too big!" Emma pours champagne into two glasses while fixing me with a look that suggests she's been collecting evidence like some kind of romantic detective. "Plus you smell different. Like you're carrying traces of three different alpha scents instead of just your usual vanilla bourbon. It's like you're a walking scent cocktail!"
Heat floods my cheeks so fast I probably look like a tomato, and I busy myself rearranging wedding favors to avoid eye contact because eye contact means having actual conversations about feelings and I'm not ready for that level of emotional terrorism.
"It's not what you think."
“Finally, you’re letting yourself have something good instead of running away screaming every time happiness gets too close." Emma slides a champagne glass across the counter toward me with the kind of gentle precision that means we're about to have A Conversation with capital letters. "What I think is that you've been sneaking around trying to figure out if this thing with them is real, and you're terrified to admit it might actually be working."
I take a large gulp of champagne, letting the bubbles burn away the automatic denial sitting on my tongue like a reflex. Because Emma's right. She's always stupidly, annoyingly right when it comes to reading me like I'm some kind of open book written in giant fonts.
"Okay, fine! Maybe we’re all sleeping in the same room. Sometimes…”
"And?"
"Most nights! Happy now?" The words come out in a rush because apparently champagne makes me confess things I've been trying very hard not to think about. "There! I said it! I'm basically living with three alphas and pretending it's all professional and platonic when it's absolutely not!"
Emma's champagne glass hits the counter with a clink that sounds suspiciously like victory. "All three of them? In the same bed? At the same time?"
"EMMA!"
"What?! I'm your best friend….” Emma leans forward across the counter, eyes bright with curiosity that has gotten us bothinto trouble since we were fifteen. "I deserve details! Are we talking actual sleeping, or are we talking..."
"We're talking actual sleeping!" I interrupt quickly, though my face is probably the color of Emma's wedding roses by now. "Mostly! Sometimes! Look, it's complicated, okay?! Everything about this situation is complicated!"
“How?" Emma makes it sound so simple, like falling for the three alphas who dumped me is just another item to check off her perfectly organized to-do list. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You're crazy about all three of them, they're obviously completely gone for you, and you're all adults who can figure out whatever arrangement makes everyone happy."
"It's not that easy!" I protest, but even I can hear how weak and pathetic the argument sounds.
"Why not?"
"Because!" I gesture wildly, searching for all the perfectly logical reasons why this situation is impossible and finding my brain completely empty of coherent thoughts. "Because what if they dump me again?"
"Sav." Emma's voice cuts through my spiral with surgical precision. "Shut up."
"Excuse me?"
