Page 294 of Wild Card 13

Then, before anyone else could decide how to react, he gave a sharp, playful whistle.

The room turned.

I stopped in the doorway in my sweatpants and tank top, lifted one hand like a pageant queen, and said, "You're welcome."

For half a second, silence held. Then the room erupted.

Someone clapped. Someone else wolf-whistled. Bobby shouted, "Hero behavior!" from the groomsmen line. A Frosthawk I could not see yelled, "Formal sweats!" and another answered, "That's fashion!"

My father stared at me, then closed his eyes like he was counting to ten.

Arlo, standing near the bar, laughed so hard he had to brace a hand on the counter.

Lo stepped in behind me, radiant and unhelpful. "She saved the day."

"I saved part of the day," I corrected.

Vivienne's voice cut through, whisper-yelling, "Places."

The staff pulled the linen screen away. Frozen Bento stood in the corner beneath soft light and greenery, massive and clear and absurdly majestic. The side with the missing ear had been angled away, the broken piece tucked discreetly into an ice tray at the base like a secret only the guilty could see.

Bea saw him. Her hands flew to her mouth.

Alois turned toward her instantly, alert to any possible distress.

But Bea laughed, wet, stunned, and delighted. "Oh my God," she whispered. "They got the scowl exactly right."

Rafa covered his mouth with one hand.

Bea looked at him. "Pai."

He tried to smile and failed beautifully. "I thought it would make you happy."

"It does." Her voice broke. "It's ridiculous."

"Yes," Rafa chuckled, tears shining in his eyes. "But he is your ridiculous cat."

Alois put one careful hand on Bea's back, his own face wrecked in that quiet way of his, like watching someone love Bea well cost him every defense he had.

Rafa turned then, found me near the doorway, and crossed the room. The teasing quieted. I straightened automatically, suddenly aware again that I was wearing sweats in a room full of formalwear.

Rafa took my hands in both of his. They were warm. His eyes were not steady. "Thank you," he said.

My throat tightened. "It was not just me."

"I know." His grip held. "But you brought it here."

I smiled. "Bento gave us some trouble."

The room warmed around the mess.

No one looked at me like I had ruined anything. No one looked at Frozen Bento like it was less beautiful because it had arriveddamaged and melting. If anything, the room loved it more. Loved the story more. Loved Bea's laugh, Rafa's tears, Ty's terrible whistle, my ridiculous entrance.

For so long, I had believed the mess was the thing to hide.

The wet dress. The broken ear. The feeling that arrived before I had agreed to it. The love I had tried to manage into something smaller and safer.

But standing there in Arlo's private mezzanine, wearing sweatpants while candles flickered over flowers as a one-eared ice cat judged us all, I watched the mess become part of the beauty.