“I know.” He helps me down, steadying me when my legs wobble. “Maybe we can figure something out. Weekends, or I could cut it short, or—”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say.
“Deal.” He grins and steals a quick kiss. “Think anyone noticed we’ve been gone?”
“Lucy definitely knows. She has scary intuition about these things.”
“Worth it.” He opens the door, checking that the hallway is clear before taking my hand. “Come on. Let’s go pretend we weren’t just fucking in the bathroom.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You love me anyway.”
“I do,” I say, and mean it completely. “Even when you’re planning imaginary summer vacations without me.”
He rolls his eyes.
I swat his butt.
But I’m still smiling.
Chapter Forty-Six
Happy Ever After
Clare
The bridal suite at the Four Seasons overlooks Lake Minnetonka like something out of a fairy tale. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the water like a postcard, and somewhere beyond those manicured grounds, three hundred of our closest friends and family are gathering for what the wedding planner keeps calling “the event of the season.”
NHL money. It’s still surreal.
Through the window, I can see the ceremony setup. White roses everywhere. A string quartet. Chairs arranged with precision on the manicured lawn.
And guests. So many guests. Hockey players and their wives, media people, family friends, plus half of Minnesota society because apparently marrying Mitchell Drake makes you newsworthy.
“You sure about this circus?” Bryn asks, following my gaze. “It’s not exactly the intimate ceremony you always talked about.”
She’s right. Two years ago, if someone had told me I’d be having a three-hundred-person wedding with a write-up in the newspaper and a seven-course dinner, I’d have laughed in their face. But somewhere between falling for Mitch and joining his family, intimate became less important than including everyone who matters to us.
“It’s perfect,” I say.
Bryn sets down her phone and gives me a look.
Before I can argue, there’s a knock on the door. Karen enters carrying a jewelry box and wearing a dress that screams “mother of the groom with excellent taste and an unlimited budget.”
“Something borrowed,” she announces, opening the box to reveal a stunning diamond necklace. “Tom’s grandmother’s. She wore it to her wedding in 1952.”
My throat goes tight. In eighteen months, this woman has claimed me so completely that I sometimes forget she’s not actually my mother. The way she worried when I had the flu last winter. How she calls every Sunday just to check in. The careful way she’s included me in every family tradition without ever making me feel like an outsider.
“Karen, I can’t—”
“You absolutely can.” She moves behind me, fastening the clasp with gentle fingers. “You’re family now, sweetheart. This is what family does.”
In the mirror, I see three women who’ve become my chosen sisters watching with identical expressions of barely contained emotion. Maddie clutching baby Emma like a shield against tears. Bryn pretending she’s not crying by focusing aggressively on her mascara. And me, looking like someone I almost don’t recognize.
The dress is perfection—custom Vera Wang that fits like it was painted on my body. The kind of gown that makes you feel like a queen and hides every imperfection. My hair falls in Hollywood waves over one shoulder, and somehow the makeup artist has managed to make my makeup look flawless without looking fake.
I look like Mitchell Drake’s bride. Like someone who belongs in his world of first-class flights and designer everything.