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“Yeah,” Gage said, clapping Finn on the shoulder. “Stop being such a lone wolf.”
Gany lifted both eyebrows when a visible shudder ran through all four werewolves at once. “I’m guessing that as a group, you’re not fans of solitude?”
Dakota shrugged. “What can I say? We’re pack animals.” He winked. “Even when we’re human.”
Frang edged past them all to a tall stool in the corner, which creaked audibly when he sat on it. Gany peered at the bundle of tallsomethings—black, white, and red—in a niche at Frang’s elbow.
“Are thosecandles? Hades, they’re practically as big around as my waist!”
Next to him, Finn chuckled. “Wildwood hosts supe events as well as human ones. I’m pretty sure this kitchen is foralternativekinds of cooking, if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, Del said it was for specialty… Wait a minute.” Gany’s eyes widened. “You meanmagic?”
“Don’t sound so gobsmacked,” Melina said, shifting supplies from the cart’s lowest shelf to the prep table. “You concocted nectar and ambrosia for the Olympians for thousands of years.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t magic. It was just”—Gany flapped his hands helplessly—“Olympus.”
“Like I said, Gany.” She smirked at him with the largest separator plate in one hand. “Magic.”
“Oh. Well. Okay.” Gany rubbed his hands on the front of his apron. “I guess. When you put itthatway.”
The door next to Frang swung open, and Gany caught a glimpse of the ballroom beyond, tables draped in pristine white linens and set with crystal, china, and silver.
“Good morning,” said the person on the threshold, whose chin-length hair was dyed in a vibrant rainbow. “I’m Del. I’m happy you made it here safely.” They nodded to Frang. “For which we have you to thank, Frang. You have my gratitude.”
Del was clearly in their wedding outfit—not precisely a tux, but over an elaborately pleated V-neck white shirt, they were wearing a black coat, cropped at their narrow waist in the front, short tails extending to mid-thigh in the back. The sides of the jacket, as well as the outer seams of their slim-cut black trousers, sparkled with crystals that echoed their rainbow locks.
They approached the cake, a smile curving their rather austere mouth. “It’s as stunning as I imagined. Just as perfect as I knew it would be.” They turned to Gany and held out their hand. “Thank you so much.”
Gany shook hands. “It was my pleasure. Even if we’re not able to serve it—”
“Oh you will,” Del said, their smile tucking in at the edges. Secretive.
That little giveaway made something like hope bloom in Gany’s middle. “Has the other baker failed to deliver? Because we can set up now—”
“Not yet,” Del said, tugging their jacket with hands that actually trembled.Right. It’s their wedding day. “But soon.”
“Will someone notify us then?”
“Trust me,” they said, their palm on the swinging door once more, “you’ll know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my guests”—their smile grew and now it was almost incandescent—“and my wife.”
They vanished through the door.
Gany propped his hands on his hips. “What does that mean,I’ll know? How am I supposed to know? Will there be a text? A bullhorn announcement? A freaking dove descending from on high?”
An enormous crash resounded from the ballroom, followed by shrieks and shouting and the pounding of many feet.
Finn quirked an eyebrow. “Call me Captain Obvious, but I think that’s your cue.”
Gany hurried over and pushed the swinging door open a crack, the others crowding behind him to peer over his shoulders.
The ballroom was in absolute chaos. At the far end, on the floor in front of a long, white-clothed table, was a huge, tumbled mess of dark chocolate and white buttercream, with the red of raspberry filling spackling it like blood spatter.
Two extremely handsome men crouched next to the mess, both in the white shirts, black waistcoats, and trousers of the catering staff. One of them—a stunning dark-skinned man, his completely bald head gleaming in the sunlight spilling in from the french doors—swiped a finger through the broken cake and popped it into his mouth.
The shouting at the door—which mostly seemed to be coming from a middle-aged woman in a lavender chiffon dress and a man of similar age in a tux—increased in volume. Somebody said something about the cake, and then Del, their arm around the waist of a willowy, high-cheekboned woman in a white body suit frosted with rainbow crystals from neck to ankles and a flounced overskirt edged with what looked like swansdown, smiled and met Gany’s gaze across the ballroom.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” they said, “I’ve got another one.”
