Page 285 of Wild Card 13

"What happened?" I asked.

Vivienne inhaled through her nose. "The ice sculpture Rafa ordered as a surprise for Bea is stranded at a loading bay."

I blinked. "The what?"

"The ice sculpture."

"Of what?"

Vivienne closed her eyes for half a second. "Bento."

I stared at her.

Of course Rafa had ordered an ice sculpture of Bea's cat.

Mr. Ribeiro had been moving through wedding week with the emotional stability of a man trying very hard not to cry into floral arrangements. He had inspected chairs. He had thanked bartenders. He had taken pictures of place settings. He had asked Lo three separate times whether Bea was comfortable, despite Bea being within ten feet of him for most of those questions.

A giant frozen tribute to Bento was exactly the kind of sentimental chaos his heart would produce.

"Please tell me it's small," I winced.

Vivienne's silence was unkind. "It is approximately six feet tall."

I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. "There is a six-foot ice cat somewhere in the city."

"At Northbend Ice Designs' auxiliary loading bay. Their delivery truck broke down after a piece of loading equipment failed during the transfer. The sculpture is safe, but their replacement vehicle will not arrive for at least two hours."

"The dinner starts in an hour."

"Yes."

"And Bea does not know this exists."

"No."

"And Rafa ordered it because he thought it would make her smile."

Vivienne's expression softened for the first time. "Yes."

There was the problem.

Not the ice. Not the truck. Not the timing. Not even the fact that I was wearing sheer tights and shoes that had been designed by someone with no respect for terrain.

Rafa thought it would make Bea smile.

And Bea deserved to smile.

Tomorrow she would marry Alois in the Sunken Garden at Como Park under glass and flowers and all the terrifying tenderness that came with choosing a person in front of everyone who loved you. Tonight was supposed to be quieter. Warmer. North Line full of family and Frosthawks and too many feelings wearing dress shoes.

If Rafa had found a way to turn one of Bea's most beloved sources of daily judgment into a ridiculous frozen centerpiece, then we were getting that ridiculous frozen centerpiece here.

I sighed. "What do you need?"

Vivienne looked relieved enough to make me regret being competent.

Before she could answer, footsteps came down the hall. Ty rounded the corner carrying a box of folded programs under one arm and a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He wore dark dress pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, tie not yet tied, hair clean but already defying whatever attempt had been made to tame it. He looked like a groomsman who had been given tasks because he was large, useful, and less likely than some of the others to start a group chat argument in the middle of an errand.

His gaze moved over me once, from the curled hair to the black dress to the shoes with their soft little bows, and something in his face went still.