Chapter 1
BEA
“You’re getting married?!”
Violet snaps the door shut behind her and shushes at me to keep my voice down.
Unlikely, given that she casually dropped that exciting piece of information when I caught her slipping a massive amethyst and diamond ring into her purse in the hallway five seconds ago.
I look around the bathroom she unceremoniously shuttled me into, momentarily impressed by the antique copper finishes.
“Yes, I’m getting married.” Violet’s smile is so big it makes my cheeks hurt when I look at it.
I don’t ignore the stab of longing that comes with her happiness, but I don’t let it dim the moment.
I’m more thrilled for her than sad for myself, so I wrap my arms around her in a congratulatory hug.
She squeezes me back, harder than necessary but exactly what I need.
“Crosby asked me this morning, that’s why I hadn’t told you yet. The news is only a few hours old.”
“This morning? How?” I pull back, my eyebrows shooting up my forehead.
The last time Crosby and I talked about his plan to ask Violet, it did not include the morning of a friend’s baby shower.
I cling to my confusion, hoping it further sells my surprise.
“That’s not what I would have expected from him. ”
Violet just shrugs, a dreamy lift at the corner of her mouth where the megawatt smile has faded while she recounts the proposal.
She steps back to lean against the vanity counter.
“It’s a little unusual—I definitely would have thought he’d go a little more romantic: dinner, flowers, that kind of thing.
But there was something also so uniquely Crosby about asking me because he couldn’t wait for that specially planned moment.
I was just lazing around in bed, and he dropped to one knee beside me. ”
“Well, the man is completely gone for you. It somehow makes sense,” I reason, knowing I’m still going to take the piss out of him later for failing to follow through on his elaborate plan. “It makes for a good story.”
“I just wish I’d been able to brush my teeth first!” she grumps, turning toward the mirror to check her hair. I wrinkle my nose, catching her eye in our reflection before we both dissolve into giggles.
I set a hand over hers on the cool granite, squeezing it in support. “I’m so happy for you, Petal. You deserve all of the best that man is going to give you.”
My vision goes a little watery as we both tear up.
My best friend is getting her happily-ever-after.
I scoop her into my arms for another hug, tucking her head under my chin.
At five foot six, I’m her height but wearing taller heels.
I like that the extra boost reaffirms the older-sister/younger-sister dynamic we have.
With her arms wrapped around my middle, she sniffles before heaving a sigh.
“We can’t tell anyone yet,” she says. “Today is about Allison and Henri. That’s why I was hiding my ring. Their baby shower should be all about them. And Baby Texier, too.”
“Of course,” I reply. I back up, giving us a once-over in the mirror. Content that makeup is still in place, and my curly hair isn’t in any more of a disarray than usual. “Today is for babies. Tomorrow is for brides.”
Violet gives me one more smile in the mirror, the light in her blue eyes dancing with possibility, a vibrant and wonderful future.
I nod before giving her a gentle push to the door, swallowing down a hollowness I can’t spare the time to examine too closely right now.
We step into the hallway to calls of our names from the living room, the mother-to-be waddling into view.
“The caterers are here, and I need some help picking out a dress. Henri just says, ‘wear whatever you’re comfortable in.’” Allison Texier, wife of The New Haven Midnight’s former captain, is wrapped in a white, fluffy robe that must be stifling at eight months pregnant, even in the air conditioning.
“What the man doesn’t seem to understand is nothing is comfortable at this point, except floating in a pool naked, and I don’t think that’s going to go over well with the guests. Help.”
“Do you want food or fashion?” Violet asks as we share a sympathetic smile.
In the nearly four months since I quit my job in London, moved across the ocean, and started working for The Midnight organization, Allison has become a close friend.
There’s something about wives and girlfriends of sports players that makes it easy to fit in, even if I’m not attached to any of them.
Being WAG-adjacent was enough to embrace me and help me navigate the crazy world of professional sports.
“I’ll take food,” I tell her, walking over to Allison.
She looks beautiful already, but I know how important today must feel.
Her husband retired at the end of last season, despite potentially being able to continue playing, just to be home with her and their unborn child.
Henri’s a great guy, and he’ll make an even better dad because he dotes on his wife with an ease I admire.
It takes one look when he’s staring at her from across the room to know that she is his entire world.
Giving her a quick hug around her shoulders, I whisper, “Today’s going to be a great day, Alli. Don’t worry.”
With Allison and Violet making their way to the stairs, I keep moving through the large but lived-in open-concept living space to the patio door.
The back garden has been transformed from a lovely, well-kept yard to an entertaining wonder.
There’s the covered patio off the back door that houses a large built-in grill and island to the left, and an inviting lounge area to the right.
The squishy, oversized outdoor couches face inward for conversation in front of a massive gas fireplace and giant flatscreen television above it.
There’s no need for either to be switched on today, so the hearth has been transformed into a place for guests to pick up thank-you gift bags Violet and I spent the last few nights assembling.
The soft, leaf-green rectangles are perfectly lined up, frothy peaks of cream tissue paper topping them.
Carrying the theme’s colors throughout the rest of the space, the redwood pergola in the back corner has been draped with delicate swaths of fabric that are blowing in the cool breeze, offering gauzy patches of shade.
The grass has been transformed into a dining area with comfortable clusters of mismatched rustic chairs and square farmhouse tables.
The linens have been kept to a minimum, but table runners of Italian Ruscus ribbon along the centers, intermixed with small pops of white anemone flowers or clusters of jasmine.
It’s charming and warm without being over the top. A perfect August afternoon party.
At the end of a flagstone path opposite the pergola, a crew is setting up life-sized Jenga, beanbag toss, and a chess set.
Large taupe umbrellas are scattered around, shading the line of tables, where the caterers are currently installing their chafing dishes, plates, cutlery, and beverages.
I check in with the manager, but all is in hand, like I suspected it would be.
Allison asked Violet and me to help with the party, but by the time we had our first meetup to discuss details, it was all done.
We’ve really just been here as moral support and to point various companies where to go.
I do one more loop around the yard, checking that the large calendar, where guests can fill in their guesses for Baby Texier’s arrival and other stats, is properly anchored to the easel, and there are enough pens.
As I step back under the roof of the patio, my phone chirps from the pocket of my blush-colored party dress.
I have to dig a little through the pleats of the flowy, A-line skirt that flares out from my hips before hitting mid-calf.
After extracting the device that continues to alert me to the incoming call, I stare at the unwelcome name before declining it.
“Fuck off.” I sigh, putting the phone on silent and slipping it back into my pocket.
“We were invited, but we’re early. Sorry.”
I practically leap out of my wedge sandals when I turn to see Nikita Baladin and his daughter, Natalia, standing at the corner of the house.
I wince and try to offer an apologetic smile.
Allison left instructions for the guests to arrive by way of the side gate, and a quick glance at my watch tells me The Midnight’s imposing goalie is, in fact, early.
He doesn’t offer any further explanation, just looks devastatingly handsome in his navy slacks and sage-green linen button-down.
The sleeves have been rolled up to the elbows, showing off his muscled forearms. With short, messy blond strands in perfect disarray and striking blue eyes, I find my breathing hitch for a different reason.
At his side in her peach-colored maxi dress, Natalia breaks loose from holding her father’s hand.
It takes less than a second after I smile at her for her to cross to me, a sweet and small flicker on her lips.
“Bea!” She skips the last few steps before throwing her arms around my hips in a strong hug.
I slide an arm around her shoulders, holding her to me for a moment before running a hand down her caramel-colored tresses.
The five-year-old tilts her head up at me, letting the weight cradle in my hand, a bright, toothy grin stretched across her face.
I can’t help but give her another smile in return, my eyes snagging on the gap in her mouth.
“Where did that tooth go, Nat?” I ask, stepping back to crouch in front of her, examining the empty space her lower front tooth used to occupy. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to be Gus.”
Natalia giggles, angling her head to show off the missing tooth proudly. “Mine grows back.”