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Lydia sniggered and made a show of inspecting the strap-on she’d just been handed. “I knew you’d have a big dick.”

Zann chuckled and tipped an imaginary hat at her. “I aim to please.”

“You always do, darling,” Lydia assured her as she slipped the toy into her purse. “I can’t wait to see you in it later.”

“Just see?” Zann teased as she closed the garage door and shifted into reverse. She shivered at the feeling of Lydia’s hand gliding suggestively up her thigh, and she groaned when Lydia pressed a finger to her clit through the seam of her jeans.

“No, love,” Lydia said, her voice pure smoke and sex. “Definitely not just that.”

Somehow, miraculously, despite running into a metric fuckton of traffic in Ventura that had Zann gnashing her teeth and hurling a string of increasingly creative curses at the other drivers around them, they were not the last to arrive at the rehearsal that afternoon.

That honor went to Kit and Shannon.

And, while Lydia would have loved to have joined in with the roasting Jack and Michael were giving them for it, Eve had pulled her away from Zann the moment she saw them. Really, she wasn’t surprised that, despite Zann’s assurances, Eve was spiraling about the whole photographer situation, but she would’ve thought that someone as accomplished as Zann promising to take care of things would be enough to assure Eve that everything would be okay.

Lydia knew fuck all about photography and had no idea what it was about the original photographer’s portfolio that Eve had liked, but she’d seen Zann’s work, and she had a hard time believing that this change wouldn’t end up being an upgrade for Eve and Aspen in the end.

“I just…” Eve sighed.

“Look, Eve.” Lydia took Eve’s hand and cradled it between both of hers. “I can promise you that Zee has it more than covered.” She squeezed Eve’s hand. “You loved the pictures she took the other day at the winery, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s just…” Eve’s voice trailed off, and her blue eyes filled with tears as she glanced down the beach toward where Aspen and Zann were playing with Alder’s kids. Her throat bobbed. “I love Aspen’s family, I do, but I don’t…”

Lydia nodded slowly as she realized what it was that Eve couldn’t bring herself to say—and why she was so critically anal about who would be photographing the event.

Yes, Eve understood lighting and angles and could identify a less-than-perfect picture from a hundred yards away, but as the only child of asshole, narcissistic only children who weren’t going to be here, she was alone. And, whether Eve recognized it or not, Lydia had a feeling she was using these pictures to fill the void of happy memories that her family, had they not been a colossal disappointment, should have occupied.

Lydia pulled Eve into her arms. “I love you.” She squeezed her tight. “And you are not without family this weekend. We’ve known each other since before we even knew ourselves, and you are my sister in all the ways that matter,” she swore, and was heartened by the way Eve sniffed, the tension in her body relaxing as she burrowed deeper into her embrace.

“I love you, too,” Eve murmured.

Lydia kissed Eve’s forehead and smiled reassuringly at Aspen’s mom, Fern, a striking woman with gorgeous steel-gray hair and kind brown eyes, who was watching them with obvious concern from a polite distance away. The worry creasing Fern’s face eased by a fraction, and she inclined her head in a way that asked if there was anything she could do.

Lydia wished she knew the answer. She pulled a face that said she had no idea, and wasn’t terribly surprised when Fern rolled her eyes in a very Alder-like way and came to join them. She’d known Fern and Paul professionally since she began working at TAG and had always liked them, and the caring way Fern enveloped both her and Eve in a warm, motherly hug further enforced that opinion.

Eve’s parents might be shitheads, but at least she was marrying into a loving family who already treated her like she was one of their own. And the way Eve turned from her to sink into Fern’s embrace assured her that she knew it, too.

She took a step back and folded her hands in front of herself as she turned away to give the pair some privacy, and laughed when she saw the circus that’d taken shape behind her.

Aspen and Zann had Alder’s kids, Nash and June, perched on their shoulders and looked to be gearing up for some kind of mischief, given the way Alder was storming toward them, wagging a finger warningly. She shook her head at the way Alder’s husband, Greg, and the remainder of the wedding party that’d been huddled nearby, shooting the shit while waiting for the rehearsal to begin, started easing slowly away from the confrontation, while Aspen, Zann, Nash, and June were all staring at her with matching, wide-eyed expressions that were probably meant to be innocent but only made them look guilty as fuck.

Lydia chuckled at the way Zann discreetly flipped Alder off so the children wouldn’t see while Aspen stuck her tongue out at her as she carefully lifted June from her shoulders to set her on the ground.

While she would have loved to have seen how the rest of the confrontation played out, she tuned back into the conversation behind her at the sound of Zann’s name.

“Zann is incredible,” Fern was saying, and Lydia’s heart broke when she turned to see Eve nodding in agreement with a forced, fragile smile. Fern seemed to notice, too, because she patted Eve’s arm as she said, “You know, we hired Liam McDermott to take pictures at the bash we threw for our silver anniversary, and I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the picture Zann took of us on her phone turned out better than everything he managed with all his however many thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment.”

“She took a picture of us the other day at a winery that was honestly exquisite,” Eve shared.

“I have no doubt. Did you know that she sells her photographs under a pseudonym at a gallery in Barcelona?”

Eve blinked. “No.”

“She does?” Lydia blurted. She grimaced when Fern and Eve turned to look at her, and ducked her head as she muttered, “Sorry.”

Fern’s eyes danced with amusement as she said, “Indeed, she does. From what she’s said, it’s only a piece here and there, but we popped by the gallery when we were traveling last summer, just to see, and the manager told us that her work gets more positive response than anything else they showcase.”

That, Lydia had no trouble believing. “But why a pseudonym?”