Page 293 of Wild Card 13

Micah's eyes went wide. "Oh my God."

Lo put a hand over her mouth.

Freya stared at my dress. "That was a beautiful outfit."

"Lucy." Bea looked me up and down, then narrowed her eyes. "What happened? You look like you were baptized by a cocktail luge."

"That is not far off."

Lo stepped forward, already reaching for the garment bag on the sofa. "Emergency clothes?"

"My sweats and tank are in Arlo's bathroom from earlier."

"You are wearing sweats to the rehearsal dinner?" Micah asked.

I shrugged. "At least it’s dry."

I changed as quickly as a woman could change while damp, emotionally unstable, and operating under the knowledge that she had nearly kissed the love of her life next to a truck after transporting a one-eared ice cat across town.

The black dress peeled off with a tragic sound. My tights were beyond rescue. My heels sat on the tile like beautiful casualties. I scrubbed beneath my eyes with a towel, gave up on fully fixing my makeup, and pulled on the soft gray sweatpants and black tank top I had worn to North Line that morning before changing for dinner.

My hair was still half-curled, half-wrecked, and drying into something that suggested I had fought weather and lost.

I looked in the mirror.

For a second, I expected to feel embarrassed.

I looked ridiculous.

I also looked like I had done something. Saved something. Chosen something.

When I stepped back into Arlo's office, the room went quiet.

Then Bea's mouth trembled.

"Do not cry," I warned.

"I am pregnant and you look like you were attacked by my wedding."

"Accurate."

Lo wiped at her own eyes, though hers were from mirth. "You look adorable."

Vivienne appeared in the doorway. "It is time."

Bea straightened, and every woman in the room changed with her. Lo smoothed her dress. Freya checked Bea's hair. Micah lifted the hem of Bea's gown away from the floor. Vivienne gave one sharp nod, satisfied.

The private mezzanine at North Line glowed when we reached it.

Arlo had outdone himself. Warm light spilled over long tables dressed in soft linens and low flowers. Candles flickered against exposed brick. The bar gleamed in the background. The room smelled like rosemary, butter, citrus, and something rich from the kitchen that made my stomach remember I had not eaten since breakfast.

Everyone was gathered near the entrance for the wedding-party arrivals.

Ezra stood beside Lo's empty place, wearing a dark suit and the expression of a man pretending he was not emotional because his family had learned to weaponize observation. Rafa stood near the front, hands clasped, eyes already bright. Alois was impossible to miss, tall and still and visibly holding himself together through sheer force of will.

The Frosthawks filled one side of the room with various degrees of inappropriate anticipation.

Ty stood near Bobby. His tie was on now, badly.