Page 2 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

“Still magic.” She nudged me gently. “Sophie will kill you if you spend the whole night hiding in here.”

She had a point. Sophie, radiant bride and unofficial champion of my company, had gone to bat for me with the Laurents. This entire event was a gift—an opportunity to finally push De la Vega Events into the elite circle of shifter society. No more pack barbecues and budget receptions. This was the kind of night that could rewrite my client list.

I drained the rest of my champagne and set the flute aside. “Alright. I’ll circulate.”

“Good. And try not to scowl. It wrinkles your forehead.”

“I don’t scowl.”

“You definitely scowl.”

I left her smirking in the kitchen and stepped back into the cool evening air. The estate glowed under strings of lights, and laughter rippled through the garden like music.

I smoothed the front of my dress, squared my shoulders, and smiled.

The champagne hummed pleasantly through my veins as I moved through the crowd, offering polite nods and well-practiced smiles. I paused near the edge of the garden, where the scent of jasmine curled through the air and voices buzzed in soft, glittering clusters.

“Ada?”

I turned, already halfway through a polite smile—then blinked.

Dark curls. Olive skin. Bright, mischievous eyes that hadn’t changed since tenth grade.

“Leah?” I said, blinking again to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

She laughed, tugging me into a quick hug before I could decide if I wanted to be hugged. “I knew it was you! Still walking like you’re five minutes behind schedule but twenty ahead of everyone else.”

I chuckled, more surprised than anything. “What areyoudoing here?”

“I’m Sophie’s cousin. Well, second cousin, on her mother's side, whatever. She mentioned your company was catering, but I figured it had to be another Ada de la Vega. What are the odds?”

“Apparently not that low.” I tilted my head, studying her. “You haven’t aged.”

“Please, I’ve got a mortgage and three rescue huskies. I age every morning. You look amazing, though.”

I smiled, for real this time. “Thanks.”

“Let’s get coffee sometime,” she said, squeezing my hand. “For real. Catch up. I want to hear how you went from prom committee queen to runningthis.”

“I might take you up on that,” I said, and meant it.

She disappeared into the crowd, and I returned to my assigned table near the front. Prime placement, thanks to Sophie. Close enough to be seen, not close enough to be called onstage.

I eased into my seat, grateful for the moment of stillness.

The band shifted tempo, softening into the opening notes of something older. Familiar.

I froze.

Just a second. Barely that. But it was enough.

The violins drifted into the first bars ofoursong—low, tender, with that old-world romance vibe Adam had loved. He’d chosen it. Said it made him think of starlight and promises and the way my voice sounded when I said his name.

We’d danced to it on our mating night. Out in the garden behind that tiny reception hall we’d rented on the edge of town. My dress had been borrowed, his suit too tight across the shoulders. But none of that had mattered. There’d been candles in jam jars, and a half-melted cake, and laughter from our closest friends. He’d pulled me into his arms and whispered that no matter where life took us,this—that moment—was the best part.

I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. The music didn’t stop. Neither did the memories.

He’d twirled me slowly, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist like he couldn’t bear to let go. We hadn’t needed fancy florals or a ten-piece band. Just each other, and that song.

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