Delaney:I DON’T CARE I’M GETTING MARRIED
Reece:Congratulations on discovering caps lock
Billie:I can’t believe you’re finally getting marriedcrying emoji
Blake:Billie it’s too early for emotions
Billie:It’s NEVER too early for emotions about my ladies
Delaney:Leigh are you awake?
I smiled and typed back.
Leigh:Wide awake. Can’t wait to see you as a bride.
Delaney:Get over here. We’re doing mimosas and getting ready.
I looked at Dex, still sleeping, his face peaceful in the growing light. I wanted to stay right here, wrapped up in this moment, in the knowledge that we had a future.
But today was about Trace and Delaney. About celebrating their forever.
Tomorrow we’d start planning ours.
I kissed his forehead gently, trying not to wake him, but his eyes fluttered open anyway.
“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning. I have to go. Bride duty.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
He groaned and pulled me closer. “Too early.”
“The wedding’s at two. I need to help Delaney get ready and set up my equipment at the pond.”
“Fine.” He kissed me, slow and sweet. “I’ll see you at the ceremony?”
“You’ll see me behind a camera, trying not to cry.”
“I’ll be the one in the groomsmen line, watching you.”
“Dex...”
“I love you.”
My heart squeezed. We’d said it before, but every time still felt like the first time. “I love you too. Now let me go before Delaney sends a search party. Although, you might want to get up too, unless you’re planning on having breakfast with Jasper and my mom.”
That had him sitting bolt upright as he looked around and suddenly realised where he was.
“Oh crap, yeah, this isn’t my house.”
I laughed and watched him scramble back into his clothes and we sneaked out of the house giggling like teenagers who were doing something they shouldn’t and not the grown adults we really were.
Delaney’s house was already chaos when I arrived at seven-thirty.
Billie was in the kitchen making breakfast for an army. Delaney was pacing in the living room in her pajamas, looking radiant and terrified in equal measure, giant curlers in her hair. Blake was on the couch, still in the sweats she’d clearly slept in, holding a mimosa like it was life support.
