I stare at her. “Duck? That’s your survival advice?”
She shrugs. “Always works for me.”
Dear god. She’s actually serious.
I blow out a shaky breath, wondering if I can steal a gun off one of the goodfellas milling around in front of the church before they’re confiscated by security.
We’re hustled from the limo into the church by a circle of bodyguards three deep. I keep expecting a bomb to go off, but we make it inside without incident and settle into a room in the back reserved for the bride’s quarters.
Our bouquets are waiting there, nestled in white boxes with tissue paper and cotton. Mine is a perfect sphere of pearl-dotted Stephanotis. It smells heavenly.
Sloane’s bouquet is a dramatic cascade of hot pink orchids studded with Swarovski crystals. It’s glamorous and over-the-top, just like her.
Two minutes after we arrive, so does Nat.
The moment she comes through the door and spots Sloane in her dress, her face crumples, and she starts crying. “You look like a princess.”
Sloane smiles. “Bitch, I’m a queen. Get your butt over here.”
She opens her arms. Nat runs to her. The two of them stand hugging in the middle of the room for so long, I wonder if the wedding will have to be delayed.
Then Nat turns to me. Her watering eyes widen as she looks me up and down. “Riley? Little Riley? Holy cow.”
I smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She comes over and gives me a big hug, too. I haven’t seen her in so long, I’d almost forgotten what she looks like. Black hair, blue-gray eyes, scarlet lips…she’s gorgeous.
She whispers, “Are you okay?”
“Ugh. Yes and no. We’ll talk about it later. There’s way too much to go over right now.”
“Okay, sweetie. I’m glad to see you.”
“You, too.”
Sloane says warmly, “Look at my girls. This church will be full of boners. Even that sad statue we passed on the way in will be sprouting wood.”
I say over Nat’s shoulder, “That was a statue of the Virgin Mary.”
“So she’ll get a lady boner.”
“You’re going to hell.”
“Ha! They wish.”
Nat pulls away and smiles at me. “The queen is proud of her handmaidens.”
“We do look pretty good, though. And you’re glowing.”
Sloane says, “That’s because she’s getting the big Bratva bratwurst on the regular.”
Nat’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “She really has a way with words, doesn’t she?”
“She missed her true calling writing love songs.”
Sloane chuckles. “Nat, your gown is hanging on the back of the bathroom door. We’ve got about ten minutes before the coordinator will come get us and we start down the aisle.”
As Nat goes into the bathroom to change, I say, “Which reminds me. Are there groomsmen we’ll be walking with?”
“No. Kieran and Spider will be waiting at the altar with Declan.”
“Oh. So what’s the order?”
“The order of what?”
“Like does Nat go in front of me, then I go, then you go?”
Sloane walks over to me and rests her hand on my cheek. “No, silly,” she says, smiling. “The bride is supposed to walk down the aisle with the most important people in her life. So the three of us are walking down together, arm in arm.”
My chin quivers. My eyes well. I have to swallow around the rock in my throat. “If you make me cry, I’ll rip that tiara right off your head.”
“For a girl who showed up at my house looking like something out of the Backwoods Survival Guide, you’re a big softie.”
“I would’ve thought you’d think it was an improvement over all the gray fleece.”
“Honey, you went from sweatpants sloth to G.I. Jane. It was a lateral move, not an upward one.”
Looking stunning, Nat emerges from the restroom in her dress. We make a few last-minute adjustments to our hair and makeup, pick up our bouquets, and head out when the coordinator knocks.
And believe it or not, the ceremony goes off without a hitch.
Declan is glorious in his tux. Sloane is a fairy tale. They exchange vows and kiss to thundering applause.
Wisely, they omit the part of the vows where the priest asks if anyone objects.
There’s a small moment of awkwardness during the photographs afterward, when Spider does nothing but stare at me with such searing intensity, my ears burn. But it’s a momentary hiccup in an otherwise perfect event.