CHAPTER 1
AVRIL
A magazinewith floral decor shouldn’t have been the one thing that changedeverything,but hey, sometimes life is crazy like that.
I held ‘Spill the Tea,’ the New Oxford gossip magazine open to the third article, clutching the pages in a white-knuckled grip, barely able to look away from a sight that was enough to send me into this negative spiral.
It was a floral arch, but it wasn’t about the flowers.Obviously.It was a celebrity wedding with the exact same wedding arch, using the exact same arrangement I’d planned since before I was ten years old—royal purple wisteria.
I’d had this vision for my wedding almost since I was in single digits, and it didn’t matter.Everyonewho wasanyonewas going to start using it. It didn’t matter that I’d planned this first. It didn’t matter that when I had spentyearspicturing the perfect wedding; I was always standing under an archway with royal-purple wisteria.
But, now?
I didn’t know.
There it was,my vision,plastered on a magazine page for everyone to see. For everyone to copy until it didn’t feelmagical at all anymore—until they were just the go-to floral arrangement.
It was okay; the wedding was still a little over half a year away… after just about a year of planning everything. It was all coming down to the final details now. There was plenty of time to toss out the wisteria like yesterday’s trash, and order something new and original. But did I want to?
For a moment, I closed my eyes and pictured it… the perfect wedding day. The fluttering vibrato and silvery melody of the violin and cello… My fairytale wedding dress—a ballgown of cascading tulle and lace applique dripping with crystals on the bodice. For makeup, I’d go with subtle warm tones with just a touch of shimmery gold to highlight my blue eyes. My dark honey locks, carefully coiffed into delicate waves…
It was perfect enough to make all my dads cry as they walked me down the grand aisle, as they led me to the very spot where I was supposed to declare my love in front of everyone important in my life. Right where I would say my vows, threading through the delicate trellis…
All I could picture was the royal purple wisteria.
I was spiraling. This was all a mess. Was I overreacting? Obviously not; this was my dream wedding at stake. This was the day—my day—the one day in my life where I got to dress like a princess, and show everyone important in my life the man I’d chosen, the future unfolding for me.
After all the spreadsheets and the calls and the reservations, I wasn’t about to let my dream wedding turn into somethingbasicandboring.
After all the logistical hoops I had to jump through to plan everything…
Do you think that it’s easy to plan an event around three omega sister’s heat cycles? To plan this event early enough into my moms’ pregnancies that neither of them would be closeenough to pop… or far enough after their pregnancies that they wouldn’t be completely distracted by newborn babies?
There was one person who I knew could help snap me right out of my funk, and I was heading his way right now.
I was really lucky to have met Dylan when I did. It was like the two of us were made for one another. We were just so similar—born into pack families with an army of siblings. Dylan knew the drill. I didn’t have to explain to him what it was like.
In a family of alphas and omegas, I was the beta.
Just the middle child, surrounded by brothers who’d grown into elite alphas and omega sisters who’d perfumed into exquisite beauties.
I love my family. I really do. But it seemed like everyone else had a special designation. It was easy to feel like there was something missing with me. That I was meant for somethingmorethan this. But biology didn’t care about my feelings.
It was fine.
Now,the two of us had found each other. Dylan was the only son of the Kingston-Storm pack who hadn’t ended up as an alpha—he was the only beta in his family, just like me.
More than that, Dylan always knew exactly what I needed to hear to talk me off the ledge when things were rough. He would know exactly what to do about the whole purple wisteria disaster.
He wouldn’t be expecting me for a few hours—I’d told him that I needed to invest some more time into the seating arrangements—but obviously this was more important.
Anyway, I knew exactly where to find him. Dylan had already texted that I should meet up at his place as soon as I was done and that he would order takeaway for us both.
I got to his place—a walk-up apartment close to my favorite stores downtown, and let myself in using the key he’d given me half a year ago.
As soon as I stepped into the apartment, I noticed designer women’s heels on the shoe rack. Fancy ones, with the red bottoms. Which was weird. Dylan was one of those guys who insisted that people take off their shoes at the front door. But obviously he didn’t wear women’s shoes, and they weren’t mine. So why were they here? Did he pick up new shoes for me and then leave them at the entrance?
I shook my head. Whatever, I didn’t have time to think about it. I was here to figure out this whole decor situation. Screw the mystery shoes.
