“Oh Bryn.” I give her an awkward hug because I don’t want to wrinkle our dresses or mess up our hair. “Don’t worry about the what-ifs or how fast your relationship has moved. You love Matt. He loves you. Be happy that he’s so willing to commit to you.”

“I know. You’re right. I should be happy.” Bryn fans her hands in front of her eyes, like that’s going to stop her from crying. I can feel my own eyes answering the call to cry with her, but I try my best to ignore it. I do not want to ruin my makeup. “And it’s your wedding day which means I need to shut the hell up and quit whining.”

I start to laugh and shake my head. “I think weddings make everyone emotional. You’re not the first person to fall apart on me. Still”—I wag my finger at her, my voice turning stern—“you need to stop crying before you ruin your makeup. The ceremony is going to start soon and the only one allowed to hold it up is me.”

“Okay. Right. You’re so right.” Bryn sniffs and wipes delicately beneath her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “I’ll touch it up and pretend we never had this conversation.”

“No.” I shake my head and take her hands, squeezing them gently. “We’ll resume this conversation later, all right? I’m here for you. You’ve been such a support to me through all of this. I’m not about to ignore you during your time of need.”

Bryn smiles. “You and Ivy are the best friends ever, you know that?”

I smile in return. “Right back at you, sweetie.” My smile fades. “I miss Ivy though. We need to call her. I hope she’s okay.”

Ivy

“GET IT OUT! Oh, my God.” I let my head fall back against the pillows. My entire body aches, especially my back. My water broke about twenty minutes ago and the nurse said I’m transitioning, whatever the hell that means. I can’t pay attention; that’s Archer’s job. I’m too busy birthing his baby.

“Babe. You need to calm down. Reserve your energy.” He’s right by my side, smoothing my hair away from my forehead, offering me water or ice chips from a little paper cup the nurse brought by earlier. What I’d really like is a sandwich but they’re not giving me anything to eat until after the baby comes.

Ugh. I’m starving.

Shivers move through me to the point where I can’t seem to stop shaking, and I have no idea what’s wrong with me. “Y-you’re r-right,” I say through chattering teeth. Archer slips his arm around my shoulders, and I lean against him, my forehead pressing into his jaw as he comforts me. He’s been sitting on the edge of the hospital bed since we arrived, always with an encouraging word or a kiss on the forehead.

I really, really love this man. And I would really, really love to have this baby. Now.

“You cold?” He rubs my shoulder and tugs me even closer which makes me wince. I don’t want to protest since I love nothing more than being in my husband’s arms, but I am incredibly uncomfortable. In pain. I feel like I’m about to drop a two ton brick from my vagina—not that I would ever repeat that to Archer—and I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, and now I think I know why.

I was in labor. Duh.

“No.” I shake my head, my teeth chattering so bad I clamp them shut and try to get myself under control. “I’m actually pretty hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” he murmurs with a soft laugh. I laugh too because he’s always saying things like that.

“Considering that I feel the farthest thing from hot and sexy, I appreciate the compliment,” I say as the door opens and we both glance toward it.

A nurse comes in, a pleasant smile on her face. She takes one look at me and the smile fades as she rushes toward the bed. “Ooh, I think we should check you.”

“Why?” Archer asks as he stands. Worry radiates off him, and I love that he’s always my knight, standing up for me no matter what. “Is she okay?”

“She’s probably close.” By my side, the nurse’s voice is gentle as she asks me to lie back. I spread my legs, and she peeks under my gown, a little sound escaping her before she pops her head back up. “I think we’re ready to call the doctor in. Do you feel the urge to push?”

“Sorta,” I say just as another contraction grips me. My voice fades, but a groan escapes as I hold my belly with one hand. Since monitors are attached to my belly, the steady thump of our baby’s heartbeat fills the room, and I concentrate on the sound which reassures me that he or she is trying to get out.

“Let me go fetch the doctor. I’ll be right back.” The nurse hurries out of the room, leaving Archer and me alone once more. He takes my hand the moment she’s gone, interlacing his fingers with mine.

“You ready?” he asks. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m . . . f-fine.” I’m overcome with shivers again, and I press my lips together, trying to keep it all under control. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, I swear. Like this isn’t really happening to me, though it so totally is. “D-do you think Marina and G-gage are mad at us?”

Archer’s jaw sets in that way it does when he’s being stubborn. “I don’t care if they’re mad or not. You’re about to give birth, Ivy. It’s not like we said, ‘hey, let’s f**k up Gage and Marina’s wedding day on purpose.’”

“I know, I know.” I sigh and lean my head against the pillow. I stare up at the pale green ceiling and wonder how many other women have been in this very room doing the same thing I’m about to do. “I can’t help the twinge of guilt I’m feeling though.”

“Hey, they understand. I know they do. Gage told me to tell you that they’re thinking of you and can’t wait to meet the baby.”

“I hope they can stop by before they leave for their honeymoon. If the baby will even be born by then,” I say with an exasperated sigh.

“The baby will be here by then,” Archer says assuredly, leaning over so he’s looking me directly in the eyes. “Have faith, babe. It’s all going to come together. Trust me.”

As I stare into my husband’s eyes, I know I trust him one hundred percent. I’m just tired and scared and eager. Eager for all of this to be over with, so I can hold my child in my arms and welcome him or her into this world.

“Hello.” The obstetrician strides into the room, the tails of his white coat flying behind him as he approaches the bed. “I hear you’re about to have a baby. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I answer, offering a smile in Archer’s direction.

He smiles in return, handsome despite the circles ringing his eyes and his messy hair. “Me too, babe,” he says, not even looking at the doctor. No, my husband’s gaze is only for me. “Me too.”

Chapter Three

* * *

Gage

I’M NERVOUS. I didn’t think this would happen. I’ve been the cool, easygoing eye of the storm that has been my poor stressed-out fiancée. But now that the moment has come, and I’m standing with Matt by my side, in front of our guests, as we all wait for Marina to make her appearance, I feel like I might faint.

Yeah. Not good.

Locking my knees, I swallow hard and try not to fidget as the music plays. A crisp breeze washes over us, cooling my sweat-dampened forehead, and I give it a subtle swipe, noting that my palms are clammy.

I’m a freaking mess.

“Calm down, dude,” Matt whispers out of the side of his mouth. We’re standing so close our shoulders are practically touching. Wonder if he’d catch me if I fall. “You look like you’re gonna drop.”

“I feel like I’m gonna drop,” I tell him, feeling like an idiot but not really caring. He’s my new best man, so I need him to step it up. If I pass out, it’s on him.

“Your girl is going to make her appearance at any minute.” Matt nods toward the beginning of the aisle where no one stands. Where are the girls? We already made our walk down the aisle, Matt walking Marina’s mom to her seat, me walking my mother.

“Hope she shows up soon,” I mutter, meaning it. I feel antsy. My suit is too tight. My throat is dry. I’m dying for a drink. Preferably booze.

Probably not a good idea.

The flower girl suddenly struts down the aisle, cute as can be in a white lacy gown. Louisa is one of Marina’s cousins. She has about a bazillion of them.

Almost all of them are sitting in the crowd, watching me. Probably pissed because Marina and I both agreed that we didn’t want a huge, ridiculous wedding party. We blew their chance to wear bridesmaids’ gowns.

Then Bryn appears, a freaking vision in pale yellow. She walks down the aisle slowly, a coy smile on her face as she shoots me a glance, then trains her gaze on Matt. As her smile disappears, her eyes widen, and I look at Matt, who’s staring at Bryn like she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen in his life.

Poor dude is straight up in love with Bryn. Like a complete and total goner. I get what he’s feeling.

The music fades and a new song starts—a low, melodic tune played to perfection by the small group of musicians set up off to the right. I straighten my spine, clasp my hands behind my back as I wait for my bride to make her appearance.

And then . . . there she is. Her arm curls around her father’s, who looks respectably intimidating in his tuxedo. A frothy veil covers her face, and the skirt of her gown is wide, nearly as wide as the aisle they’re walking down.

Tears threaten, and I blink once. Hard. Damn it, I’m not going to cry. I’m happy, not sad. But I’m also overwhelmed, filled with love for this woman whose about to become my partner in life.

They approach and stop just before us, turning to each other so her father can lift the veil, revealing her face to me for the first time. He leans in and kisses her cheek as the minister asks who gives this woman to this man, just as we rehearsed yesterday. Her father says I do, his deep voice a little shaky and my sympathy goes out to him.

I’m still feeling pretty shaky myself.

Marina steps up to stand beside me, and I take her hand, unable to stop from leaning in and brushing a quick kiss against her cheek. “You look beautiful,” I murmur, my voice just as shaky as her dad’s.

But I don’t care. I have no shame. I’m getting married, damn it. I’m allowed to cry. To smile. To laugh. I’m making this woman mine.

Forever.

Marina

WE STOP AT the beginning of the aisle, waiting for the cue from the music. Dad lays his hand over mine and gives it a squeeze. “You look beautiful, Marina. Your mom and I are so proud of you.”

I nod, not trusting my voice. I’m afraid I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to do that. Not yet.

“I’m going to have a talk with Gage. Tell him he better treat you right or he’ll have to answer to me,” Dad continues.

“Oh, Daddy.” My voice cracks, and I press my lips together for a brief moment to keep the sob in. Once I have it under control, I whisper, “He loves me. I know he does.”

“I know he does too, princess.” Dad pats my hand just as the music gets louder. “That’s our sign, sweetheart. Let’s do this.”

I let Dad lead me down the aisle toward Gage. He looks so handsome, the sun shining down on him, making his dark hair glint. He smiles when our eyes meet, though I know he can hardly see me through the veil.

That was the plan. I wanted to draw it out. Make him anticipate me.

When Dad lifts the veil and kisses me, I see the way Gage’s eyes widen, the sheen of tears in their depths. Oh God, if he’s going to cry, I’m definitely going to cry, and I don’t know if I can take this.

Dad hands me over to Gage, and I take my place beside him, surprised when he drops a kiss on my cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. My heart skips at his words and the sincerity behind them, the love shining in his eyes.

“So do you,” I say, because he does. My groom is gorgeous in his tux, his hair perfect, his expression nervous. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He brings our clutched hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, earning a disapproving noise from the minister that makes us both smile.

The ceremony starts with words of love and commitment, the sanctity of marriage, the importance of sticking together through the good times and the bad. We turn to face each other to recite our vows, and I’m overwhelmed with love for Gage as I repeat the words the minister says to me. I mean every single thing I say to Gage, and I know he feels the same way.

Matt hands over the ring, and Gage slips it on my finger, a breathtaking diamond band he chose for me months ago. Then it’s my turn, and I take the simple platinum band from Bryn and slip it on Gage’s shaking finger. He’s still nervous. Excited. I feel the same.

“I now declare you husband and wife. Gage, you may kiss your bride,” the minister says.

There’s a roaring in my ears as Gage pulls me into his arms, his face, his scent so familiar, so dear to me. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, sucking in a harsh breath when his lips light upon mine. The touch is faint and damp, a simple brush before he presses harder, deepening the kiss with a quick and eager swipe of his tongue.

I cling to him, ignoring the hoots and hollers from the crowd because oh my, God, I know we’re putting on a show. But I don’t care. Neither does Gage. I want to remember this moment forever. Want to make this one of the most memorable days of my life—of his too.

“You’re mine now, baby,” he says once we finally withdraw. I smile because he’s grinning at me, looking almost as if he’s in a daze. “It’s official and everything.”