It might be New Year’s Eve—one of my favorite holidays—but I’m uncharacteristically annoyed. For many reasons.
First, camping is really, really boring. As well as sucky.
We spent all day yesterday cooking things over a fire, and chopping wood for said fire (well, Jax chopped and I supervised), and peeing in an outhouse. This was followed by a long night of tossing and turning while owls hooted obnoxiously in the background and I had vivid, disturbing dreams of bears peeping on me whilst I peed. So this morning, I insisted that Jax and I abandon the campsite—and the alarming bag of dehydrated “scambled eggs” he brought—early and drive to civilization for breakfast.
I was beyond thrilled to find a cute little roadside cafe.
And it would’ve been a real mood lifter, except for the fact that I haven’t heard from Seb this morning. Not even a single text through the night. I’m also already finished with my bagel (and tucking into Jax’s untouched one), and I’m now even more bored than before because Jax has barely looked up from his phone.
In fact, he’s been on that thing all morning.
Usually, this wouldn’t be a big deal. But today, I have leaves in my hair and I’m pretty sure a fire ant bit me on the butt. So, let’s just say I’m a little more cranky than normal.
I’m definitely finishing off this wildly chaotic year with a bang… though I’m not sure it’s a great bang.
All I want is to get home, shower, nap, and then get myself all made up for the Cyclones’ NYE party tonight. Which is sure to be a whole lot less boring than this.
“JAX!” I say again, my patience running paper thin. “What’s going on?!”
He lifts his eyes for, like, a millisecond. “Get yourself a second bagel instead of eating mine.”
“Who’re you texting?” I ask through a mouthful of cream cheese. “Is she pretty? Can I meet her?”
I may or may not be asking these questions solely because I know that they’ll get Jax to talk to me out of annoyance. What I don’t expect him to say is, “I’m texting your husband. Who is quite pretty for a man, I guess.”
“WHAT?” I’m double outraged. One, because my other half is talking to my brother while not texting me back, and two, because Sebastian is not pretty—he’s insanely hot.
Jax sets his phone down and levels stormy gray eyes on mine. “Seriously, give me my bagel back. And before you explode, your better half has a surprise for you, and he was just asking for my help.”
“Ooh! Well, why didn’t you say so!” I clap my hands. “Consider my mood lifted. And sorry for eating your bagel,” I add as I cram the last bite in my mouth.
This earns me an eye roll of epic proportions. “You are such a brat. Now, come on. We’ve got an appointment to get to.”
A long drive home followed by an even longer shower later, Jax is shepherding me back into his car like I’m a rogue lamb and he promptly drives us downtown. There’s a lot of squinting at the Maps app—which is open on his phone on his lap—and a series of wrong turns, accompanied by swearing and mutterings of “Slater, you owe me big.”
Finally, we pull up at a nondescript white building with a mint green front door and a gold sign with swirly lettering I can’t quite make out. Jax looks from his phone to the door and back again, and then nods. “Think this is it.”
I open my car door, but then look back at him, still sitting in the driver’s seat with his seatbelt on. “Aren’t you coming?”
My brother laughs and shakes his head. “You’re gonna want your girls for this one.”
“My girls?”
As if in answer, there’s a knock on my window.
I look out to see Stef, Reagan, Chantal, my cousin Bethany, and three of my best friends standing outside the car. They’re holding white and gold balloons, and bottles of champagne.
I’m convinced I’m hallucinating, so I turn to Jax, who smiles broadly. “Oh, and one last thing…”
He holds his phone out to me, and hits Play on a video.
“Mad Dawg!” Dallas Cooper’s face fills the screen. “Seb told us that you love New Year’s. And you love parties. And you love stupid, gushy Hallmark romances. Which I’m willing to overlook, because you’re super cool otherwise.”
“Get to the point, dude!” someone yells off-screen.
Dallas gives the person the middle finger, then turns his eyes back to the camera. “Anyhow, I made this video for you because, apparently, it’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other on their wedding day, which I think is dumb, because these are pre-recorded videos and—”
“Get on with it!”
“Oh-kayyyyy. Jeez. Anyhow, Maddie. My boy Seb was all bummed that you didn’t get a big romantic wedding like you wanted, so we all decided to throw you one. Tonight. Instead of the New Year’s party. Be there or be squa—”
Dallas’s face suddenly disappears and there’s a huge tussle off-screen, coupled with a lot of yelling. I’m still attempting to process what on earth is happening. And then, a new face pops up.
My husband.
The sight of those blue eyes makes my heart leap to my throat.
“Mads.” His voice is soft. “I love you, and I want you to have the romantic wedding you always dreamed of. Tonight seemed like the perfect time to do it… I want to ring in the new year with a celebration of falling in love with you. The guys keep telling me that it’s bad luck if you see me on our wedding day, but I don’t care. We don’t need luck. I already got luckier than I could’ve ever imagined when you became my wife, and now I want you to be my bride, too. So I hope you enjoy every moment of today, and I cannot wait to see you at the altar tonight.”
The video ends, and I look up at Jax in shock. “You knew about this?”
“Briefly.”
“Is this”—I squint at the sign with the swirly lettering above the mint-green door. All my best girl friends are standing, waiting outside—”a wedding dress boutique?”
“Yup.”
I shake my head in absolute wonderment. Sebastian, once again, has gone to every length to make sure that I know he loves me. That I’m cherished.
I’m at a total loss for words, so I just hug my brother. He actually hugs me back.
“Today’s your wedding day, little sister.” Jax’s voice is gruff as he ruffles my hair, and the reality of the moment washes over me. A whole jumble of emotions—excitement and love and anticipation and abject happiness—tangle in my stomach.
“Will you walk me down the aisle?” I ask him, looking up at my brother with a hopeful smile.
“It would be my absolute pleasure.”
His voice cracks slightly on the words. And all at once, I get the sudden and unexpected sense that there may just be hope for his future love life, yet…
“Now, get out there. All those screaming girls are waiting for you.”
So I do. And we have the entire boutique to ourselves, and I feel like I’m in one of those dressing room montages they always show in movies.
My proper, real life, main character Sandra Bullock moment… Finally.
After trying on a few options, I fall in love with a scalloped lace fit n’ flare dress with a dramatic plunging neckline that my mother would hate, but that I love.
Seb’s always said that I have great boobs, and he’s right—the dress fits like a glove and accentuates my curves perfectly. The girls all cheer and hold up signs with “Perfect 10” written on them when I emerge from the fitting room, and I shed a little tear or two when I see my own reflection.
I’m a bride.
Sebastian Slater’s bride.
With the help of my girls, I pick out gorgeous, satin peep toe heels and some teardrop earrings. And when I try to pay for my selections, the lovely store owner assures me that it’s all been taken care of.
A literal dream.
There’s a limo waiting when we get outside, and we’re whisked to a beautiful five-star hotel, where we’re ushered up to a set of grand doors belonging to a suite.
Before we go in, Stef hands me her phone.
This time, it’s Aaron who pops up on the screen. “Hey, Maddie. Uh, I guess, by now, you’ll have your wedding dress… gown? Wait, what’s it called?”
“I dunno, I think either is fine,” I hear Mal say off-screen, right as another voice—which I think is Triple J—yells, “Tell her she better have gotten a cathedral-length veil to go with her dress!”
“What the hell is that?” Aaron demands with a frown.
“Focus, man.” That has to be Dallas, clicking his tongue. “Sheesh. And y’all thought my video was bad.”
On-screen Aaron rolls his eyes. “Uh, anyhow, Seb wanted you to know that he hopes you found the dress—or gown or whatever—of your dreams, and that you feel like a bride. When you’re seeing this video, you should be at the hotel, and if you hear noise from down the hallway, it’s just us guys getting ready in our suite. Seb—well, Jimmy, actually—picked out gray…”
“It’s called charcoal, dumbass,” off-screen Jimmy yells, earning another Aaron eyeroll.
“Fine, charcoal suits, ‘coz he thought you’d like them and they’d match the flowers or something.” He makes a face, his eyes darting to the side as he asks, “Am I done now? Is that it? I’m good?”
He looks back at the camera, his face relieved. “Cool. Well, see ya later, Maddie.”
The video ends, and I’m laugh-crying.
Stef grins and squeezes my arm. “You okay?”
“An entire NHL team planned a surprise wedding for me,” I choke out.
“Wait ‘til you see what’s next…” She opens the door to the suite, and I, quite literally, gasp.
Not only is the suite absolutely stunning, but along one wall is a selection of blush pink bridesmaids dresses arranged on hangers. On the table, there’s a selection of bouquets, made up of—you guessed it—calla lilies and peonies and freesias.
A huge makeup and hair station are set up to the side of the room, with a freaking fleet of makeup artists and hairdressers waiting.
“This is insane!” I squeak.
Reagan laughs. “I wish someone loved me the way that man loves you.”
I’m the luckiest woman alive.
