Chapter 36 - Arthur
Arthur
Beth is sitting on the curb as we pull into the Arbor House parking lot.
Her shoes are off, her legs stretched out, a clipboard in her lap. Reading something with the unhurried focus of someone who has all the time in the world.
She looks up as we approach.
"Hey," she says. Like we're five minutes early for brunch.
I can feel my own pulse in my teeth.
"You're—" Knox starts.
"Here. Yes." She clicks the pen. "Have been for a while, as Ben told you."
Mason's voice comes out tight. "He also said your car broke down. Your phone was dead. We drove—"
"Ninety minutes at roughly a hundred miles an hour." She nods. "I'm aware." She glances down at the clipboard, then back up. "You also missed the rehearsal. Everyone's gone."
Mason is already pulling out his phone. "Shit. I need to call Ben and see how we can—"
"Put the phone away," she says.
"Beth—"
"Mason." Gentle, but with a firmness that makes him stop mid-dial.
"It's fine. You're all fine. When you didn't show and our venue time ran out, they just assumed you wouldn't make it.
They aren't angry. What they are is busy, scrambling to pick up table settings before the rental place closes, followed by a dinner with Harper's parents. "
"I've a hard time believing they're not at least a little mad we didn't show up to the rehearsal," Knox says.
"Believe or not, they were impressed by your resolve to rescue the maid of honor.
" She hops up, brushes off the back of her jeans, and gives us a look I can only describe as coach-to-late-players.
Patient, but not about to let it slide. "That said, Harper will still have your heads on sticks if you don't know your marks, your cues, your processional order, and exactly where to stand during the vows.
" She tucks the clipboard under her arm.
"Which is why I stayed. I can walk you through the whole thing. "
Something's different about her.
I felt it the second she looked up from that clipboard, but now that she's standing three feet from me it's unmistakable. The frantic energy from the last twenty hours or so is just gone. Whatever happened between her departure this morning and now seems to have burned it out of her
"So," Beth says, tucking the pen behind her ear. "Follow me. I know a spot."
She leads us around the side of the building and down a gravel path that curves behind the venue, away from the noise inside. After about a minute, the path opens into a small garden bordered by hedgerows and low stone walls.
In the center, a decorative wedding arch. White wood, woven with ivy and some kind of trailing flower I don't know the name of. Probably here for photo ops. The fading light hits it at an angle that makes the whole thing glow.
"Welcome to rehearsal," Beth says, gesturing at the arch like a game show host.
Knox looks around. "Nice spot."
"Right? This garden's got an arch and enough room to walk a straight line, and that's all we need.
" She flips a page on the clipboard. "Okay.
Harper's notes say the groomsmen and bridesmaids enter from the left in pairs, then split at the altar.
Ben will already be standing under the arch with the officiant.
Now, originally, each of you was paired with a bridesmaid, but we've decided, Maren and Luna are going to walk together.
Which means the three of you are with me. "
"All three of us?" Knox asks.
"Maid of honor flanked by her pack." She lowers the clipboard just enough to meet our eyes, a slow, heated look that hits me right in the chest.
Fuck, she has no idea how thin my self-control is wearing when she looks at me like this.
"So the processional goes like this—" She starts walking us through the formation, pointing out marks, counting out the tempo with little taps of the pen. Two-count steps. Pause at the midpoint. Split at the front.
And the whole time, I am fighting for my life.
Because her scent has shifted again. This time, in volume, like someone found the dial and turned it past every reasonable setting. It fills the garden, warm and bright and unfiltered, and every time the breeze moves I catch an even bigger wave of intoxicating honeysuckle.
And by the way Knox and Mason seem to lose their balance, I'm guessing they're getting hit too.
"—and after the vows, you'll turn to face the guests," Beth continues, completely unbothered. "Harper says the recessional music is a Sam Cooke song, so the pace will be a little faster. Like this."
She demonstrates the walk, pacing down an imaginary aisle through the garden, and the setting sun catches the line of her shoulders. Her scent rolls through me, and I have a brief, vivid flash of last night—Beth's voice in the dark saying more, her back arching, my hands—
I close my eyes.
I wonder what would happen if she wasn't on suppressants right now.
Maybe the four of us would resume where we left off last night... I mean, I'm personally getting ideas of what we could do under this decorative arch...
"Arthur."
I open my eyes. Beth is standing in front of me, one eyebrow raised.
"You with me?" She asks softly.
"Completely," I say.
"Good. Because I just explained the recessional order twice."
Knox chuckles.
"Sorry," I say. "Your scent is, uh—"
"Distracting?" she supplies.
"I was going to say devastating, but sure."
Something flickers across her face.
"I'm not surprised," she says simply. "I can smell all three of you just as clearly." She lets out a small, honest laugh. "Thank god for suppressants, right?"
She turns and walks back toward the arch. The three of us watch her go because there is genuinely nothing else in this garden worth looking at.
She sets the clipboard on the stone wall, leans back against one of the arch posts, and crosses her arms. The ivy frames her shoulders. The last golden light catches the side of her face.
"By the way, while we're off script," she says, her tone shifting to something more grounded, "there's something I need to tell you guys."
We wait.
"I turned down the buyout," she says.
The garden goes very quiet.
"Today," she continues. "In Chicago. I walked into the meeting and I turned it down. Wildflower and Vine is mine and it's staying mine."
To my left, Knox lets out a long, ragged exhale. Mason drops his head back, running a hand over his face like a massive weight just slid off his shoulders, and I realize I'm releasing a breath I've been holding for weeks.
She looks at each of us in turn.
"Something clicked today," she says. "I don't know how to explain it other than I feel like I finally stopped holding my own life at arm's length." She pauses. "It's mine again. All of it."
Every part of me wants to cross those three feet and put my hands on her. My fingers actually ache with it.
"Beth," Mason says, and his voice is rough.
"I'm not finished, though." She continues. "I also need you to know that I know what I want now. Specifically." Her eyes move between us. Slow. Deliberate. "And I think you know what I'm talking about."
My heartbeat is in my throat.
"But." She pushes off the arch and takes one step toward us. "Harper's wedding is in a few days. And I will not be responsible for me and three certain alphas missing the ceremony because they were too busy—" She pauses. The corner of her mouth curls. "Let's say, laying pipe."
Mason makes a choked sound.
"So." One finger raised. "Here's the deal. You are going to behave. All three of you. Until the last dance, the cake is cut, and Harper and Ben are safely in their car heading to their honeymoon. Then and only then do we get to..." She tilts her head, considering. "Break serious ground."
Knox has gone still. "Break ground..."
"On the project." She says it so smoothly it takes a second to land.
"I mean, working in construction, you should know: you don't start nailing things down until the foundation is set and the permit's been signed.
" She picks up the clipboard and taps it lightly against Mason's chest as she walks past him.
"Consider the permit pending until Saturday night. "
Mason catches the edge of the clipboard. Holds it. Holds her gaze.
"Saturday night," he repeats.
"After the last dance," she confirms.
She lets go and walks back up the gravel path toward the front of the venue, feet crunching on the stones, her scent trailing behind her like a lit fuse.
"So," she says, winking. "Let's pick up where we left off."