“Oh my God,” I whisper, and my voice comes out shaky, turning to the guys. “Is this… are we…?”
I can’t even finish the sentence because my brain is struggling with hope and disbelief and overwhelming joy.
“Keep going,” Noel says softly, his hand finding the small of my back. “It gets better inside.”
I’m shaking as we approach the doors. With every step, the reality of where I am sinks deeper into my bones, and tears prick at my eyes.
Chris and Kane each grab a door handle and pull them open, stepping aside so I can enter first.
I walk through, and I completely lose the ability to breathe. The foyer stretches before me, and every single surface is carved from ice.
The walls rise up in a smooth, crystalline bluish white that catches the carefully placed lighting and throws it back in a thousand directions. The ceiling arches overhead, and my breath forms clouds that drift upward into the frozen space. The floor beneath my feet is ice too, textured for traction but unmistakably frozen water.
Massive pillars run in two rows down the length of the entrance hall, each one a work of art. One is covered in delicate snowflake patterns so intricate they look like lacework. Anotherhas climbing vines frozen in eternal bloom. A third depicts what look like the northern lights in flowing, undulating waves.
I walk deeper in, turning in slow circles, trying to take everything in at once and failing completely because there’s too much beauty to absorb.
There are other guests here, people wandering through with the same awed expressions I must be wearing, staff members in warm parkas directing traffic with practiced ease. A reception desk ahead is carved from ice, with actual humans standing behind it like this is all perfectly normal.
Which, for them, I suppose it is.
But for me…
I turn to face my men, and something breaks open in my chest. All the emotions I’ve been holding back—the anticipation of the journey, the trust I placed in them to bring me somewhere special, the overwhelming reality of where I’m actually standing—crash over me at once.
My eyes are burning. My throat is tight. My hands are shaking.
“We’re at the ice hotel,” I manage, and my voice cracks on every word. “We’re actually at the ice hotel in Sweden.”
They’re all grinning, huge, satisfied, proud grins that make them look like boys who just pulled off the world’s greatest surprise.
“Surprise,” they say together, and then they’re surrounding me, pulling me into a warming hug.
I’m crying now with happiness, and I don’t even care that I probably look like a mess in front of all these strangers.
“You once told me,” Kane murmurs against my hair, his arms tight around me, “what your dream event would be to coordinate. Do you remember what you said?”
I nod and glance up at him. I’d rambled for probably twenty minutes about ice sculptures and live orchestras and champagne fountains and venues so elaborate they took your breath away.
“We decided to bring you to your first ice event as a guest,” Kane continues. “So you can experience the magic before you create your own version of it.”
I’m crying even more now, which is probably dangerous, given the subzero temperatures, but I physically cannot stop. “I’m so emotional,” I gasp, laughing because the alternative is full-on sobbing. “I love you all so much. This is everything I ever dreamed about and more. I don’t have the words for what this means to me.”
Chris wipes my tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle. “We wanted to give you something you’d never forget.”
“Mission accomplished.” I hiccup, which is very attractive. “I can’t believe you actually brought me here. I would never have done this for myself. I would have said it was too expensive or too impractical or we should save the money for something sensible, and I would have just kept dreaming about it forever instead of actually experiencing it.”
“That’s exactly why we did it,” Noel says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Because you deserve to have your dreams become real. Not someday. Not eventually. Now.”
“You three are going to ruin me,” I manage. “I’m going to become one of those spoiled Omegas who expect elaborate international surprises on a regular basis.”
“Good,” Kane says firmly. “That’s the goal.”
I cry a little more, because apparently that’s just who I am now—a person who weeps at grand romantic gestures.
Kane eventually excuses himself to handle the check-in, while Chris and Noel stay with me, letting me wander around the foyer and gawk at everything. I touch the walls, feeling the cold seep through my gloves. I examine the pillars up close,marveling at the craftsmanship. I watch other guests having the same overwhelmed reactions.
“How did they even build this?” I ask, running my hand along a carved column. “How is this structurally possible? This defies everything I know about architecture and physics.”
