“A moment, ladies,” Lindsey said, sticking her clutch under her arm while she gave me a final look. She scanned hair, makeup, dress, bouquet, and hem, before nodding with approval. “This House is clean,” she said.
“That bit doesn’t really work here,” I said. “Which means you’ve been spending too much time with Luc.”
“Can’t help it,” she said, squinting as she leaned forward to tuck in an errant lock of my hair. “I’m crazy about the guy.” She glanced back at Jeff and Catcher. “It’s time for me to take my seat. Which one of you handsome lads would like to escort me?”
“It’s my turn,” Jeff said, offering Lindsey his arm as Catcher opened the door so they could slip through.
When they had, I gestured toward the door. “Can I peek in there?” It was time to face the music—and the possibility of doves.
Catcher pointed a warning finger at me. “Don’t let them see you, and don’t make a scene. We just got everyone into their seats.”
“Not a problem,” I said as he pulled open the door a skinny inch.
“Oh,” I said, eyes widening as I took it in.
It looked like a fairy tale. The garden was swathed in pale, gauzy fabric as delicate as clouds, illuminated by what must have been a thousand candles that reflected off stone floors, glass walls, and rows of lacquered white chairs.
The air was cool and crisp with the scent of flowers—more densely ruffled peonies and pale green hydrangeas bundled together with Lindsey’s “branches” in tall crystal stems and swags gathered at the corners of the rooms, and covered an arch at the end of the aisle.
And in front of that glorious arbor stood the man I’d marry. He wore a black two-button tuxedo with a black bow tie that fit his long, lean body perfectly. His shoulder-length hair was brushed back, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips. His hands were crossed in front of him, but his shoulders were straight and proud. He looked powerful, happy, and very content with his lot.
My favorite human, my grandfather, stood behind him in a very smart suit, his hair slicked and combed back, his hands clasped around a small leather book. The mayor had given him authority to conduct the wedding as a thank-you for Towerline and an apology for letting Sorcha slip through her fingers when it was over.
Just to the side, Cadogan vampire Katherine sat behind a cello in a black gown, and her brother, Thomas, held a violin. They played soft classical music as people settled into their seats.
It was beautiful and happy and seemed like a fairy tale. And I made myself forget that most fairy tales had dark endings.
I stood up again as Catcher closed the door, and glanced back at Mallory. Joy bubbled up into a nervous laugh. “Holy shit, Mallory. I’m about to get married.”
She straightened her skirt, checked her earrings, gave me a sidelong smile. “You’re about to get married to Darth Sullivan. It’s a good thing I made you face him down that night, oh so long ago.”
“I think I was perfectly willing to do the facing down. But yeah, you definitely egged me on.”
“I’m an agitator,” she agreed. “You two have been through a lot. But there’s no one else I’d trust you with, Merit.”
“If you make me cry and mess up Lindsey’s makeup, she will probably stab you. Or at least give you a good Cadogan beat-down.”
We turned at the sound of footsteps. Malik, Amit, and my father walked toward us. All three wore dark tuxedos similar in styling to Ethan’s, crisp white shirts, and pale green pocket squares. My father carried Olivia, who looked adorable in her sleeveless dress, with a pale green bow at the waist and tulle skirt. There was a small bow in her blond curls, and a white basket clenched in her tiny fist.
; “It’s mini-Merit!” she said, and pulled hers out of a second box. Same flowers, smaller size.
“Can I see now?” I asked, holding the flowers obediently in front of me.
“Voilà!” Lindsey said, and rotated the chair.
I stared.
My makeup was, just as Lindsey had said, soft and romantic. My skin looked luminous, my lips bee-stung and just the right shade of warm pink, my pale cheeks prettily flushed. My eyelashes looked a mile long; I’d have to get that secret from her later. There was something a little bit antique in the look—a softened version of a movie star’s makeup from the forties.
She’d found the same balance with my hair. She’d waved it into soft curls, then arranged it in an elegant loose knot at the back of my neck. Delicate white flowers that matched my bouquet were pinned into the top of the knot.
“It’s amazing,” I said, looking back at her. “Seriously—you could do this professionally.”
She winked. “One of my many talents. And I did, for a very brief time in the forties. So many pin curls and pompadours.”
That explained that.
• • •