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Chapter Twenty-SevenJuliaEli and Olivia aren’t having bridal parties—no bridesmaids or groomsmen—but she requested that Gracie and I get our hair and makeup done with her the day of the wedding.
Saturday morning dawns cold and clear. Beautifully so, the sun scrubbing the sky clean of any clouds. Grey and I decided to treat ourselves to a room for the weekend at the hotel downtown where Olivia and her family are staying. We grab coffee and breakfast biscuits at the cafe off the lobby for breakfast, and then I head upstairs to meet the bride.
I tear up the second I enter the suite. Gracie is already in the makeup chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as an artist carefully applies mascara to her bottom lashes.
The scents of coffee and hairspray fill the room.
Fill my heart to bursting. I love my girlfriends. My village. So much.
Olivia’s wedding dress hangs in front of a window, the morning light streaming through the gauzy material.
She’s sitting on the sofa, finishing off a bowl of what looks like cheesy grits with eggs and scallions.
I grin. Elijah has turned our New York girl into a proper southerner. Olivia has come so, so far since she arrived in Charleston a couple years ago, confused and burnt out and broken.
When she sees me, her whole face lights up. Smile broadening, she leaps off the couch and wraps me in a hug.
I laugh, tearing up all over again. She is nothing short of radiant. Happiness and excitement coming off her in waves.
“Happy wedding day, friend,” I say, giving her a squeeze. “How’s it going so far?”
Olivia pulls back, still smiling. “I woke up with Elijah beside me. Had a cup of my favorite coffee from Gracie’s and a grits bowl, made Elijah’s way. My parents are entertaining themselves and their friends at the restaurant downstairs. And I get to hang out with my favorite women in the world while someone else blow dries my hair. Needless to say, it’s the best day ever.”
“You are glowing. I’m so happy for y’all. And excited to celebrate! I feel like I haven’t been out or danced in forever.”
“The band we hired is kind of the best,” Olivia says. “There’s a horn section, backup singers, the whole nine yards. I told Eli my number one request for our wedding was to see him shaking his ass on a dance floor. Everything else was secondary.”
Gracie grins. “This is already my favorite wedding, and it hasn’t even happened yet. Wait ’til y’all see the barn.”
“Is it magical?” I ask.
“I took a peek this morning—Luke was up with the sun and has been helping out over there ever since—and it is gorgeous,” she says, looking at me. “You and Greyson did such a fabulous job with the space. Now that they’re dolling it up, it’s nothing short of spectacular. So, so romantic.”
I look at Olivia. Wrap her in another hug. “Sounds perfect for our resident romance novelist.”
“I just can’t wait to marry him,” she replies. “I never thought I’d feel this way about someone, you know? Least of all a Southern chef covered in tattoos.”
“It’s always the guys you don’t expect that end up making you the happiest,” Gracie says. “I think all three of us can attest to that.”
“Amen, sister,” I say.
Olivia looks at me. “Greyson’s making you pretty damn happy.”
It’s not a question.
It’s a statement. She knows.
I put a hand on my face. “Is it that obvious?”
“Oh yeah,” Gracie says, pointing to Olivia and me. “Both of you are glowing.”
“Things are good,” I reply. “Not perfect. But they’re really good, y’all. I’m with you, Olivia—not that I never thought I’d feel this way about someone. But I never thought that I could feel this excited after the start Grey and I had. Could be the fact that I’m feeling like myself again now that I’m out of my first trimester, but I’m kind of in love with him. In love with our life together.”
“Aw.” Olivia wraps an arm around my waist. “I’m happy for you guys. Truly. Told you Greyson was a stand-up guy.”
“Just had to peel back all the growly, grumpy layers,” Gracie says.
I smile. “I don’t mind the growling.”
“Now that sounds like an interesting kink,” Olivia says.
“Almost as interesting as Charlotte’s broody kilted Scotsman kink,” I say. “I finished my fourth re-read of My Romp With the Rogue. Safe to say I’m obsessed. I don’t know how you do it, but I saw so much of myself—and my own story—in the characters.”
Olivia smiles. Her eyes twinkle, the way they always do when she talks about her books. “The magic of romance. It’s a real thing.”
“Totally,” Gracie agrees. “My Deal with the Duke was the book that gave me the idea—and the balls—to approach Luke about a little sexual deal of our own.”
I laugh. “You fell for his penis, and then you fell for him.”
