Page 3 of Knotting else Matters

Sophie burst out laughing, a bright, bubbly sound that filled the car like a burst of sunshine. “Oh my god, Liv, I missed this. I missed you.”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you too, Soph. Even if you’re now the queen of mating ceremony dramas.”

“Guilty.” She grinned, leaning into me, her warmth pressing against my side. “But I promise, tomorrow’s going to be amazing. And you’re going to have so much fun.”

“Sure. Fun. That’s exactly the word I’d use.”

Sophie’s laughter rang out again, and I tried to soak it in, letting her joy push back the cold edges that still lingered in the back of my mind.

The rain had thinned to a mist by the time Sophie’s SUV pulled up in front of a tall, elegant building with a sleek, glass façade. Warm, golden lights spilled out onto the wet sidewalk, and the front entrance was guarded by a polished brass awning. A doorman in a sharp uniform stood at attention, ready to greet us.

I frowned, glancing at the name on the building’s sign. “Sophie, this isn’t the place I booked.”

“I know.” She turned to me, eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and excitement. “I canceled your reservation and got you an upgrade.”

Of course, she did. My lips stretched into a smile, but it felt a little too tight. “An upgrade.”

“Trust me, Liv, you’re going to love it! I couldn’t let you stay at that tiny inn when we have this amazing place right here.”

“Right. Thanks, Soph.”

But as we stepped out, and the doorman rushed to take our bags, a familiar knot twisted in my stomach. Sophie was radiant, practically glowing as she breezed past the lobby doors, waving at the concierge like she owned the place. Which, given her fiancé’s family, she practically did.

Meanwhile, I was the sister who couldn’t even hold down a job for longer than two years. The one who went to college and didn’t finish, who bounced from one dead-end gig to another. Assistant manager at a supermarket had been my “career high,” and even that hadn’t lasted. I was thirty-six and coming off a failed marriage, with nothing to show for it except a sarcastic streak and a suitcase full of regrets.

I even felt the wolf inside me—a quiet, dormant thing I barely acknowledged most days—stir and lift her head, a whisper curling up from somewhere deep and dark.

Pathetic.

I shoved the thought away, forced another smile as Sophie swept me through the grand lobby with its sparkling chandeliers, plush carpeting, and the soft murmur of wealth in the air.

“Let’s get you changed, and then we can have a drink at the bar.” Sophie’s voice was all sunshine, her fingers gently guiding me toward the elevator.

“Yeah. Great idea.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. She meant well. She always did.

My room—no, my suite—was a palace. A king-sized bed with sheets that looked softer than clouds, a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glittering lights of the town, and a bathroom big enough to host a small party.

I stepped into the bathroom, peeled off my soaked clothes, and let the hot water of the shower scald away the cold that had seeped into my bones. But it couldn’t wash away the knot in my stomach. I wasn’t just wet. I was drowning.

When I finally joined Sophie at the bar, I’d traded the drowned-rat look for a dark green dress, something that fit me perfectly and made me look more put-together than I felt.

The bar was warm, filled with the low hum of laughter and the clink of glasses. Sophie ordered some signature cocktail that came with a slice of something tropical. I settled for a glass of whiskey—neat.

“To you being here!” Sophie beamed, raising her glass.

“To me being here.” I clinked my glass against hers and took a long, slow sip. The burn was a welcome distraction.

Sophie dove right back into her tales of wedding preparations, her voice bright and full of that unshakeable joy she wore like a second skin. Dresses, flowers, seating arrangements. Everything was a whirlwind, and yet she handled it all with the grace of someone who never doubted the world loved her.

And I listened. I nodded, I laughed when she did, I leaned into her glow like a moth desperate for warmth. But somewhere beneath the surface, the knot of discomfort twisted tighter, reminding me of every bad choice, every missed opportunity.

Pathetic.

I drowned the voice with another sip.

“The ceremony’s going to be at the temple,” Sophie was saying, swirling the tiny umbrella in her cocktail with a delicate touch. “And the party’s in the restaurant out back. They’ve rearranged it so wonderfully—fairy lights, a gorgeous dance floor, and the most beautiful floral arrangements. It’s like something out of a dream.”

I raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of my whiskey. “Sounds magical. How many people are coming?”

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