It had been easier to think of my arrangement with Oliver as a smaller ordeal when only ourselves and our immediate families were the ones who would be directly affected. But now that so many of our friends—Dash, Cora, Sabine, and even Vanessa—had jobs depending on our wedding and our lives together, the magnitude of the situation was becoming harder to ignore.
But as much as I didn’t want to ponder my failings as a friend, I found that easier to contemplate than the way things would likely fall apart when I finally told Oliver that I may not be able to have children.
It had been easy to brush off the way he made my heart race as a holdover from our days together at university, like a phantom pain reminding me of the dangers of getting too close to him, before I knew that he loved me, too. But now we were quickly hurtling toward a precipice, one I didn’t know if I could survive if I went over.
Birdie’s voice jolted me back into my body. “Now, it turns out that when you marry a king, you don’t really need to put anything on a gift registry. Apparently, His Majesty has enough monogrammed bath towels already.” We all laughed. “So instead of gifts, I asked everyone to bring a copy of their favorite book and to write you a short message in it.”
My mouth popped open at my friend’s thoughtfulness.
“I love this idea,” Hilda said gleefully.
“Of course you do. You probably brought the filthiest book in your collection,” Polly clucked. I didn’t miss the wicked grin that spread across her face. I was suddenly a bit afraid to see what these feisty octogenarians were about to give me.
Sabine and Cora went first, the former gifting me a collector’s edition ofThe Secret Gardenand the latter giving me a stunning cookbook calledBethlehem: A Celebration of Palestinian Foodby Fadi Kattan.
“The recipes in this one are so good,” Cora said as I flipped through the pages. “But I love the photos and the stories even more. It seemed like something you would enjoy reading.”
“I can’t wait, thank you so much.” I grinned as I moved on to openEmpire of the Vampireby Jay Kristoff from Mel andThe Secret Historyby Donna Tartt from Evelyn.
Birdie gave me a copy ofBy a Threadby Lucy Score, then giggled as she handed me a second package. “This one is from Knox. He didn’t want to be left out of this ‘Bachelorette Book Club’ as he called it.”
I eyed the wrapped book in my hands, clearly a hardcover from the feel of it. “It’sThe Fellowship of the Ring, isn’t it?” I asked, knowing quite well that it was Knox’s favorite book.
Birdie snorted. “He said you’d guess that and said to tell you no, it is not.”
“Hmm,” I said, intrigued, then burst out laughing when I pulled off the wrapping paper to discoverThe Hobbit.
Birdie rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s so funny.”
Dash followed things up withI Think They Love Youby Julian Winters, and then it was time to see what the Golden Gals had to dish out.
Things started off tame with Ida and Mildred’s selections of Gillian Flynn’sGone Girland Kelly Barnhill’sWhen Women Were Dragons, respectively. As expected, though, Hilda and Polly were both chomping at the bit for me to open theirs.
I opened Polly’s first and fell into a coughing fit whenKiss of the Basiliskby Lindsay Straube wasrevealed.
“It’s exactly what you think it is,” Polly said with an impish grin.
“Well,mineis about vigilante serial killers in love! Did you expect that?” hollered Hilda.
I was laughing so hard that I thought I might pee my pants as I uncoveredButcher and Blackbirdby Brynne Weaver.
“Mmmm, hand that one over here,” Birdie managed to say between giggles, snatching it out of my hand to read the back cover.
“And givemethat other one,” Evelyn said, taking a peek atKiss of the Basilisk.
“It’s got a prince who is delightfully skilled in the bedroom,” Polly theatrically whispered.
Evelyn dropped the book. “Nevermind, then.”
Birdie, Mel, Dash, and I climbed out of the black SUV onto a small, pebbled drive.
“Holy shit. This is absolutely beautiful,” I breathed.
I looked up at the windmill towering above us. The golden light of the setting sun illuminated rolling hills, and the sound of bleating sheep carried to us from the fields behind the property.Toto, I don’t think we’re in Altborn anymore.
“I know you wanted to keep things low key, so we thought getting you out into the countryside would be best,” Dash said. “Not what I would have chosen, but this”—he waved his hand toward the towering windmill—“is nice inside, so Birdie and I thought you’d like it. We’re not about to be roughing it.”
“No, this is perfect. I can’t wait to see the inside,” I gushed sincerely.
