Elliott took Henry’s sword, so Henry was off again on the chase.
I stood and took little Dane from Chloe so Oscar and Molly could work their magic on my beautiful daughter, who was now officially a teenager and boy crazy. Boy band posters littered her bedroom walls and I was monitoring her texts like a mad woman. I kissed my daughter’s cheek before she could get too far.
“You look beautiful, Mom.”
“Thank you, baby girl.” I smiled, thinking of the present Miles had for her later today after the ceremony. He was going to ask Chloe if he could officially adopt her. I had to stop thinking about it or I was going to ruin my makeup. For the first time in Leland’s life, he was going to do the right thing and relinquish his rights to Chloe. It had taken foreverto track him down. I had to go through Kylie’s parents. Sadly, I think he was relieved that’s why I was contacting him. It made me more grateful for the way Miles loved Chloe as if she were his own.
While I bounced little Dane, who was already a whopping fifteen pounds at four months old—I swore Emma produced cream for her twins—I watched Emma nurse Shannon, who was petite compared to her brother. I longed to be in her place. Miles had asked if we could have one of our own, even though he said it scared the hell out of him. I couldn’t wait to accommodate him.
Emma smiled up to me, tired, but happy. “I’ve become a cow.”
Shelby plopped down next to her on the couch and began nursing Maribelle, who no doubt would grow up to be as beautiful as her mother. She already had the crown of gold and big blue eyes. “Think of all the calories you’re burning.” Shelby tried to put a positive spin on it. Shelby, who was already back in her size two jeans. We would hate her if we didn’t love her so much.
“I’m just happy I can drink Dr. Pepper again. The babies love it.” Emma laughed before she took a swig of her nearby drink. I think the first thing she asked for after she delivered her twins was a Dr. Pepper.
Jenna joined us with Elliott in her arms. His arms were flailing every which way while he tried desperately to escape. “I’m going to take this kid to his dad. Where are all the guys, anyway?”
“I think they are at our place,” Emma said.
“Ugh,” Jenna complained. “I’m not walking over there in my heels. I’ll call Brad and makehim come here.”
“Tell all the men to come here,” Emma suggested, “so we can finish getting ready. And tell Brad to tell Sawyer I need my Spanx, like all of it. And nursing pads. That sounds attractive, doesn’t it?”
We all laughed at her.
My three best friends all took to staring at me at the same moment. I knew what they were trying to say. None of us could believe I was getting married. But more importantly, I could see in their eyes how happy they were for me. It meant the world to me. Thankfully, Jenna added some levity to the moment before the tears came and I ruined my makeup.
“I can’t believe you are marrying Mr. Wickham, Jane Austen’s bad boy. It sounds so wicked and yummy.”
Amid our laugher there was a knock on the door.
“Darling, are you in there?”
“Speaking of wicked, someone is anxious,” Shelby drawled.
I still couldn’t get over his accent. I rushed to the door and only opened it a fraction. Enough to see he was holding a white box and how ridiculously gorgeous my soon-to-be husband looked in his black tux that fit him like a glove. I wanted to reach out and pet him.
Miles tried to peek in. “Are you dressed?”
“I’m wearing a robe.”
“That is unfortunate,” he faux frowned. “Can I speak to you in the hall?”
“Isn’t it bad luck to see me before the wedding?”
“Darling, I don’t believe in that rubbish. Please, I have something for you.”
My curiosity was piqued. I slid out the door and into the hall.
Miles took a moment to take me in. “You are lovely. I would run away with you now, but I fear your mother.”
I was afraid of her too today. Last I saw, she was barking orders at the wedding coordinator, making sure everything was perfect. She had even dragged my sister into it. I was hoping to have Vanessa and my mom help me get ready. But Mom was so overjoyed that the day she thought would never come was happening—her daughter was finally marrying someone who wasn’t a loser—she couldn’t be bothered with trivial things like hair and makeup.
“Best not to test her nerves,” I agreed.
Miles held the box out to me. “I have a pre-wedding gift for you.”
I took the box. “Does this mean you have a post-wedding gift?”
