He leans against the wall next to me. Close. Not touching, but the effort it's taking him to keep that small distance is palpable.
"What do you need?" he asks softly.
"To be here for Harper," I say, meeting his dark gaze. "And then I need you. All of you."
***
The last slow ends sometime after midnight. The DJ says something into the mic that gets a tired, happy cheer from the remaining guests. Half the tables are already cleared. I've spent the better part of an hour finding mindless things to do with my hands. Folding linens. Boxing centerpieces. Hunting down champagne flutes abandoned on windowsills and under chairs. If my hands are busy, the rest of my body has to behave. That's the theory, anyway.
Harper finds me at the head table, where I'm stacking place cards into a neat pile.
She's changed into flats. Her veil is gone. Her mascara is slightly smudged under one eye, which somehow makes her look even more beautiful.
"Best day of my life," she says, beaming.
I set the place cards down. "You deserve every second of it."
She pulls me into a tight hug. I hold on. She holds on longer.
When she finally pulls back, she studies my face. "You're really flushed, and hot."
I watch her eyes drift across the room, tracking Knox, Mason, and Arthur as they help the catering staff break down the tables. She looks back at me, her expression shifting into something incredibly knowing, yet laced with gentle concern.
"Beth, are your suppressants…"
I press my hand flat against the table behind me to steady myself. "I'm fine, Harp. Don't worry."
A few minutes later, I walk her and Ben out to the getaway car.
Ben is holding his suit jacket over one arm. Harper hugs me one more time, quick and fierce, whispering "Be safe" into my ear. Then Ben steps up and pulls me in for a warm, one-armed hug of his own. The sheer rightness of seeing them together makes my eyes sting before I can stop them.
They get in the car. The tin cans tied to the bumper rattle as they pull away, the red taillights shrinking down the long gravel drive. They turn at the end of the road and disappear. The sound of the cans fades into nothing, leaving just the chirping of the crickets and the faint, tired hum of the venue behind me.
My best friend. Married. Happy.
I stand in the doorway for a few seconds after they're gone, letting the cool night air wash over my burning skin
When I walk back inside, the venue is almost entirely empty. It's just the four of us now, finishing what's left. The last tablecloths. The last stacked chairs. The last box of leftover cake, taped shut and set by the front door.
My suppressants haven't just faded. They've collapsed. What's currently rushing through my veins is a biological imperative I haven't felt at full force in longer than I can remember, and every single cell in my body is violently oriented toward the three specific points in this room.
I grip the edge of a bare wooden table.
"That's the last of the cake," Mason says, setting the box down. He turns toward me. Stops dead, his nostrils flaring.
Knox looks up from across the room and goes completely still.
Arthur's hands freeze on the strand of twinkle lights he's wrapping.
Three pairs of eyes lock onto me. Three heavy, potent scents spike all at once, violently flooding the empty venue. It hits me everywhere.
"Beth," Knox says, his voice a gravelly warning as he starts walking toward me.
I let go of the table and reach out, taking a fistful of Mason's shirt with one hand and grabbing the lapel of Knox's jacket with the other. I feel the heavy heat of Arthur stepping in right behind me, his large hand instantly finding my hip through the silk of my dress.
"I am giving absolutely everything I have," I gasp out, "to not fall apart right now."
Mason's breathing has gone shallow and harsh. Knox's hand wraps tightly around my wrist.
