Page 93 of In Every Chapter

Greyson’s smile was warm, like melted butter and syrup over pancakes. “Oh, love, you have no idea.”

The compliment short-circuited all rational thought. He thinks I’m pretty. The very idea made me giddy. I turned side to side, getting the full effect of the dress. Taking time to fully appreciate the whoosh-iness of the skirt. Very twirl-able. Not quite Éowyn heading in battle-ready, but it did have pockets . . . so ten points for Rivendell. Loved that.

“When is our anniversary?” I asked.

“September fifteenth.”

My favourite month. Always had been. Even though I was an October child.

“Want me to get dinner started?” he asked.

“I made Reuben sandwiches and potato salad earlier.”

He nodded appreciatively, then lightly tugged on my skirt. “Want help with this?”

“Just trying to get me out of the dress?” I shot back, laughter threatening to spill.

Amusement curved his lips; this felt like us. Felt normal. Right. Healing, even.

But unbuttoning . . . His fingers fumbled. And I knew I wasn’t the only one affected.

Chapter forty-one

Paisley

Trying on my wedding dress had my emotions all over the place. I was convinced it was the only piece of clothing with superpowers—the things it did to a woman. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember my wedding with Greyson, which left a tangled knot in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to remember that moment. Greyson had mentioned a second wedding, but he might have been joking.

For now, it was Stephanie’s turn.

Greyson, Myles, Juliet, and I drove up to Spokane a few days before the wedding to help with prep. Mama D, Pops, Cal, and Khia would be joining us in a day or two.

The venue Nash and Stephanie had chosen fit them perfectly with its elegant simplicity—perfect for the intimate group of attendees. A cream brick and ironwork mansion with expansive balconies and a back patio overlooking the river, orchards, and distant rolling hills of north Spokane. The white linens, greenery, and sage and gold accents breathed sophistication into the indoor ballroom/reception hall, which was patterned with beige damask.

Venue in order, we moved Nash’s boxes and furniture from the apartment to Stephanie’s bungalow. He’d bought the place from the owner as a wedding gift, and with the renos finished, everything was ready.

Leaving the guys to their bachelor party, the girls and I headed to Liz’s house where she, Danielle, and Kelsi—Nash’s best friends’ wives—had outdone themselves with the bachelorette party planning. It was an intimate party of close friends and family, an evening of laughter, telling our favourite stories about Stephanie, drinking copious amounts of coffee (or tea for some of us), and gifts.

“You’re up next, honey.” Liz patted my shoulder as she dropped down onto the couch beside me after telling her favourite Stephanie story—which involved a Jonas Brothers poster, whipping cream, and hair dye.

“Oh.” My brain glitched. Talk. In front of people. But these were my people.

“It’s only us.” Ivy smiled encouragingly.

Swallowing hard, I stood and moved to the front of the living room. Stephanie’s hazel eyes shone with happiness, and the bride-to-be sash draped over her petite frame. I could do this for her.

“My favourite Stephanie memory . . . Well, of the ones I can remember”—I chuckled self-deprecatingly—“is from our freshman Christmas when she drove our getaway truck.”

Juliet groaned, Liz cackled, and Stephanie grinned.

“Getaway truck!” Hailey cried, whirling towards her cousin. “Have you been holding out on me?”

“They were stealing a Christmas tree,” Liz supplied.

Juliet lifted her finger. “It’s not stealing when it comes from beside the dumpster.”

“That’s not what you said at the time,” I teased.

Kelsi leaned back in her chair with interest. “Now this I have to hear.”