A roar of laughter erupts from the bar and we both turn.
Near the far end of the venue, Ben is being hoisted onto someone's shoulders—no, ontomultipleshoulders—by three alphas, his best men, pack Leroy, who are enthusiastically chanting what sounds like an off-key rendition of "What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor", which is definitely an odd choice for an engagement party. On dry land. For a man who I know for a fact has never been on a boat in his life.
But since half the room joins in on the chorus, laughing and clapping along, I guess the best men know better.
Mason, broad-shouldered and built like he could bench-press a sedan. Knox, with his perfectly coiffed light brown hair and intelligent hazel eyes. And Arthur, easy grin, the bartender at The Lake's Edge who once made me a cocktail called "The Florist's Funeral" after spent an hour mourning a dead peony shipment.
They look like they're having a great time. Which is strange, because I heard their omega left them a few months back... You really wouldn't know it from looking at them.
Not that handling heartbreak better than I am is a bad thing, on the contrary...
I sigh, pushing another pastry into my mouth.
Maybe if I eat enough carbs, I'll manifest that level of casual.
"Finallyescaped," a voice says behind me and Maren.
We turn and see Luna. Her dark hair is pinned up, her cheeks flushed, and she's slightly breathless, like she just speed-walked across the venue.
"Luna!" Maren and I pull her into a hug. "How are you?"
"Well, I was taken hostage by Kevin." She takes a puff from Maren's plate on the buffet table. "He cornered me by the ice sculpture near the entrance. Apparently he'sverytaken with my—" she makes air quotes— "'porcelain complexion and intoxicating scent.' Direct quote."
Maren's eyes sparkle with mischief. "On the bright side, if he's detecting your scent that precisely, that means you might've just met your scent match."
Luna wrinkles her nose. "If my scent match smelled like a musty old book, I'd have married the reference section at the library by now."
I snort, and Luna's gaze shifts to me, softer, assessing me for a beat.
"You okay, babe?" she asks.
The question catches me off guard. Between Harper's gentle probing and now this, I'm starting to wonder if I have some kind of distress signal written across my forehead. "I'm fine... why?"
"You look like you're working very hard to look fine," she replies.
Well. I guess that's... accurate.
"I'm just a little... peopled out," I admit. "You know how it is."
A server passes with a tray of champagne. Luna snags two without breaking eye contact and hands me one.
"Here, have a drink," she says as she hands me a flute. "Try to enjoy tonight."
Maren's hand touches my arm. "And by the way, the guest room's all set up for you tonight. Fresh sheets, the good pillows, and I even put out that lavender candle you like."
I could cry. Honestly. Luna has been an absolute saint for letting me crash, but my thirty-something back can no longer handle sleeping on a couch for a week. Not that I'm complaining, I genuinely appreciate her hospitality. Especially since, without it, I'd have had to sleep in my flower shop, which has a lot of things going for it but notably lacks a bed, a shower, and a kitchen.
"Thank you so much guys, you're too good to me." I blink rapidly, suddenly feeling a little too overwhelmed. "I promise I'm actively looking for a new apartment and—"
Do not cry. Do NOT cry.
Maren pulls me into a quick side-hug and Luna joins in. "Take all the time you need, Beth."
***
The patio gives way to a stretch of lawn that slopes gently toward the lake, and I walk far enough that the party noise softens into a muffled hum behind me. The water laps against the dock. The first stars are coming out over Lake Vienne.
I lean against the railing and let myself breathe for the first time in two hours.
