Page 154 of Wicked Serve

“We’ve loved watching her passion for this grow,” he says.

“Thank you,” Mom says. “Truly, thank you.”

“She earned it all on her own,” Katherine says. “I’ve never met a harder worker.”

“Stop,” I say, wiping my eyes. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Everyone laughs with me. I don’t think it’ll sink in until James, Bex, and Charlie actually leave for Bermuda, but I really did put it all together. Meltdowns and missteps and koala hugs aside, I did it. My entire family will see months of careful planning come together tomorrow, all in celebration of James and Bex and the life they’re building together... and hopefully Nik will, too.

Chapter 74

Nikolai

The last time I was at the Callahan family home, it was snowing.

Now springtime blooms all around me. I adjust my tie, the exact shade of light purple that Isabelle requested, and start down the hydrangea-lined path. The wedding isn’t until the afternoon, but the house bustles with activity. Caterers in white shirts. Men in coveralls hauling ladders and electrical wiring. An extremely stressed-looking woman carrying an enormous box of flowers.

“Do you need a hand?” I ask, helping her steady the box. “I can carry them.”

“Oh, that would be fantastic. Watch the mud there. It rained last night.”

I wince. Hopefully Isabelle isn’t too panicked.

The woman opens the back gate for me, then directs me to put the flowers on a table at the entrance to the huge white tent on the lawn. A quick glance around makes it clear that there are already enough flowers to rival a greenhouse—even the pool has floating bouquets—but it does look beautiful. Two white dogwood trees stand like sentries behind what I assume will be the altar, and a chandelier hangs over the dance floor in the tent.

Even incomplete, I can tell that this wedding will kick the ass of the wedding we crashed in Boston. And no offense to my mom, but it blows the Heyman wedding in the Hamptons last summer out of the water, too.

My heart swells with pride. Isabelle did a wonderful job. I don’t want to get in her way, but I’m dying to see her. I loop around the tent, hoping for a glimpse of her.

Things aren’t perfect yet, and they never will be, but I can’t deny that I feel steadier now. Stronger. I don’t know if it’s the medication, or the therapy, or just the change in scenery—probably all three—but the past is staying put, and I’m looking to the future.

I want the future to start now, with her by my side.

“Nikolai.” I turn at the sound of Richard’s voice. “I wasn’t sure if we should expect you today, son.”

I turn to him, shaking his hand. He’s also dressed in a gray suit. A silk pocket square matches the light purple of both our ties. He smiles, clapping me on the shoulder, and I find myself smiling back.

“I did promise Isabelle that I’d be her plus-one, sir.”

“You look good,” he says, giving me a once-over. “No game today?”

“I’ll have to fly back tomorrow. We’re between games in the second round.”

He nods, guiding me out of the path of a couple people carrying chairs into the tent. Mom rushes by, muddy boots contrasting with the neat skirt of her dress, but she stops dead in her tracks when she spots me.

“Oh, Nika.” She wraps me in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.” As she steps back, she squeezes my arm, her eyes shining. “When you’re ready, she’s inside.”

“Are you?” Richard asks. His voice doesn’t hold any judgment, but I know there’s weight behind the question.

“Yes.” I glance at the house, resisting the impulse to run inside. If my mother is dashing around, then so is she. I don’t want to get in the way. “I’ve been imagining this since I left.”

“I felt that way about Isabelle’s mother from the moment I left for games until I got home. I still feel it, whenever we’re not together.” He shakes his head, as if marveling over that. “Son, I want you to know that I trust you with my daughter. You make her happy, and that’s what she deserves most of all. Both of you.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

Those intense eyes settle on mine. “And if you ever need advice, or have something you wish you could ask your father about—you know where to find me.”

“Sir, I— Thank you.” I pause, unsure what to say to even begin to cover the emotions rushing through me, but before I can unscramble my thoughts, the patio door opens.

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