Page 39 of Wish For Me

I can hear the shrieks of the girls inside before I even reach the porch of the farmhouse. I don’t bother to knock on the door, knowing they won’t hear it over the loud music playing and peals of laughter.

“Hello,” I call out as I step into the kitchen. “Did someone order ice cream?”

No one answers, so I stick the ice cream in the freezer and head in the direction of all the noise.

I stop dead in my tracks when I reach the living room, overwhelmed by the sheer chaos inside. All of my female cousins and aunts, along with Bodhi’s sister, Mom, cousins, and aunts, are sitting around on couches or sprawled on the floor. A few of them have their feet submerged in bubbling foot spas. Violet is painting her mom’s toenails. More than a few of the girls have weird green gunk on their face and there’s food and drinks on every available surface.

“Holy fuck,” I mutter. “It’s like a spa and a junk food factory had a baby and the baby exploded in here.”

“Nice imagery,” my mother-in-law says, coming up behind me, a stack of towels balanced in her hands. She looks around the room, where the girls are all too occupied to notice me so far. “Though I suppose you have a point.” Then she grins at me. “You’re right on time. We’re about to start the entertainment.”

I close my eyes. “Please tell me there aren’t going to be male strippers.”

Karen cackles. “You think your wife would plan strippers for her best friend’s wedding eve sleepover?”

I cross my arms. “No. But I would absolutely not put it past you or Paige.” I think for a second. “Or Aunt Haylee or Aunt Daisy. Or my mother, for that matter. Not one of you can be trusted.”

She grins. “Sadly, there will be no strippers. But we are about to start a pretty epic dance party.”

Sure enough, Everly is pulling Alex and Bodhi’s sister Nisha to their feet on the other side of the room. I’m not sure you can call the flailing/hugging/jumping combo they’re doing dancing, exactly, but they do seem to be having fun.

“How wasted are they?” I ask Karen.

“Zero percent wasted. This is a booze-free party. No one needs ruddy cheeks or bags under their eyes for wedding pictures tomorrow.”

I watch as Everly and my wife jump up onto the oversized ottoman in the center of the room. “Alex is going to teach us that TikTok dance,” Everly shouts, and a bunch of the girls get up to copy her moves.

“You’re seriously telling me there’s no alcohol involved in this?” I ask skeptically.

Karen opens her mouth to reply, but my attention is snagged on Alex’s position on the ottoman. I see what’s going to happen a second before it actually occurs—her foot slips on the fabric edge of the furniture and she goes tumbling to the side.

I rush across the room but there’s no way to make it on time. She falls, hard, before I can get to her, and there’s a chorus of gasps around the room.

But Alex pops up on her knees a second later, arms raised over her head. “I’m fine!”

All the girls cheer and I shake my head as I cover the rest of the space between us.

“Wyatt’s here!” Everly shouts over the music. “Hi, Wyatt!”

“Hi, Wyatt!” the other girls chorus as I pull Alex to her feet.

“Yeah, hi, Wyatt,” she says, grinning up at me.

“What the hell is on your face, baby?”

“It’s a hydrating mask,” she says. “You want to try one?”

“Ooh, yes!” CeCe shouts. “Let’s give Wyatt a spa treatment!”

“Pass.” I release Alex’s arms but she winces the second her weight transfers to her own feet, and I frown.

“What’s hurting you?”

“I think I twisted my ankle on my ever so graceful tumble,” she says, wincing again.

“Let’s go look.” She tries to protest that she’s fine, but I’m already half-carrying her to the kitchen, where it’s slightly quieter. I set her in a chair at the table and kneel in front of her, taking her foot between my hands. “It looks swollen.”

“It’s not swollen.”