Knox turns in his seat. His expression is serious, but not unkind. "Just remember—" He pauses. "We're in this together."
The words somehow settle into some warm, protected spot beneath my ribs as Mason kills the engine.
The walk from the truck to the garden gate takes approximately forty-five seconds, and we spend it in silence, focusing on our choreography. Arthur on my left, Knox on my right, Mason a half-step behind. We move like a unit, which is the point, and it weirdly doesn't feel completely like acting.
We open the gate and see white tables under string lights, a gift table weighed down with pastel packages (where I spot the gift we dropped off yesterday), a small drinks station in the corner. Harper's threaded baby's breath through the lattice above the entrance, and I make a mental note to compliment her on it later.
Heads turn. People who were mid-conversation pause.
Oh god. This is happening.
Harper spots us from across the lawn and breaks into a beeline, her denim jacket open over a floral midi dress. Benfollows a few steps behind, looking amused. She reaches me in approximately six seconds flat and pulls me into a hug that lifts my heels off the grass.
"You made it," she says into my hair.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss your couples shower," I say, smiling.
"I know, but—" She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, and her eyes flick to Arthur, then Mason, then Knox, who's standing beside me. Her smile softens into the glowing delight of a woman thrilled to see her best friend finally packed up. She plays it perfectly. "You're all here. Together."
Ben reaches us and goes straight into a back-clapping bro hug with Arthur. He does the same with Mason, who absorbs the impact like a load-bearing wall, and with Knox. "Look at you guys," Ben says, grinning. "Only took my couples shower to get you to show up."
"You say that like we didn't help repaint your house two weeks ago," Arthur retorts.
"And to finally reward you for your efforts," Ben starts, laughing, "bar's that way. Food's that way. And—"
"Oh, mystars."
Mrs. Patterson materializes like she's been waiting in the hedgerow. She's in a quilted vest over a turtleneck with a brooch pinned to the lapel. Harper gives my hand a quick squeeze and she and Ben drift toward the drinks station with the smooth, practiced exit of two people who've already survived this kind of conversation once today.
"Beth, darling. And the boys." She clasps her hands together. "I am sopleasedfor you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Patterson. That's—"
"You know, I had a hunch." She lowers her voice conspiratorially. "Formonths, I've had a feeling. There was something brewing between you four. A mother knows."
I'm not sure what motherhood has to do with it, but I smile. "You've really got excellent instincts, Mrs. Patterson."
"I do, don't I?" She looks at Arthur, then Mason, then Knox, each in turn, like she's inspecting produce at a stand where everything is surprisingly ripe. "Well, I won't keep you. But I expect to hear details soon.Soon."
She pats my arm and sweeps away toward her next target while I decide I probably don't want to know what kind ofdetailsshe's expecting.
Arthur waits until she's out of earshot. "She had a hunch."
"Formonths," Mason says flatly.
Knox's mouth twitches.
We go from group to group for a while, accepting congratulations from here and there, and then the alphas spot a cluster of their friends near the far end of the garden just as I spot Luna and Maren arriving together.
"Seems like you're eager to confer," Arthur says, smiling. "We're going to go talk to the guys over there."
I wink. "See you later,Honeys."
Knox hesitates for a fraction of a second then nods. "We'll be in visual range."
The alphas peel away, and for a moment I feel like stepping out of a warm room into open air. But Luna spots me before I can think about it too hard, and she crosses the lawn with Maren in tow.
Luna grabs my arm. "Okay," she says, voice low and urgent. "Okay."
