Jared pushed himself upright from Nessa’s lap, eyes narrowing. “Did I miss something?”
“Nope,” Nessa said with cheerfulness so sharp, it could cut glass. She clapped her hands together briskly, effectively slamming a lid on the moment. “Now that Benny-boy is all moved in, can we start talking about the next big day? Clarke and Soren’s wedding.”
Her tone was casual, but the quick flick of her eyes toward me saidI’ve got you.
Bless her. The woman could defuse a bomb using nothing but enthusiasm and a glitter pen.
I exhaled, grateful for the save and desperately trying to remember how to function like a normal human while June launched seamlessly into a series of questions. “Yeah, are you thinking a big wedding? Something small and intimate? An elopement in Tuscany? Please say yes.”
“That’s up to Clarke,” Soren answered directly.
The chaos resumed.
And thank God for that because Bennett King had just looked at me like he wanted to ruin me, and I was one breath away from jumping him. Right here, right now.
Clarke curled deeper into Soren’s side, fidgeting with her ring. “Honestly, I have no idea what I want. I already planned the wedding of the century when I was twenty-five and engaged to somebody I shouldn’t have been. And now that I’m actually marrying the love of my life?” She looked up at her fiancé, her smile wobbling. “I don’t really want any of that.”
Soren pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’ll do whatever makes you happy.”
Clarke’s eyes shimmered. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Tuscany,” June coughed into her mitten.
Nessa perked up like someone had just handed her a clipboard and a color palette. “Okay, so maybe we start with what youdon’twant.”
“No ballroom,” Clarke said without missing a beat. “No church, no spotlight, anddefinitelyno five-hundred-person guest list.”
“A woman who knows her boundaries,” Matty murmured approvingly.
“Absolutely no giant spectacle,” Nessa echoed, already tapping something into an app on her phone. “Got it. Do you want it in Rose City?”
Clarke worried her lip. “Probably. It just depends on whether we wait until after the season ends.”
Soren squeezed her shoulder, thumb brushing the edge of her scarf. “I don’t know how many venues will be cool with a ‘wait and see if we make the playoffs’ kind of promise.”
Pink snorted. “Not many. Unless you want to get married next to our bullpen. Super romantic, bro.”
Diaz raised his beer. “I can see it. Vows echoing under fluorescent lights, the faint scent of sunflower seeds—”
Clarke half-laughed, half-groaned. “This is why I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to do the big wedding thing again. I just want something . . .us. Something that feels like Soren and Clarke, not some social media stunt.”
A hush settled over the group. Not sad, just thoughtful.
Soren pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then that’s what we’ll find, blondie.”
“Hell, you guys could do it in the outdoor showers at Bed of Roses,” June offered with a smirk. “That’s where you met, after all.”
“That’snota bad idea,” Soren mused, ignoring Clarke’s sputter of scandal.
“I amnotgetting married in a shower stall,” Clarke protested, cheeks pink.
“Not the shower,” I said, warmth creeping into my voice. “Bed of Roses. On the lawn, beneath the twinkle lights. Like you said, it’s where you met, where everything changed. It’s romantic and intimate,andyou know the owner, so she might give you a discount.”
All heads pivoted to face June.
“I might be willing to negotiate,” she said.
Clarke’s face softened. “Bed of Roses,” she repeated. “Small, private.Us.” She tilted her head back to meet Soren’s gaze and gave him a soft, gooey look. “What do you think?”
