Page 270 of Wild Card

Princess

I’ve been summoned to Clyde’s. Any idea why?

Nope

Princess

You lie!

6-week deadline approaching. I’ll pick you up at 2.

The bubbles wave on the screen and I imagine her typing frantically. They stop and another heart comes through.

She’s finally getting it. My impatience to marry her doesn’t mean she won’t get the wedding of her dreams. Ember was ready when I called. Evidently, the moment she saw the ring around Willow’s neck, she and Cruz sprang into action. They have several custom selections waiting for Willow.

Along with Stacy, Rosie, and Bex ready to help choose the perfect Ember Hayes original.

Whatever she wants is hers.

38

WILLOW

The last itemis checked off and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Talon was right, these women know how to make things happen. I had no idea where to start, convinced we’d have a small intimate wedding.

I was wrong.

In one week, we’ve planned a full, grand-scale wedding with everything I could ever want. Mom secured the ballroom and catering at the country club, Grandma designed and sent the invitations, Harley took care of the music, Jewls offered the wine from the Powers’ vineyard, and Ember, Shayla, and Cruz had the dresses ready for alterations and used their contacts for a florist who was ready.

The day Talon told his parents about the pregnancy, April was waiting with bated breath for my call. She gushed over the baby for a full five minutes before launching into the rehearsal dinner.

My worry over her disappointment was needless, just as Talon said.

Smug jerk.

I take one last peek at my notes, and a chill slithers along my flesh.

The room is silent.

When I peer around, my stomach twists.

Harley, Rowan, Shayla, Jewls, and Ember stare at me keenly.

Mom fiddles with her pen, Grandma is perched with a sly grin, and Bex has a sudden interest in the hem of her skirt.

“Normally, Raven or Charlie would be the deciding vote, but we have enough experience between us.” Jewls waves a hand my way.

Please, no… I can’t take them all on. I’m sure to buckle under pressure.

“I’ll get us some snacks, or drinks, or clean the kitchen.” Mom scurries away with Bex on her heels.

Really smooth, traitors.

I glance at Maverick sleeping in his carrier and stop myself from lifting him.

Don’t cuddle the baby, Willow! That’s a dead giveaway!

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