Chapter 8 #2
Hope flickers in my chest. “You really think we can pull this off?”
“Hell yes, we can.” She grins. “And you know who else can help… your mom.”
“My mom?”
“Call her. Right now.”
I glance around the table, but no one is really paying attention to our hushed conversation. I grab my purse and walk into the hallway to make the call.
Mom answers on the second ring. “Hope! Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I say, glancing back into the dining room. Most of the brothers are deep in their own conversations, but Frost is watching me now, his expression unreadable. “Mom, I need your help.”
“Of course, what's wrong?”
I explain the florist situation as quickly as I can, and by the time I'm done, she's already making plans.
“I'll meet you at the craft store,” she says firmly. “Text me the address. Amy’s right, we'll get this done, Hope. Don't you worry.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“That's what I'm here for. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and march back over and take my seat next to Amy. I lean in and whisper, “She's in.”
“Perfect.” Amy stands, draining the last of her coffee. “Let's go. The sooner we get started, the sooner we get done and can head over to the party.”
I stand with her and glance over at Frost. He's still watching me, but there's something distant in his gaze. Something I can't quite put my finger on.
“I have to go run an errand with Amy and my mom,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “I'll meet you at the clubhouse tonight for the party, okay?”
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
“You gonna rest or take a nap?” I suggest. “You still seem pretty out of it.”
“Probably.”
I move around the table and lean down to kiss him. His lips are warm, but the kiss feels... off. Like he's going through the motions.
I pull back, searching his face. “You sure you're okay?”
“I'm fine, Hope.” His voice is steady, but his eyes are guarded. “Go on. Do what you need to do. I’ll see you tonight.”
I hesitate, my hand resting on his shoulder. “If you need anything…”
“Plenty of brothers here to help me, I'll be fine.”
There's a finality in his tone that makes me step back. “Okay,” I say softly. “I'll see you tonight.”
He nods again, and I turn away to follow Amy toward the exit.
Before we leave, I glance back one more time.
Frost is staring down at his coffee, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense.
He looks like a man carrying the weight of the world.
I tell myself it's just the food poisoning and exhaustion.
Deep down, a nagging voice whispers that something more is going on.
I push the thought away and follow Amy out the door. I’ll get down to the bottom of that later. Right now, I have flowers to fix. Everything else will have to wait.
Maybe I should tell him about the florist?
No, men don’t care about things like that. I’ll deal with it and give him time to feel better.
Three hours later, I'm elbow-deep in silk flowers, hot glue, and ribbon. Honestly, I'm having the time of my life.
“Pass me the wire cutters,” Mom says, holding a stem between her fingers.
I hand them over, watching as she expertly trims the excess, obviously in her element. I’ve never seen her this focused or precise unless she’s decorating for one of her extravagant dinner parties. I giggle when her tongue pokes out slightly, the way it always does when she's really concentrating.
Amy's across the table, wrapping ivory ribbon around a bouquet stem with surprising skill. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is actually kind of fun.”
“Right?” I grin, adjusting a lily into place. “Who knew we'd be building our own bouquets days before I’m supposed to walk down the aisle?”
“Better than panicking,” Mom says, glancing up with a smile. “These are turning out beautifully.”
She's right. The bouquets are gorgeous, with ivory and champagne silk roses, stargazer lilies, and a delicate spray of baby's breath. They look romantic and timeless, possibly better than what the florist would have delivered. Plus, they won’t wither away and die. I can keep them forever.
“These were made with love,” I say softly, running my fingers over the petals. “The originals would've just been... flowers.”
Mom's eyes glisten. “That's exactly right, sweetheart.”
Amy holds up her finished bouquet, tilting her head. “Not bad for a girl who usually solves problems with Big Lil’.”
I laugh. “You're multi-talented.”
“Damn right I am.”
We work in comfortable silence for a while.
The only sounds are those of the snip of scissors and the rustle of ribbon.
For a moment, I forget about the food poisoning, the stress, and the weird distance I felt from Frost this morning.
This, right here, is what matters. Family…
Love… And the people who show up when things go sideways.
“Okay,” Mom announces, stepping back to survey our work. “I think we're done.”
I look at the table. Two bouquets, mine and Amy's, and boutonnieres for Frost and Chaos. Plus flowers to hang on the tulle for the altar.
“They're beautiful,” I whisper.
“They really are,” Amy agrees.
Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We did good, girls.”
My throat tightens. “We did good.”
She pulls me into a hug, and I breathe in her familiar scent of lavender and vanilla.
“I'm so proud of you,” she murmurs. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”
I blink back tears. “Thanks, Mom.”
When we pull apart, she's smiling, but there's a hint of sadness in her eyes. The kind that comes with watching your daughter grow up.
“Alright,” she says, brushing her hands on her jeans. “You two should get going. Get ready for tonight.”
“You're not coming to the clubhouse?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I've got more wedding prep to handle. Final touches on the reception, confirming the caterer, and making sure your dad has his speech prepared.”
I laugh. “Good call.”
She looks between me and Amy. “Have fun. Be safe, and don't do anything I wouldn't do.”
Amy grins. “That leaves a lot of room for interpretation.”
Mom points at her. “Behave.”
“No promises,” Amy singsongs.
Mom pulls me into one more hug, holding me tight. “I love you, sweetheart. The wedding will be perfect.”
“I love you too, Mom,” I squeeze her tight. “Thank you for all your help.”
She kisses my cheek, then steps back, waving us toward the door. “Go… Shoo. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Amy and I carefully gather the bouquets, load them into boxes, and head out to the car. As we drive back to the hotel, I glance at the flowers in the backseat and smile. Crisis averted. Now, to get into the party mood.
When we get back to the hotel, the room is empty. I check my phone, but I don’t have any messages. I try to ignore the small twist in my chest. Frost didn't text me at all today, but to be fair, I was so busy I didn’t text him either. He’s probably still trying to recover from last night.
“Alright,” Amy says, clapping her hands together. “We're gonna look so hot tonight, Frost won't know what hit him.”
I laugh, shaking off the unease. “You're right. Let's do this.”
We blast music from Amy's phone and dive into getting ready. Amy does my makeup first, her hands steady as she lines my eyes with a smoky wing and brushes highlighter across my cheekbones.
“You're glowing,” she says, stepping back to admire her work.
I look in the mirror and gasp. She's right. My eyes look bigger, brighter, and my skin looks dewy and radiant.
“Your turn,” I say, grabbing the makeup bag.
I do Amy's makeup with bold red lips and dramatic lashes. When she looks in the mirror, she grins. “Damn. We're good.”
“We really are.”
I slip into a black bodycon dress that hugs every curve. It's short and hangs right above mid-thigh with long sleeves and a low-cut neckline that shows just enough cleavage to be sexy without being over-the-top. I pair it with strappy black heels and delicate gold jewelry.
Amy goes for a deep emerald green dress with a halter neckline and an open back. It's stunning against her skin, and she pairs it with nude heels and gold hoop earrings. We stand side by side in front of the mirror, and I can't help but smile.
“We look amazing,” I say.
“Hell yeah, we do.” Amy pulls out her phone. “Selfie time.”
We pose with our arms around each other, smiling wide as she snaps a few photos.
“Perfect,” she says, scrolling through them. “Ready?”
I grab my clutch and double-check I have my phone, lipstick, and ID. Taking a deep breath, I glance at myself one more time in the mirror. “Ready,” I say.
As we drive toward Saints Outlaws, the city lights blur past the window, and a flutter of excitement bursts in my chest. Underneath it, though, there's still that nagging feeling with the way Frost looked at me this morning.
I push it down. Tonight is about celebrating us.
Whatever's bothering him, we'll figure it out.
The clubhouse comes into view as we come over the hill. Motorcycles are lined up outside, and we can hear the music thumping from within as we pull into the lot. Amy parks, and we step out, the cool air brushing against my skin.
“Time to party,” she says, linking her arm through mine.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Time to party.”