Page 28 of Christmas Past
8
Seth opened his eyes on the morning of his wedding to see snow swirling gently outside the window of his room at The Grand Hotel. He’d spent the night there at Devynn’s insistence — she’d said it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony, a tradition that seemed to matter more to her than he would have expected from someone who’d traveled through time and faced down multiple magical crises.
But if sleeping apart for one night would make her happy, then he was more than willing to accommodate that wish.
He lay in bed for a few minutes, listening to the soft whisper of heated air coming through the vent and the distant sounds of the hotel waking up around him. Later that day, he would be married to the woman who had literally changed his entire world. Maybe some men would have been anxious or even been having second thoughts on such a morning, but none of those worries had entered Seth’s mind for even a second. Marrying Devynn Rowe was the only possible thing…the only right thing…he could be doing today.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. “Seth?” came Marc Trujillo’s voice. “You awake in there?”
“Yep,” Seth called back, then sat up and reached for the robe he’d draped over the foot of the bed. After he shrugged it on, he went over and opened the door.
Marc entered, already dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, carrying two cups of coffee. Behind him came Belshegar, also impeccably dressed despite the early hour.
“Thought you might need some caffeine,” Marc said, and handed over one of the cups he held. “And some company. Bellamy kicked me out of our suite so she could help Devynn get ready, and Bill here was looking a little lost.”
“I don’t entirely understand human wedding customs,” Belshegar admitted. To look at him, you’d never know he was anything except the dark-haired thirty-something man he appeared to be. Then again, you could have said much the same thing about Belshegar’s soon-to-be father-in-law, who had otherworldly origins of his own. “But I’m told it’s traditional for the male friends to spend time with the groom on the day of the ceremony.”
Seth smiled as he took the cup of coffee Marc had offered him. It was a little amusing that an otherworldly being would be concerned about following proper wedding etiquette, but Seth knew that Belshegar had been working hard the past few months to fit in with human society. “I appreciate the company,” he said. “Both of you.”
“How are you feeling?” Marc asked as he settled into one of the room’s two chairs, while Bill took the other and Seth sat down at the foot of the bed. Smiling, he added, “Any cold feet?”
He knew his friend was joking, but Seth still considered the question as he took a sip of the coffee — which was, thankfully, much better than the stale brew they’d had to endure in 1948. He still didn’t know for sure how long that coffee had been sitting in the bungalow’s pantry.
“No cold feet,” he replied after a moment. “I’ve been waiting for this day for months.”
“Good answer,” Marc said, still wearing that same grin. “But I have to say, you’re taking this a lot more calmly than I probably will when my turn comes around.”
“So, when is your turn coming around?” Seth asked, genuinely curious. He knew Marc and Bellamy had been talking about marriage, but he hadn’t heard any concrete plans.
“April,” Marc replied, and Seth could see the happiness in his dark eyes. Previous comment aside, it didn’t seem as if he was too nervous about getting hitched, either. “The twenty-fifth. Bellamy wants a spring wedding at the winery.”
“That sounds great,” Seth said, and meant it. After everything Bellamy had been through — having her gifts grow in strange and unexpected ways, dealing with one of the Collector’s minions, finding her own path in life — she deserved to get her own happy ending.
“What about you, Bill?” Marc asked. “Any wedding plans on the horizon?”
Belshegar’s expression grew thoughtful. “Brianna and I have discussed it a good bit,” he said. “The logistics are somewhat complicated. But I’m sure it will be sorted out eventually,” he added, his expression hopeful. “Love finds a way, as they say.”
“It does,” Seth agreed, thinking of his own unlikely journey to this day. If someone had told him two years ago that he’d be marrying a time-traveling witch from the twenty-first century, he would have thought they’d lost their mind. Now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him.
The three of them spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing — transplanting Marc’s landscape design business to the Verde Valley from its original location in Tucson, the plot of land where Belshegar and Bree planned to build a house just down the road from Bellamy and Marc’s winery, Seth’s plans for possibly expanding the mercantile into the empty space next door. During all this, he couldn’t help being grateful for his friends’ presence. Not because he needed some kind of a distraction from pre-wedding jitters, but because sharing this morning with people who’d become important to him felt right.
A little after ten o’clock, there was another knock at the door. This time it was Connor Wilcox, looking distinguished in a charcoal gray suit, longish dark hair slicked back from his face.
“Morning, gentlemen,” Connor said as Seth let him in. “Angela sent me to check on our groom and make sure he hadn’t decided to make a run for it.”
“Not likely,” Seth replied with a laugh. “But I appreciate the concern.”
Connor’s expression grew more serious. “Actually, I wanted a few minutes to talk with you privately, if that’s all right. As the consort of your clan’s prima.”
Marc and Belshegar took the hint and excused themselves, promising to meet Seth downstairs for a late breakfast in a little while. Once they were gone, Connor settled into one of the now-vacant chairs and studied Seth with piercing dark green eyes that seemed to see everything.
“How are you really doing?” the primus asked. “Angela and I have been a little worried about you. It’s not every day you start over in a new world.”
Seth couldn’t help but be touched by their concern, even as he wasn’t entirely surprised by it, either. Connor and Angela had been incredibly welcoming when he’d first arrived in the twenty-first century, treating him not as an oddity or a burden, but as just another member of the McAllister clan. Their support had made his adjustment much easier than it might have been otherwise.
“I’m good,” Seth said, and realized he meant the sentiment completely. “Better than good, really. I know it might seem strange, given everything I’ve left behind, but I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Connor gave a thoughtful nod. “You do seem a lot more relaxed than you did when you first arrived.”
