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I picked up the wedding invitation, head clear and heart steadier than it had been in a long time.
“Would you be willing to take Anya tomorrow night?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabel
“I think I’m going to puke.”
I tucked a piece of hair back into the small diamond clip that held Molly’s hair back. “No, you’re not.”
“I just want to see him.” She waved a hand in front of her face, sweat misting her forehead, even though the day of her wedding had dawned perfectly clear and mild. “You’ve seen him, right?”
Crouching down to fluff the flowing organza of her dress, I hummed in assent. “He sounds about as worked up as you do.”
“Really?” She smiled wide. My sister, as beautiful as she was in the every day, was the most gorgeous bride I’d ever seen. “Tell me. Gawd, I bet he looks so good in his tux. He shaved, right?”
“I believe he did, but I can’t say I would notice if he hadn’t.”
The photographer moved around us, snapping away as I readied Molly to do some shots with Logan in the gardens outside of Cedarbrook Lodge. She’d risked an outdoor wedding at this venue of her dreams, and so far, Seattle was delivering. The hotel sprawled behind us, the indoor reception room already dimly lit and decorated in soft creams and gold.
Off to the side, Lia and Claire chattered happily, snapping pictures of their own. Paige stood between them, red hair swept up off her face, and peacock blue column dress making her look like a friggin goddess.
“It’s not too late to see him now,” Paige teased. “Spare the man the embarrassment of bursting into tears in front of a hundred people at the sight of you.”
Molly laughed. “No way, I can’t wait for someone to catch that on camera.”
I stood back, and the photographer moved around Molly, directing her this way and that.
Paige slid an arm around my waist. “You four sure clean up all right.”
“For as much time as we spent in a hair and makeup chair, we better,” Claire said.
Because Molly allowed us freedom in choosing our dresses, Claire and Lia had opted for a dusty shade of blue, and in similar styles that flowed gently away from their hips, off the shoulder straps holding up a sweetheart neckline. All of us wore our hair down and curled, Molly was the only one who kept hers pulled back.
Her wedding dress, with impossibly thin straps holding it up over her shoulders, was fitted to the waist, covered in delicate floral lace before it flowed out dreamily toward the floor.
And after trying on dresses with far too many frills and embellishments, I found one in a deep navy that skimmed the length of my body, crisscrossing fabric covered my breasts, which left a small peekaboo cutout underneath. My back was completely bare.
I looked beautiful, felt beautiful, and so far, could breathe easily that the pre-wedding moments were going off without a hitch.
“Logan is on his way,” the wedding planner told us, tapping her CIA-level earpiece and speaking to someone we couldn’t see.
Nodding, I picked up my small clutch and walked to meet him, careful to miss the cracks in the path with my heels even though they were wedges. The last thing I needed was a rolled ankle. I’d just ditched the wrist brace the day before.
I stopped when I caught sight of my big brother walking my way. Hands tucked into his black tux pants, dark hair starting to show the slightest hint of silver at the temples, he looked handsome, and visibly nervous.
His smile was slow when he saw me. “Look at you.”
“Wait until you see the bride,” I told him.
Logan stopped in front of me and shook his head. “You look beautiful.”
Instead of deflecting like I so desperately wanted, I let out a deep breath. “Thank you.” I tilted my head back where Molly waited for him. “You ready for this?”
“Hell no,” he answered feelingly.
I laughed.
