Elf on the Edge (The Wynter Brothers #3)

Prologue

Misty

“Yes, but we don’t know that he’s cheating.”

“The hiding of the phone, the fact that he was clearly staring down my shirt at the Boston Harbor Hawks holiday party, the GinnysGossip posts about a certain soon-to-be married rich, hot NHL captain sliding into the DMs of Instagram thots…” My bestie, Sienna, purses her mouth as she blends in the bronzer on my cheeks.

“Seriously, I think your evil stepsister bribed the makeup artist to make you look like a clown.”

“Shh! Andy Macklerini’s girlfriend did my hair and makeup. She’s trying to get into beauty influencing.”

Sienna mimes stabbing herself with a candy cane.

“She needs to get a job,” Granny Keagan insists as she jams a bobby pin in my hair. “A real one that’s not spending her hockey boyfriend’s money and making people look like deceased pageant queens on their one and only wedding day.”

“That shade of lipstick should have her dragged out and shot.” Sienna nods.

“Shhh!” I hiss as my stepsister, Brielle, and the rest of the Harbor Hawks hockey players’ wives and girlfriends look up at us then turn back to each other and giggle.

The other WAGs begrudgingly decorated the bridal suite with white flowers interspersed with crystals and glittery snowflakes.

They are currently lounging around on the plush settee, applying last-minute touches to their hair and makeup while whispering to each other and smirking.

Sienna looks angry in the mirror.

I grab my friend’s wrist before she can start something.

“They are so talking about you.” She aggressively adds eye shadow to my eyelids. “You never should have let them into your wedding party.”

“You’re my only friend, and Austen has like fifteen groomsmen. I had no choice.”

“You’re such a pushover.”

The eyebrow pencil digs into my brow line. “Ow!”

“Nuke it and start all over.” Granny Keagan pulls out a makeup wipe. “Just like you should do with your cheating hockey captain. Just saying!” she adds before I can protest.

“I have his Apple ID and password.” Sienna waves a makeup brush at me. “We can look, take a quick peek. See what kind of Santa Claus–shaped turd is in your stocking.”

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognize myself—the heavy makeup, the dyed blond hair, the fancy dress with the plunging neckline, the jewelry—something borrowed from the pieces my stepdad gave my mom.

Is Sienna right?

Austen has been a little distant lately.

The hockey season is heating up, I remind myself. You wanted a Christmas wedding. This is why hockey players typically get married in the summer. Suck it up.

“We have to be down at the chapel in ten,” Ivy, the wedding planner, calls.

“Last chance to check Brielle’s panties for snail trails,” Granny Keagan mumbles around a bobby pin.

“You don’t think she would…”

“Your evil, selfish, narcissistic stepsister who would literally steal your Christmas presents when you were kids then lie about it? No, she would never try to steal your fiancé.” Sienna rolls her eyes.

Granny Keagan mists hair spray all over me.

“I can’t be paranoid on my wedding day. Austen loves me.

I put in my resignation at work. I’m going to be a stay-at-home wife and soon-to-be mother.

We both want a big family with a big house to host holidays.

All my Christmas dreams are about to come true.

” I take a deep breath. “Austen loves me. He’s known me forever. I’m marrying my best friend.”

“‘Loose acquaintance’ is maybe more accurate,” Sienna hums to the ceiling.

Granny Keagan hoists me out of the chair, which sends Cocoa, my corgi, snorting awake from her nap under my dress. She grumbles when the cold air hits her nose and shuffles away when I dare to pet her without offering food first.

Sienna shakes her head.

“See? Even Cocoa doesn’t believe in this wedding.”

The organ music is blaring as Sienna shoos me through the side entrance into the bridal vestibule.

Through the partially open door, I watch my bridesmaids in their perfect heels and ensembles float in effortlessly, taking selfies that they’re going to post later.

“I’m not going to be in any of the photos of my own wedding.” I flex my toes in my white sneakers. “Maybe I should have worn heels.”

“We’re choosing comfort,” Sienna reminds me. “You cannot walk in heels.”

Cocoa sighs heavily in her flower girl outfit.

“Once you’re married to this ratfucker, you need to bring all those WAGs to heel.

You’re the captain’s wife, and they treat you like dirt.

They didn’t even tell you about that charity lunch they hosted until after the fact.

They can’t just not invite you to things.

” Granny Keagan shakes her fist at the WAGs.

“I was working, so I don’t blame them.”

“You shouldn’t have quit your job—a man is not a plan. I tried to make your mother learn from my mistake.”

“Gran,” Sienna hisses, “she’s getting married in five minutes. It’s too late. We’ll have to pick through the carnage after the fiery explosion.”

The wedding planner rushes them out to the main entryway. The wedding is starting.

And the rest of my life.

The butterflies in my stomach aren’t nerves.

I’m excited. I’m going to be Mrs. Austen Langley.

It’s my childhood dream come true—even if the gossip pages that I know I shouldn’t be reading think that the only way the Austen Langley would be with someone like me is if he’s really in love with my personality, since it’s obviously not for my looks.

A backhanded compliment is still a compliment.

And he is in love with me. He and I are meant to be. Sienna’s just worried that my stepsister is going to ruin it.

The ushers open the door to my winter wonderland wedding. I’m teary-eyed as I take it all in. The chapel looks like something out of The Nutcracker, like an ice palace.

“Oh my gosh, I’m getting married!” I say through a sob.

My stepfather seems a little nervous as he offers me his arm.

I grit my teeth into a smile. My birth dad never showed. Of course. Just left me on read when I offered to pay to fly him in, first-class no less, so he could walk me down the aisle.

Now I’m the family charity case.

Again.

My stepfather’s mom and sister glare at me as Ryan West slowly marches me down the aisle.

“Thanks,” I whisper to him.

“Any time, kiddo.” He gives me a crooked smile, a quick kiss on the cheek, then hugs Austen and claps him on the back.

“Take care of her, all right?” Ryan sits down next to my mom, takes her hand, kisses my newest baby brother, and gazes at my mom like it’s the first time he sees her and he’s falling in love with her all over again.

I have that, I remind myself desperately as I turn to face Austen.

The groom is tall, handsome, broad shouldered, and clean-cut.

I’ve been in love with him since the moment I met him, after my mom showed up at my school one day to tell me that we were moving to Rhode Island to move in with a man she met at a party a month ago.

Austen was coming home from hockey practice to the house across the street, sweaty hair flopping in his face, as we pulled up in the old station wagon.

And he smiled at me.

It’s the same smile he smiles at me now… but how am I just realizing that it doesn’t reach his eyes?

It’s all that hairspray you were huffing.

Also probably all the makeup. Austen is staring at me like he doesn’t even recognize me… Wait, no, he’s looking past me to Brielle.

My stepsister tosses her hair.

My mouth is dry as I take Austen’s hand and turn to the priest. My fingers are sweaty.

Austen drops my hand and wipes his palm on his dress slacks.

I clutch my bouquet, the flower stems crunching in my hands, grateful for the veil that I hand-embroidered with little snowflakes to block my trembling mouth and teary eyes.

I am not making a mistake.

The priest starts the ceremony.

Ever since I saw Austen from the dirty window of the station wagon, I’ve imagined our wedding day, imagined how our families would be there, imagined how he’d get emotional when he saw me for the first time in my white dress…

Did he even look at me when I walked down the aisle?

I’ve imagined how the priest would say, If anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace…

And we’d read our vows, and Austen would carry me out of the chapel to start our new life, and for once in my life, I would be the center of attention, not my stepsister, not my mom, not any of the babies she’s had, or the newly minted NHL players she and my stepdad have created. Me.

But now, with everyone’s eyes on me? All I want to do is go home and crawl under my blankets in my cozy attic bedroom and watch Christmas movies and sit in the dark.

“I object!”

All the attention in the room swings to Brielle. My stepsister moves in front of me so she’s right in the center of the altar, framed beauteously by the winter wonderland arbor I painstakingly handcrafted with silk and lace flowers and hand-beaded snowflakes.

“I’m sorry, Misty, but you and Austen can’t get married.

” She turns to me, eyes watery, but I catch an evil glint before her attention turns back to the audience—a crowd full of NHL players, current and former, all of Austen’s and my stepdads’ friends, all of Austen’s family that never accepted me into their hallowed ranks, all the media, and some minor sports celebrities.

They’re shocked, hands over their mouths.

The chapel echoes with gasps of surprise as my stepsister cries.

“I have a horrible confession.” She presses her hands to her chest.

I glance at Austen, expecting him to be angry, but instead, he looks… happy? Relieved?

“Baby?” I whimper.

“Austen and I… we’re in love. I’m so sorry, Misty. I know how much you were looking forward to your wedding.” Brielle gives me a syrupy, sympathetic smile. “But I just can’t let you go through with it, knowing that my stepsister is marrying a man who is unfaithful to her.”