Chapter 39
HARLOW
The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked like a stranger.
She wore a white mid-thigh A-line satin dress with a scoop neckline and an open back.
I bought it months ago on a whim and never found the occasion.
My hair fell in soft waves that brushed my shoulders.
The makeup was simple: mascara, lip gloss, a little blush to hide how pale I’d gone in the past hour.
I looked like a bride.
I felt like a fraud.
Two days in Vegas. Two days of cheap champagne and wandering the Strip, pretending this was exactly what we wanted. That eloping in secret was romantic. Spontaneous. Perfectly us.
And it was.
So why did my chest feel like someone had filled it with concrete?
I pressed my palm flat against my sternum. The pressure didn’t ease. Somewhere below Owen was waiting.
My phone buzzed against the vanity.
Owen: You ready to become my wife?
A smile tugged at my lips despite everything. I could picture him down there, pacing, probably driving the chapel coordinator insane with his nervous energy. He’d been vibrating with excitement since we landed, like a kid on Christmas morning.
I stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Yes, I wanted to type. Yes, I’m ready. I’ve been ready for years.
But different words appeared on the screen.
Harlow: I love you. I can’t wait to be your wife.
I hit send. Then, before I could stop myself:
Harlow: Are we doing the right thing? Eloping like this?
The three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Appeared again. Disappeared.
My heart stuttered. Owen never hesitated when he texted—he was the kind of person who responded in complete sentences within thirty seconds, no matter what. The fact that he was struggling to find words meant something.
The dots appeared again, lingered, then vanished entirely.
I set the phone down. My hand trembled.
Turning back to the mirror, I studied my reflection. The woman looking back was about to make the biggest decision of her life in a city built on impulsive decisions and neon dreams.
Without her family. Without her sisters. Her best friends.
My eyes burned. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. I’d already done my makeup. I wasn’t about to redo it because I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.
I picked up my phone again, scrolling past Owen’s thread to a different contact.
Syn.
My thumb hovered over the call button. Just tell her. She’s your best friend. She’ll understand. She’ll be happy for you.
But would she? Would any of them understand why we chose to do this alone, why we robbed them of the chance to be there for one of the most important moments of my life?
A knock on the door made me jump so hard I nearly dropped the phone.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Owen? Had he come up instead of waiting? Had my message freaked him out enough that he needed to see me in person?
I crossed the room on unsteady legs and pulled the door open.
Froze.
Syn stood in the hallway, her black hair swept up in an elegant twist I’d never seen her wear. She wore a deep burgundy dress I’d never seen before.
Behind her stood Kaia, glowing despite the exhaustion of new motherhood, wearing soft sage green. In her arms, a long white garment bag.
And beside them both, Cam. Here. In Vegas. Dressed like she was going to a wedding.
I was hallucinating.
“I...” My mouth opened and closed. “What... How...”
“Well?” Cam’s voice cut through my shock, one eyebrow arched. “Are you going to let us in, or are we doing this in the hallway? Because I didn’t fly twelve hours to watch you gape at us like we’re ghosts.”
“We have a wedding to get ready for.” Kaia lifted the garment bag, presenting it like an offering. “And you are not wearing that dress.”
“What’s wrong with this dress?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Syn said, pushing past me without waiting for an invitation, “if you’re going to a cocktail party.
Which you’re not. You’re getting married.
” She spun to face me, hands on her hips.
“To Owen Taylor. In approximately...” she checked her phone, “...two hours. So we need to move.”
Kaia and Cam followed her in. The door swung shut with a decisive click. I stood rooted to the spot, watching them spread out through the hotel room like they owned it.
“How...” I tried again. “How are you here? How did you know?”
Kaia set the garment bag carefully on the bed, smoothing invisible wrinkles. When she turned to face me, her expression had softened into something tender.
“Owen called me.”
“What? When?”
“The night before you flew out. After you fell asleep.” She crossed the room, taking my hands in hers. “He told me everything. Said it didn’t feel right doing it without us.”
My brain was still three steps behind. “He... he called you?”
“He wanted to surprise you.” Kaia squeezed my hands. “He knew you would want us here.”
The tears I’d been fighting spilled over, hot and sudden.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, I wanted to so badly, but we were trying to figure out the timing and Jax was already so angry, and I didn’t want to make it worse and…”
“Stop.” Syn appeared at my side, her hand firm on my shoulder. “Just stop. We don’t care about any of that.”
“She’s right.” Cam leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. “If Owen makes you happy, I want to be here to celebrate that.”
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. “Cam...”
“Don’t get sappy on me yet. Save that for the vows.” But she was smiling, and something that had been knotted tight in my chest finally loosened.
“Wait.” I wiped at my eyes. “Is Jax here? And Trystan?”
The three of them exchanged looks.
“They’re here,” Syn confirmed. “Cam and Trystan got in early this morning. Jax, Kaia, Kailyn, and I flew in last night.”
“But Jax was so angry…”
“He was,” Kaia said carefully. “But last night, after you fell asleep, Owen and Jax talked.” She smiled softly.
“I don’t know everything that was said. But when Jax came back, he told me he understood.
He remembered when it was us, and he was the fuck boy who finally found the girl that made him want to change. ”
“He’s still not thrilled about the whole secret relationship thing,” Syn added. “But he’s here. He’s downstairs right now with Kailyn and Trystan, probably threatening Owen with bodily harm if he ever hurts you. You know, standard big brother stuff.”
I laughed. “That’s so Jax.”
“He loves you,” Kaia said simply. “They both do. Owen and Jax, and they’ll figure out how to be brothers again. It might take time, but they will.”
I nodded.
“Okay.” Syn clapped her hands together, breaking the emotional moment with drill sergeant efficiency. “Enough crying. We have work to do.” She pointed at my face. “That mascara is a disaster. Kaia, you’re on makeup. Cam, figure out her hair. I’m handling the dress.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It just needs... more.” Syn was already unzipping the garment bag.
Kaia appeared with a makeup wipe, gently erasing my ruined mascara. “Just let us take care of you.”
I closed my eyes and let them work.
The next hour blurred. Syn’s running commentary provided constant entertainment. Apparently, the guy she’d mentioned on our last call, Ryat, had been at the house when Owen called with the Vegas news, and his reaction to the chaos had been deeply unhelpful and annoyingly smug.
Kaia caught my eye in the mirror and smiled.
This was what I needed. Not just Owen, but this. My people. My family.
“Done.” Kaia stepped back to admire her handiwork.
I opened my eyes.
The woman in the mirror was still a stranger, but a different stranger now. Her lips were soft pink, matching the flush on her cheeks. Her hair was half-up, half-down, loose curls that looked effortless but had definitely taken Cam forty-five minutes to perfect.
And the dress.
Oh, the dress.
Nothing like the one I’d bought. This was long, floor-length, with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that moved like water.
“Where did you even find this?” I whispered, running my hands down the skirt.
Kaia grinned. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to cry and ruin your makeup.”
“Okay.” I drew out the word, not understanding why I would cry.
“It was Mom’s.”
I stepped closer to the dress, tears already blurring my vision. “Kaia...”
“Don’t start crying again. Seriously. I just fixed your mascara.”
I touched the dress with my fingertips. “How did you…”
“Dad offered it to me when I got married, but I was pregnant, so it didn’t fit. But it will fit you.”
“It’s perfect.” A tear escaped, streaming down my cheek.
“Now you’ll have a piece of Mom here with you today.”
“Thank you.” I barreled forward, hugging her. “This... this is amazing.” I laughed, the sound bright and almost startled. “I love you. All of you. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Where else would we be?” Syn asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re getting married, Harlow. Did you really think we’d let you do that alone?”
The truth was, yes. I’d thought exactly that. I’d convinced myself we had to do this alone, that it was the only way, that including anyone else would somehow diminish what Owen and I had.
But looking at them now, I realized how wrong I’d been.
This wasn’t diminished.
This was complete.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Syn handed me a small bouquet I hadn’t even noticed she’d brought—white roses and baby’s breath, simple and perfect.
“Then let’s go get you married.”
And for the first time all day, the concrete in my chest dissolved into something lighter.
Something that felt a lot like joy.