He gripped her chin between two fingers. “I think I want to marry you in the place we fell in love.”
Cheers erupted when he dipped his head, planting a quick but hot kiss on her lips. Nessa squealed, and Jared almost spilled his beer. The decision settled over the group like a warm blanket, soft and certain.
“Damn, it’s going to be hard to top that,” my brother mused after the celebratory chaos died down. “I’ve always wanted to get married on a boat at sea.”
“Why?” Soren asked.
“Because that way nobody could leave early. They’ll literally have to stay until we dock.”
“Aw, babe.” Nessa twirled a finger through his hair and tugged. “I love you, but we arenotgetting married on a boat. That sounds like the start to aDatelineepisode.”
June snorted. “Okay, well, mine would be somewhere warm, preferably against the backdrop of a castle.”
“Let me guess,” Clarke said. “Tuscany?”
“How did you guess?”
Matty ran a hand through his curls. “I want something quick and easy. Like the courthouse or a trip to Vegas.”
Diaz arched a brow. “Or a backyard wedding on your land?”
Matty shrugged. “So long as Mo is there.”
A collective groan rose from the group.
Matty’s black-and-tan dachshund was infamous across our town, as well as several unhinged corners of the internet. Seven pounds of snarling devotion, fiercely loyal to Matty and openly hostile to literally everyone else. There were entire Reddit threads dedicated to the theory that she was a demon summoned from hell, and honestly, having met her, I wasn’t convinced they were wrong.
“Right,” June said dryly. “Because nothing says romance like your demon dog trying to bite the officiant.”
Matty only beamed. “She’s spirited.”
“She’s possessed,” Pink grumbled under his breath.
Bennett turned to me.
“What about you, Bella?” he asked, voice gentle but direct in a way that made my pulse trip.
Pink groaned, sitting up straighter. “No, donotask her that unless you want a dissertation. Belles has been planning her wedding since she was, like, ten.”
Heat rushed up my neck. “I have not.”
“Seriously.” Pink groaned dramatically. “She has a list on her phone.”
I snapped my head toward him. “And what’s wrong with that?”
He held up his hands. “Nothing wrong with it. I’m just stating the facts. You havelistsfor everything—a detailed ranking of restaurants based on location, price, and spice scale, hypothetical names for goats you plan on owning—”
“Don’t you dare bring Vincent van Goat into this.”
Clarke bounced eagerly. “Forget your brother, Bella.Iwant to hear about your dream wedding.”
I shrank a little into my chair. “I don’t know—”
“Please,” Bennett said, low and steady. “I want to hear it, too.”
I swallowed. “Okay. Well,ifI get married, I want to do it in the woods. With mismatched chairs and pillows—cozy and intimate, like an outdoor living room. Oh, and I want to have abrunch reception. You know, pancakes, pastries, mimosas. And dancing, but not like . . . formal. Just people moving around however they want.”
I stopped there, suddenly hyperaware of how earnest I sounded. God, why did vulnerability feel like standing naked in public?
