For a long moment Willow was quiet. Then she shook her head. “It’s my first instinct too—heck, I was just doing it again, saying it’s fine because his hand’s open when he hits stuff. But it’s not right to downplay for him. We’ve got to stop doing that, Saffron.”
Saffron stared at her.
Their server set a heaping plate of brownie and vanilla ice cream in front of them, along with three spoons. Saffron began eating, her face devoid of pleasure, her scent coated with confusion. At last she set her spoon down and looked up to meet their eyes.
“You realize we’ve never talked like this before? I literally don’t know what to do with it.”
“Take some time with it,” Willow said. “I’m here in the meantime, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. I…I don’t love how true it feels. I want you to be wrong, but I just said Dad’s wrong, so…”
They were quiet for the next few minutes, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. Saffron dug back into the brownie with enjoyment that grew as she began to relax again. Under the table Willow squeezed Ezra’s hand, and he squeezed back.
When they’d finished dessert and he’d paid the bill, they walked together to Saffron’s car. She gave Willow a long hug.
“Thank you,” she said to both Willow and Ezra. “For giving me a chance and…and not hating me.”
“I love you,” Willow said. “And I’m glad we did this. I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
When her sister had driven away and Ezra had walked Willow to her car, she set her hand on his chest and rubbed a slow circle. “You gave her a gift. I hope she sees it—if not today then soon.”
“Guess time will tell,” Ezra said.
“And you’re okay with that, with not knowing how it’ll all work out?”
He smiled at the gentle tease in her voice. “I’m learning too.”
Twenty-Nine
MarchintheTennesseemountains could freeze a body to death, or it could spring up into the seventies. An ice storm the previous week had caused some doubts, but this weekend, fate had smiled on Ezra’s longing for an outdoor reception party, and light jackets were enough. Park pavilion or not, potential grass stains or not, Willow flounced her floor-length white dress and reveled in the purple wedges that sported a blinding array of rhinestones on every strap. The purple knit shrug was a blessing though, given the sleevelessness of said dress. No, not her wedding dress. The skirt sported tiny purple flowers on green stems, spraying upward from the hem.
At her side, her mate circled an arm around her shoulders. “Cold?”
“If my teeth are chattering, it’s more nerves than cold.”
He growled for her ears only—well, hers and every wolf’s under the pavilion. “Yeah. Too many people.”
She angled a look up at him and enjoyed yet again the way he filled out his tailored black suit jacket, white shirt, and…yes, those black pants, also tailored, simple dress slacks that he had never intended for sex appeal. Fail.
His mouth twitched, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Mrs. Willow Sterling.”
Yes. Ezra’s wife and his bonded mate, until and beyond the falling of the moon. Civil ceremony last week, bonding ceremony the week before that.
“We can do this,” Willow said. “We already survived the pack’s celebration at the alpha’s house.”
“Different,” Ezra said. “But I’m ready if you are.”
“Let’s do it.”
They stepped out from behind a granddaddy of a magnolia tree, into view of the pavilion. Saffron raised a cheer. “The bride and groom! Everybody! The bride and groom have arrived!”
Willow laughed as applause rang out, tucked her arm into Ezra’s, and crossed the ten feet from tree to pavilion. Along the far side—not wall since there weren’t any—tables were spread with a potluck whose smells made her mouth water. The rest of the tables were arranged throughout, surrounded by chairs and benches. It was a motley assortment of furnishings her sister had pulled together, borrowed and begged from most of the folks in attendance.
Wearing a tea-length frock the color of her namesake spice, Saffron beelined to Ezra and Willow.
“Thought y’all would never make an appearance,” she said with a grin. “Thought you’d change your minds and head for home.”
