She chuckles again. “Okay, Cinderella. What are we putting in them?”
I have no clue. Lip balm?
I find myself needing it more these daysbecause of the near-hourly kisses. Zero complaints as King keeps me stocked up on his mom’s magical lip oil.
“Tissues,” I decide. “King’s probably going to make me cry at some point.”
Now that he’s found his heart words and we’re in Croatia, where he can relax, he’s part comedian, part stunt double, and part poet.
“That’s what I’m for.” In the mirror, I see her pluck a handkerchief from her own pocket. King’s mom had insisted she pick whatever she wanted from the new line, and Shon had swooned over the royal blue gown. She waves the cloth square over my shoulder.
“You’re the best.”
Shon gives a little “I know I am” hum as she tucks it away for later and then fastens the clasp at the top of my dress. Neither of us has mentioned the person missing from this room, and I’m thankful for that. No need to let my mother’s presence ruin the day.
Her fingers brush me mid-back as she does up the clasp. “Are you ready for this?”
“The ceremony?”
Another hum, then she waves a finger around in a broad circle. “The three of them. The one of you.”
She doesn’t have to say it. I know what she’s getting at.
“The unconventionality of it all?” My lips curve up because if there’s one concern not on my list, it’s the four of us and our commitment to each other. So maybe there aren’t any good role model relationships to look up to. I’m sure plenty of kids from divorced families feel that way. Hell, I’ve felt that my whole life as I watched all the parents in my circle play musical partners.
“I mean, we had brunch with your grooms this morning.” As usual, there’s a hint of curiosity in her tone but also concern because she cares.
“I could drive myself crazy with superstitions.”
“Yeah,” she agrees.
“I’m looking at it like we’ve already had our bad luck.” My grandfather’s stipulation, my mother’s meddling, the kidnapping. And of course, the tension with Gabe and, long before that, with King.
“Turns out, the only thing harder than telling your loved ones you’re marrying into a foursome is finding a time when all of said loved ones can make it to the wedding,” I quip.
She murmurs an ‘I’ll bet’ as she clips the veil into place. The room is so quiet, still. King’s sisters offered to help me get ready, but I’m glad it’s just me and my best friend enjoying these moments together.
Pivoting, I take in my reflection. The romantic updo, soft make-up and the customgown. The jewelry. Outside, the sun kisses the horizon, lighting the sky in orange and gold. We’re right on time, and giddiness courses through me like champagne bubbles.
“It’s a good thing I love you so much,” she says.
What a funny thing to say. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re the prettiest bride in history. It’d be so easy to hate all this perfection.” She waves a hand up and down the length of me.
“You’re my best friend. You have to say that.” I bump a hip against hers.
Shon shakes her head. “It’s because you’re so happy. It like… radiates. There’s no highlighter in the Saint arsenal that could compete.”
“They do make me happy.”
“I know.”
“I want this for you,” I say.
“Three men to train? No, thank you.” She holds up both hands like she’s warding off boy cooties. I grab and hold them while grunting a laugh.
“No. I want you to be this happy. To wake up every morning feeling like everything is exactly right. Like, no matter what, you’re going to get through it together and come out stronger. It’s not just happiness. This is what peace looks like.”
