“Let’s get lit!” I mutter. Thankfully, she doesn’t hear it. Ivy stifles a laugh.
“I’ve seen him every year since . . . I mean, so, I love him, but . . . I mean, besides all of you, he’s my best friend.” Grey shrugs her shoulders as if that wasn’t the most awkward explanation for a male friend that I’ve heard in a while.
“That sounds lovely,” Sparrow exclaims, giving me a look that tells me to quit before I get deep into trouble with these people I love.
I turn back to Ivy instead, riveted by the turn this conversation is taking. “And who are you taking as your wedding date, Ivy?”
Her eyes widen as she takes the biggest bite of a brownie that I’ve ever seen.
“Ives, have you even met the man you’re taking?” I grin, using my nickname for Ivy—the one I’m not sure she loves but she knows she’s going to get anyway.
In reply, she nods and then stuffs the rest of the brownie into her mouth. If she’s hoping we move on without asking her any more questions, I want to give her an award.
“Okaaay,” I drag out the word.
She swallows, a hint of chocolate crumbs thrown in the air as she rubs her hands together. “It’s not worth dancing about,” Ivy says in her deep and sultry voice.
I’ve always been so jealous of her voice, which naturally sounds like the real-life equivalent of a bowl of rocky road ice cream. All elegance and grace, she’s everything sweet with this gritty, gorgeous speaking voice. How I wish it didn’t make mine sound like a chipmunk in comparison.
“Besides, you have a gorgeous man who is in love with you. A man who happens to be best friends with your best friend’s fiancé. A man who knows how to dance, Lily. Do you know what I would give for a man who loves me and can also dance with me? I mean, honestly.”
“But I—” I begin before she puts up her hand. Now I can understand how she wrangles all those tiny dancers in each and every class with such grace. She’s got the heart of an angel and the discipline to whip little terrors into shape.
“Besides, Graham may look like a billionaire, but something tells me he kisses like a rake.”
My mouth drops open in both surprise and delight at her statement.
“Knew it,” she concludes, her nose scrunched, fist lifting in a subtle pump of victory.
“Ladies!” Rafe’s voice carries through from the other side of the door.
I fight the urge to grin at Sparrow’s instant blush. It makes sense that they couldn’t keep away from each other for the entire day. She most definitely sent him a sneaky picture of the charcuterie board. The man is French after all. He can’t avoid wine and cheese even if he wants to.
“Stand back, D’Artagnan!” I yell toward the door. “Can’t be getting any bad luck over here—I don’t need those vibes!” He chuckles audibly as I mutter, “Graham and I have been through enough.”
I know Rafe has been spending the hours leading up to the ceremony with Graham, which means he’s somewhere nearby too. The train whistle sounds throughout the space from the nearby station, and Sparrow looks at me with a grin before looking at the door.
“Hear that, Sugar?” Rafe croons with a smile in his voice, no doubt thinking of how they first saw each other on a moving train. “That’s all the good luck we need.”
Gracefully, Ivy rises, her feet naturally turned out, dance training evident in every move. She glides closer to the door. “And is your Hallmark-worthy friend with you too?”
A deep chuckle I recognize as Graham’s makes me rush to the door.
“Ivy, Grey—you’re on Sparrow duty,” I say, excitement lacing my voice. “Close your eyes, Rafe!”
With that, I’m through the door and standing in the hallway. Rafe is startled by my sudden appearance, but Graham gives me a smoldering look hot enough to cook the pancakes we ate this morning.
Pulling away my attention, Rafe hands me an envelope with his handwriting on the front. It’s addressed to Sugar. I nod to him, already knowing he wants me to give it to Sparrow.
“I will,” I assure him without being asked. In an uncharacteristic move, I throw my arms around Rafe and hug him. I hug him because he loves my friend so well and because he cares for the man I love so much. And I’ve come to love him as a close friend too.
“Thanks, Lils,” Rafe says, his warm return hug comforting. He is so much like how I imagine the brother I always wish I had would be. When he releases me, he looks between Graham and me, giving us a nod. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
With a wink, he’s gone.
It’s just Graham and me in the tiny hallway of the stone church. I want to hold him close and never let go. I’m in my trusty “Maid of Honor” sweatshirt and jeans, but he looks at me as if I’m already wearing my silky gown.
“Hi, honey,” he says, his voice rasping with the perfect amount of grit.