Chapter 18 #2
My mouth pops open before I can stop it.
He chuckles, stepping closer, one hand reaching up to gently close my jaw with his thumb.
“I’m joking...well, sort of. She’d have a hard time spending all my money in one night.
I think.” He frowns, pretending to actually consider it.
“Yeah...probably.” The sound that slips from me almost feels like laughter—small, uncertain, but real.
He tilts his head, eyes softer now. “You want to go downstairs? Get some breakfast, coffee? I know the second I walk out of this room, a tiny blonde is going to pounce on us both. Mainly you. But she’s harmless, I promise. You’re safe with her.”
My brow lifts. “Harmless?”
He grins, grabbing his shirt from the chair. “She can pack a mean right hook.”
I take a step toward him before I even realize I’ve moved. It’s like gravity itself shifts—pulling me into his orbit, into the quiet warmth radiating off his skin. My chest brushes his, and the contact steals my breath.
I should step back. I don’t.
My hand lifts of its own accord, trembling as I place it over his heart.
The beat beneath my palm is steady, strong.
For a moment, I just stand there, feeling the thud of it echo through my fingertips before my hand drifts higher, sliding up the column of his throat until my fingers curl around the back of his neck.
Trey doesn’t move. He just watches me. Those impossible green eyes pin me in place, like he’s seeing right through every wall I’ve ever built.
“Trey,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “Are you sure you want to do this for me? You could marry anyone. You…you don’t need to take on my battles for me. I’d understand if you don’t want to. It’s too much…I, I—”
“I’m sure.”
His answer is quiet, but it lands like a strike of lightning between us.
The air changes. Thickens. Neither of us looks away.
He lowers his head slightly, his hands finding my hips—fingers curling in just enough to make my pulse trip over itself.
My lips part on a shaky exhale. He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth of his breath ghost across my skin.
I rise up on my toes, drawn higher by something I can’t name. Something reckless and aching. For a suspended heartbeat, it feels inevitable—like the world is holding its breath, waiting for that final inch to disappear between us.
The moment is interrupted by a loud knock on the door.
We both freeze.
Trey’s grip tightens, just for a moment, before he exhales a curse under his breath and steps back, running a hand through his hair. My heart is still sprinting. My skin still tingles where he touched me. Somewhere beyond the door, a bright voice rings out—too loud, too cheerful for the hour.
“I heard voices and movement! Rise and shine, Baker and Baker-to-be! We’ve got a wedding to get ready for!”
The words hit like sunlight through glass, scattering the fragile quiet between us. Trey laces his fingers through mine as he crosses the room. His hand is warm—grounding me in a way that makes my chest ache. He pauses at the door, glancing down at me.
“You sure you’re ready?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for anything that comes after this. When he opens the door, the morning light spills in along with a burst of energy in human form.
“Hi! Oh, my gosh! You’re gorgeous!”
“Nuh-uh. You’re not Mac. You’re never this peppy this early. You on meth or something?”
“She’s been to Patty’s, so…basically, yeah.”
A petite blonde blur darts into the room before I can even blink, arms full of bags and boxes. She dumps everything on the bed and spins around, beaming like sunshine itself.
“I’m Kayla,” she says, pointing a thumb at herself, “and I’m this delinquent’s best friend. It’s so nice to meet you!”
Trey gives my hand a soft squeeze, his thumb brushing against my knuckles like a quiet reassurance.
“Hi,” I manage, clearing my throat. “I’m Seraphina. Thank you for all of this, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”
Mac/Kayla—grins, glancing at Trey with a conspiratorial gleam. “Oh, I absolutely did! And I had fun doing it!
“Figured you’d want this,” a deep voice says, smooth and unhurried.
My head turns, and for a second, I forget to breathe. The man standing there is tall—broad shoulders, dark messy hair, eyes that feel like they could see too much. There’s something magnetic about him, something that hums quietly beneath the surface.
Trey smirks at my expression, that mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. “This is Logan,” Trey says, voice laced with teasing. “Mac’s boyfriend. They’re practically joined at the hip, so don’t get any ideas. Actually—how do you two feel about a double wedding?”
Logan snorts. “Keep talking, Baker. Today’s about you and Ms. Seraphina here, not about my Angel.”
Trey groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Every single time, man. You never just say Mac and me. I swear, it’s a loss to the world. Paul Rudd would be so disappointed in you.”
“He didn’t seem to mind when I met him at the Ghostbusters afterparty,” Logan fires back, deadpan.
“Paul Rudd?” I question.
Mac—Kayla—pauses mid-motion, arms full of what looks like an entire makeup kit. She leans in close, whispering, “When Trey talks, it’s either wildly inappropriate or a pop culture reference. This one’s the latter.”
“Ah. Thank you…Mac—Kayla.”
“Uh-uh,” she says, shaking her head with a grin. “You can call me Mac. Or Kayla. Your choice.”
“Then Sera,” I offer shyly. “You can call me Sera.”
“Aww,” Mac coos. “That’s such a beautiful name.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I duck my gaze. “Thank you.”
“I swear, you two are so cute, you’re gonna make me mist up,” Trey drawls.
“Let’s give the ladies some room,” Logan says smoothly. I catch the way Mac looks at him—soft, adoring. It’s in the tiny tilt of her mouth, the calm in her eyes.
“Be nice to my bride-to-be!”
Mac rolls her eyes, smirking.
Logan turns back to me, extending his hand. I hesitate—half a heartbeat—before placing mine in his. His grip is firm but gentle, his smile easy
“Welcome to the family,” he says.
Something in my chest stirs. A word I haven’t felt in a very long time.
My cheeks warm. “You’re all so beautiful,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I feel like I’m suddenly very inadequate.”
Mac laughs softly, reaching over to take a coffee from Logan. “Oh, sweetheart, no one is inadequate around here.”
I don’t know what to say to that. No one’s ever said something like that to me before.
The man in the doorway doesn’t look real.
Golden skin catches the morning light like brushed bronze, and those eyes—an impossible, electric blue—cut through the dim of the room.
Dark lashes frame them, absurdly long, the kind most women would trade their souls for.
His hair is shaved close on the sides, longer on top, a little messy, like he ran his fingers through it instead of bothering with a comb.
There’s a quiet strength to the way he stands, one hand tucked into his pocket, shoulder resting against the doorframe.
“Logan, stop existing for a minute, she’s picking up on your juju,” Trey groans, voice thick with mock annoyance.
Logan’s mouth curves into a lazy smile. “My angel can be a bit of a bully, so make sure to say if you don’t like something,” he says, lowering his tone conspiratorially before adding with a stage whisper, “She may have had one too many coffees.”
The way he says angel isn’t casual—it’s reverent.
Mac shoots him a playful glare. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous because he didn’t get to help me pick out your dress.”
“You mean the two dresses,” Trey says dryly. “Because apparently one wasn’t enough.”
“Of course not!” Mac exclaims, tossing her hair dramatically. “What if she didn’t like satin? What if she wanted lace? What if she wanted both? It’s her wedding day, Baker—priorities.”
Logan chuckles, sipping his coffee. “She’s been up since four ironing.”
“I wanted it perfect,” Mac says with a shrug. Then she turns to me, her smile softening. “You deserve a perfect morning, Sera.”
The words hit me in a place I didn’t know was still fragile. My throat tightens, and I look away, focusing on the cups of coffee, the dresses still in their garment bags, the sunlight spilling across the room.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Trey’s hand brushes my back, a quiet, grounding touch. “Told you she’s harmless,” he murmurs.
Mac grins. “Mostly.”
Mac claps her hands suddenly, startling me. “Right, boys—out!
Trey blinks, halfway through reaching for the coffee Logan brought up. “Out?”
“Yes, out,” Mac says, pointing toward the door like a tiny, blonde general. “Bride business. Girl time. It’s tradition.”
Logan raises an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth. “You really believe in that superstition?”
“I believe in tradition,” she says sweetly, “and in getting this girl looking like the goddess she is.”
Trey makes a face, glancing down at himself. “Mac, I haven’t even got any clothes on.”
Mac’s gaze flicks over him—then she folds her arms, unimpressed. “You don’t need clothes. You need a shower. Use our room. Logan, make sure he wears what I ordered.”
Logan groans. “You ordered me clothes, too, didn’t you?”
“Obviously,” she says, flicking her hand. “You’re all going to match. It’s going to be beautiful.”
Trey groans. “Beautiful isn’t really my aesthetic.”
“Neither is stinking up the ceremony with last night’s breath,” Mac shoots back. “Shower. Now.”
Before he can protest further, she claps her hands again and starts ushering them toward the door. Logan leans down and presses a kiss to her lips, murmuring something that makes her grin, before he turns and strolls out—completely unbothered.
Trey lingers in the doorway, glancing back at me with that wicked glint in his eyes. He steps close enough that I can feel the warmth rolling off him, dips his head slightly, and whisper-shouts,
“Blink twice if you want me to get you out of here. Right now.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. It feels strange and free and foreign, bubbling up from somewhere I thought had long been buried.
Mac doesn’t miss a beat—she smacks him lightly across the back of the head.
“Go!”
He chuckles, rubbing the spot, then shoots me a grin over his shoulder as he finally disappears down the hall. The door clicks shut behind him, and suddenly, it’s quiet. Just Mac and me, sunlight spilling across the room and the soft rustle of fabric as she starts unpacking the dresses.
She looks up at me and smiles—warm, genuine, all bright energy and fierce kindness.
“Alright, Sera,” she says softly, “let’s make you a bride.”