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“Secret?” she asked.
“I forced him.”
Kimberly sighed, clearly bested by our ponytail conspiracy. She hung up the two white garment bags and unzipped them to reveal two identical short yellow chiffon dresses. She pointed to Eugenia. “Let’s get you fitted, please.”
On cue, a frazzled-looking woman with a gray bun entered the room, followed by three hotel porters laden with more dress bags. The smaller ones each bore a label to indicate which of my girls was wearing which, and the porters hung them behind the appropriate women.
The really big one was mine, and the woman with the bun hung it from the closet door.
“Ladies, can we get you dressed, please? The photographer would like everyone dressed before we put Miss McQueen in her gown.” Kimberly was in full-on planner mode. Now was not the time for jokes.
The girls quickly vacated their chairs and took turns in the suite’s bathroom changing into their dresses. Eugenia fit the last-minute size six without any serious pinning or sewing from Nancy the seamstress. Sooner than I would have liked, four yellow-clad women were sitting side by side on the couch sorting out the sunflower and daisy bouquets and commending Kimberly for ordering a “just in case” spare.
It was when Kimberly unzipped the big Kleinfeld bag to reveal my dress that, for lack of a better term, shit got real.
The photographer snapped pictures of the dress hanging in the window, with the curtains parted so the New York skyline glittered in the background.
I swallowed hard. “I’m getting married.”
“Duh,” Brigit offered.
I stared down at the giant diamond on my ring finger and wiggled it off to put it on the opposite hand like I was supposed to, so Lucas would have no trouble slipping the wedding band on.
The wedding band.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “I’m getting married.”
The girls all looked at each other uneasily, not sure how to respond to this little aha moment I was having. I picked up my phone, checking to see if Lucas had sent me any texts to see how the prep was going.
Nothing.
He was pretty old-fashioned when it came to weddings though. Knowing him, he probably thought texting the bride right before the ceremony was as bad as seeing her. I put the phone back on the vanity then got out of my chair and approached my gown as if it might turn into a monster any second.
My mind was spinning. My tummy churned with nerves while my heart pounded with excitement. I thought about Lucas and remembered the first time I’d been alone with him in the penthouse at Rain Hotel. He’d been so steady, so calm, and yet our nearness to one another threatened to burn us alive from the inside out.
I’d known when we met he was something special, even before I understood the soul-bond. And he had stood by me, steady as a rock. He’d never faltered.
He’d never run away.
My gaze cut to my phone once again, as if Desmond might choose that moment to reach out to me. The message light was blank.
Lucas, for everything he had done that drove me crazy, and all the mistakes he had made, never pretended to be something else. He had always been the wolf king. He had always been my mate. I might not agree with his methods, but he was as reliable as the passing of time.
And today I would marry him.
Because it was the right thing for the pack. But it was so much more than that…
Marrying Lucas meant an end to my own uncertainty. It meant I was his and only his. I ran my fingers over the beadwork on the front of my dress and smiled softly. The photographer snapped away. I looked past him and to my bridesmaids, and smiled at them.
“Let’s go get me married.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Once I was encased in the satin-and-beaded glory that was my wedding dress—with my thigh holster secured thanks to a quick trip to the ladies’ room with Mercedes—Kimberly let Grandmere into the suite so she could see the finished product. Judging by the tears that welled up in her eyes and the way she clutched her chest, I was guessing I looked all right.
“Oh…baby.”
“Does it look okay?”
