Page 91 of The Beta's Blind Date

All eyes are on her, but her eyes are only on Wesley, shimmering like two deep blue pools of water under a silvery, moonlit night. She beams at him, glowing with joy, her fiery red hair aflame from the candles and bonfires around their pack grounds.

Her dress is a nontraditional blush pink color with a high, bateau neckline in front and a low, deep V in the back. The skirt drapes from a lace-trimmed belt at her slim waist into a full, sweeping ballgown. Her bright red curls are pulled out of her face into a half-up, half-down look with a thick, loose braid and smaller braids randomly woven throughout the remainder of her curls tumbling down her back. She carries a bouquet of white anemone and various local greenery and berries.

She is radiant. She is light. Everything about her embodies the essence of joy, is the picture-perfect image of how a blushing bride should look, and I hope that someday I can experience that same joy as I commit myself to my mate. And the way Wesley looks at her—like she is his world, his reason for existing—I hope my mate looks at me with even a fraction of the love he holds for her in his eyes.

I glance at Reid as Haven reaches Wesley. Reid’s eyes are closed, a small smile on his lips at whatever he’s thinking about. I look at him again, while everyone’s attention is on the happy couple, and I allow myself to hope, to feel the full extent and depth of the desire I have for him.

His eyes snap open and our gazes lock, unwavering. His blue eyes sparkle—a lighter, brighter version of Haven’s as she stares at Wesley, her mate—and within them I see a mirror image of my heart. My wolf stirs as we continue to stare at each other, almost purring, pawing at the corner of my mind.

I don’t know why, but I open my heart to him, pushing every hope and desire towards him as if he can feel the passion and need for him I hold within every cell of my body. I wrap it around him, weaving a silent apology into each thread of warmth and love I send his way.

The guests sit, and Wesley’s dad speaks, but I’m not listening. I’m trapped in my own world with Reid, our eyes glued to each other. I may not be able to speak to him, but within his gaze is understanding and acceptance.

Understanding and acceptance I’m not sure I deserve. But he’s giving it to me, anyway.

Dominic clears his throat next to me, and I jump, jerking my eyes away from Reid’s. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and pull it tighter, looking towards Haven and Wesley as they begin their vows.

Wesley pulls an envelope from his suit and removes a letter from it, unfolding it and reading it out loud while glancing at Haven.

“Dear Pen Pal,” he says, and a soft laugh rolls through the crowd, concentrated within the ranks of their family members and the Crescent Lake pack members. He laughs with them, his smile growing wider, and then begins again, his voice sure and deep as he reads. “Dear Pen Pal… You once told me you’d never be able to give me a gift as meaningful and memorable as my first Christmas gift to you when we were kids. Well, I’m here today to tell you, you were wrong…”

My eyes water at his words, and I sniffle, scratching at my nose and tugging at the corner of my eyes to hide the forming tears. From either side of me, a hand holds out a tissue.

I look to my left, at Dominic holding a small stack of folded tissues he pulled out of his pocket, and then at Blake, who has a package of them stowed in her tiny black purse that matches her way too tall heels. I lick my lips and take a tissue from Blake, dabbing at my eyes so I can focus on the ceremony again.

“I doubt it comes as a surprise to anyone here today that I, too, wrote my vows as a letter,” Haven says, taking a small purple envelope out of a pocket of her dress. Again, the guests chuckle, and she opens it and pulls out her letter to Wesley, written with glittery purple ink on a white piece of paper. Her voice trembles as she speaks, her eyes brimming with tears as she stares into Wesley’s eyes, reciting her vows from memory. “Dear Pen Pal…”

As they continue their ceremony, I let my mind wander again, imagining my ceremony I hope to have someday, an event I’ve dreamed about for longer than I can remember. A small, intimate, traditional werewolf mating ceremony, with only those most important to the couple in attendance. I picture myself in the dress I’ve saved on Pinterest more times than I can count, a small bouquet of pink flowers in my hand as I walk hand in hand with my faceless mate.

Except, he’s no longer faceless. No, in this version of my dream ceremony, the male I’m with is Reid. My breath catches in my throat, and I cover my mouth with my hand to silence the gasp, but luck is on my side because the clapping and cheering from the guests as Wesley kisses Haven drowns out any noise from me.

“I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Wesley Kenway-Stone!” Former Alpha Harrison says to the crowd.

They lift their joined hands in the air, and this time I join in with the applause, cheering for the happy couple with the gathered guests on the shore of the snowy lake.

Dinnerwasadeliciousmeal of prime rib, salad, brussels sprouts with bacon, and whole roasted baby pumpkins with Jarlsberg cheese and chicken—a dish I never would have tried on my own but now love. I sit between Dominic and Blake at our table in the dinner tent as the meal winds down and the toasts end, sipping on my water and waiting to free myself from the confines of the seating chart.

My foot bounces under the table, and I spin my water goblet from side to side as Wesley finishes his thank you speech to the guests. “Thank you again to all of you for attending our wedding today. We will cut the cake in just a moment, and then we’ll have our first dance soon after that, and then the party will really begin!”

Everyone cheers and claps, and Wesley smiles, lifting his hand. “Also, you’ll notice a letter on your table, framed among the centerpieces. Each table has a different letter written by either Haven or myself. And yes—all of them are out there, somewhere, even the embarrassing ones. So feel free to walk around to each table and read them—and try to remember, I was only twelve!”

Haven covers her mouth and laughs, and his dad shakes his head while Wesley’s mom rubs his shoulder, a small smile tugging at her lips.

I lean forward and lift the framed letter out of the centerpiece of jasmine, eucalyptus, and anemones at our table and read over it as the volume in the dinner tent returns to a normal level and Haven and Wesley walk to their cake to cut into it.

“Dear Wesley,

Thank you for being honest with me. It’s not a surprise that you don’t want me as a friend. I’m used to people not wanting me.

You see, I’m an orphan. My parents left me when I was a baby. I was only a few days old. I have lived in pretty much one home a year since I was a baby. So I guess that would make it nine homes now, since I am nine years old. And since I move so much, it makes it harder to make friends.

I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I just wanted to tell you I know why you did it, and even though you didn’t ask for it, I forgive you.

I hope you get your A.

Haven Kenway”

“Oh my Goddess,” I say, covering my mouth, my eyes widening. “Did you read this?”

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