Chapter 13 Amy
AMY
The second I'm out of Hope's room, I pull out my phone. Six hours… six fucking hours to pull off a miracle. My hands are steady as I scroll through my contacts. Years of handling Hope's crises have trained me for this, though I'll admit, this is a new level of disaster, even for us.
First up, Frost. I hold the phone up to my ear and wait.
He picks up on the second ring. “Amy? Everything okay?”
“No,” I say, not beating around the bush. “We've got problems. Big ones.”
“What kind of problems?”
I head down the stairs, keeping my voice low.
“The bridal shop sent the wrong dress home with Hope.
She's got some hideous pink bridesmaid nightmare instead of her wedding dress.
The storm has destroyed the outdoor venue.
The tent's got a massive hole, everything's soaked, and all the decorations are ruined. Also, the pastor called in sick with the flu.”
“Fuck.” The word comes out sharp, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. “What are we going to do?”
“Leave it to me,” I say, pushing through the front door into the rain. It's lighter now, but still steady. “I need you to get over to Hope's parents' house right now.”
“Why? Wha—”
“Your fiancée is losing her shit, Frost. She's upstairs crying, convinced the wedding is cursed, and she needs you. So, get your ass over here, and be there for her while I fix this mess.”
There's a pause. “I'm on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Good.” I unlock my car and slide into the driver's seat. “And Frost? Don't let her spiral. Keep her calm. I've got this.”
“You sure?”
“Have I ever let her down?”
“No,” he admits. “Never.”
“Then trust me.” I end the call before he can respond.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel to think of another plan of action. Hope’ll be taken care of. Now I need a venue, dress, and an officiant. I scroll through the contacts on my phone.
Vegas! Of course, why didn’t I think of him sooner?
I’m so thankful we exchanged information as I hit the green button. The Saints Outlaws’ president picks up on the first ring, his voice gravelly.
“Amy? Little early for a social call.”
“This isn't social.” I start the car, and the wipers clear the windshield. “I need help. Hope and Frost's wedding is in six hours, and everything's gone to shit.”
“Talk to me,” he says, suddenly alert.
I fill him in on the dress, the venue, and the pastor. Every word comes out clipped and efficient because I don't have time to waste on emotion right now. When I finish, there's a beat of silence.
“Bring them to the clubhouse.”
I blink. “What?”
“Our clubhouse. We've got the space. We can use the main room for the ceremony, and the back area for the reception. It's not fancy, but it's dry, and it's big enough. I'll get the boys from both clubs to help set up. We can make it work.”
Relief floods through me so fast I almost laugh. “Vegas.”
“Not done yet,” he interrupts. “About the dress. There's a boutique on Paradise Road, Sinfully Yours. Owner's name is Sofia. She's a friend of the club and owes me a favor. Tell her I sent you. You might not find a traditional bridal gown, but I guarantee she'll have something that'll work.”
I'm already pulling up directions on my phone. “Who can we get to officiate?”
“House is a chaplain and ordained to perform marriages,” Vegas says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. “He did it years ago, just in case any of us were stupid enough to settle down." He chuckles. “He’ll do it.”
My throat tightens. “You'd do all this for them?”
“Hope and Frost are family,” he says simply. “We take care of family. Now, get moving, you've got a wedding to save.”
“Thank you.” The words feel inadequate, but they're all I've got. “Seriously, Vegas, I owe you one. Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet. Just get that dress and get back here. We'll handle the rest.”
He hangs up, and I sit there for a moment, phone in my hand, while the rain drums on the roof. Six hours to pull this off. A destroyed venue, a missing dress, a sick pastor… sounds like the beginning of a joke. One I hope we can laugh about it someday.
Hope wanted a miracle, and we got one. I’ve got a place to host a wedding and reception, a boutique to get Hope a dress, and an MC brother who is an ordained minister. I can work with this. I pull out of the driveway, tires splashing through puddles, and head toward Las Vegas.
Hope's getting married today, I don't care what it takes. I'm going to make this happen because that's what best friends do. We show up, fix things, and make miracles happen when the world tries to fall apart.
Nobody, not a shitty florist, not a wrong dress, not a storm, not even the universe itself, is going to ruin my best friend's wedding day.
Not on my watch.