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“I must be crazy too.” Biting on her lip, Arien inclined her head. “Because I will, yes.”
Kellan slipped the oval-cut diamond on her finger while Tanner kissed her. Then his brother kissed her. And they kissed her together, tasting the cinnamon on her lips. Couldn’t stop. It was sweeter now, because she was really, finally theirs.
Lying on the blanket, Arien held their hands on her chest, the three of them staring at the night sky. “Did you see that?” Letting go, she pointed straight up. “Looks like it’s raining fire.”
Shooting stars.
“The Perseids.” Turning his head to look at her, Tanner smiled. “Didn’t I tell you it was better than the Fourth of July?”
He’d told her, but Arien had to see it for herself. Same as how they loved her. He and Kellan could tell her over and over and over, but she had to feel the truth of it to see how good and perfect and beautiful it was all on her own.
And he was so fucking thankful that at last, she did.
“Two weeks?” Arien threw her hands in the air. “No way we’re going to be able to pull that off.”
It had been decided that the first day of September, the day after Kellan’s twenty-third birthday, was the day. After knowing the months—heck, probably years—of planning Shiloh put into her wedding, and seeing it with her own two eyes, the idea of putting together such a monumental event, in such a short amount of time, seemed nothing short of impossible.
Sniggering, an undaunted Emily, Grams, and Aunt Kim watched her panic set in from across the table. “You doubtin’ our abilities?” Rubbing her hands together, the latter woman assured her, “Don’t you worry ’bout a thing. We got this, girly.”
“We’ve done this a time or two, dear.” Grams reached over and patted her hair. “Already got Maizie on the cakes.”
“You told her, right? Nothing fancy.”
“Naked cake.” With a bouncy toss of her curls, Grams chuckled. “She knows.”
Damn cake was the least of her worries, though. Arien turned to her cousin. “Hope you’re up for shopping. We’re gonna have to go to Jackson and pray we can find a halfway decent dress on the rack.”
“Don’t be turnin’ into no bridezilla on me now.”
“I’m not. I promise.” Running her hand through her hair, she blew out her cheeks. “I’m just freaking out, because what in the hell am I doing?”
“Relax.” Emily came over to her and placed her hands on her shoulders. “We’re not goin’ to Jackson and you’re not gonna get no tried-on-a-gazillion-times sample gown from the rack. I’m takin’ you somewhere better.”
She took her into town.
Miss Lilly had an oddly elegant shop on Main Street. Stained glass obscured the view through the windows. Emily pushed the door open, a small brass bell announcing their arrival, and taken aback by what she saw, Arien’s jaw dropped.
Victorian-flocked wallpaper. Sofas covered in purple velvet. It looked like a brothel from the 1800s.
“Probably because it was, Miss Brogan,” a sultry voice came from the open loft overhead. “Show her around, Emily. I’ll be down in a minute.”
What the hell kind of creepy Twilight Zone shit was this?
Arien shook it off. Emily didn’t seem fazed at all. The woman must’ve just guessed what she’d been thinking, right?
Bolts of luxurious fabrics were neatly stored in cubbies built into the far wall. Sketchbooks of designs and photos of long-ago brides sat on antique tables. A small collection of dresses on display. All of them sensuous and beautiful.
Her fingers running along the sleeve of a dreamy dress in pale-lavender organza, she turned to Emily. “This would be so pretty on you.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“You’re my maid of honor.” And she squealed, “Try it on.”
Tilting her head, Emily bit her lip. “We don’t do that for our weddings, though.”
“Don’t care.” Arien pulled the hanger off the rack and handed her the dress. “I’m doing it for mine. Try it on, and if you don’t like that one, then choose another.”
“But…”
