Darkmoon(103)

“Just fine,” I told her. “I was just climbing into these torture devices that Sydney insisted I had to have.”

“Hey, they’re totally hot,” she protested. “It’s okay to suffer a little for fashion.”

“I’ll remember to tell you that when you’re six months pregnant and your feet are starting to swell up.” Since I’d been practicing walking in the strappy sandals, at least I didn’t wobble as I took a few experimental steps, then turned. “Everything looking okay?”

“You’re beautiful,” Mason said sincerely. “Connor’s eyes are going to pop out of his head.”

“Well, I hope they stay where they are, but thanks.”

She grinned, and Carla added, “So can I tell them we’re go for launch?”

“Yes,” I told her. “I’m ready.”

At least, I thought I was. Oh, I wanted to be married to Connor, no question about that. But part of me had thought it might have been easier for us to simply go to the courthouse and make things official in a much more subdued way. He wouldn’t hear of that, though, saying that weddings were a big deal in his family and that people would feel cheated if they couldn’t see us get married. Whatever lingering suspicions some of the Wilcoxes might have harbored concerning Connor’s and my connection pretty much evaporated once word got out that I had broken the curse. And the discovery that my father was the long-lost Andre Wilcox probably didn’t hurt, either.

It was a little tougher on the McAllister side, but people were gradually accepting the situation. That was all I could really ask for; the prejudices of generations couldn’t be put aside in a day. I had, however, informed Margot Emory of the truth of the situation, and, true to form, she hadn’t really apologized for the misinformation she’d given me, but only tilted her head to one side, gave me a tight-lipped smile, and said, “Oh, so that’s what really happened? How…romantic.” And the way she said “romantic” made it sound just the opposite.

Well, she hadn’t been there, and I wasn’t going to bother trying to change how she viewed the matter. The important thing was that she’d spoken with the other elders, and they’d agreed — if somewhat grudgingly — that they would take down the wards that had been protecting Jerome from any Wilcox incursions. A small step, but one I appreciated. The last thing I’d wanted was Mason and Carla to get zapped when they were coming over to look at bridesmaids’ dresses.

Now Syd went over to the door of the suite I was using for a dressing room and cracked it an inch. “Looks like everyone’s seated, pretty much. I’ll go give Rachel the signal.” She slipped out and disappeared around a corner, while Mason went over to the suite’s mini-fridge and extracted a bottle of water. “Do you want one, Angela?”

“Better not. Sydney will kill me if I mess up this lipstick.”

She smiled and cracked the lid on the bottle, sipping at the water before sealing it again. I could understand her wanting to stay hydrated; now that it was mid-September, temperatures were starting to drop somewhat, but it was still fairly warm outside.

The door opened, and Sydney stuck her head inside. “Okay, we’re really ready. So everyone get their game face on!”

They didn’t exactly plaster on beauty-queen smiles, but both Carla and Mason perked up a bit, then went to retrieve their bouquets from where they’d been sitting on top of the dresser. Sydney came into the room and got hers, then handed me mine.

I grasped the bundle of snow white and pale pink peonies, fingers tightening around the tightly bound stems. This was really it.

“You’re going to be fine,” she murmured. “You look amazing, and you couldn’t have ordered a more perfect day. Or did Adam have something to do with that?”

As a matter of fact, he had, but I thought it better to let that go for now. I just gave her what I hoped was an enigmatic smile and said, “No comment.”

“That’s what I thought. Okay, Cinderella, time to go.”

I had to laugh at that, and followed her and the other two girls out of the room. They all went on ahead of me, but I paused at the tall hedge that separated the garden area where the ceremony was being held from the rooms at the hilltop hotel.

“Angela.”

I turned at my father’s voice, and had to pull in a deep breath at the sight of him standing there in a gray suit, his hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He looked so handsome…and happy. Then again, he had every reason to be. He’d been reunited with Marie, and had moved in with her. They hadn’t talked much about marriage, maybe not wanting to overshadow Connor’s and my nuptials. Or maybe they knew that, after their long separation, they didn’t need a piece of paper to tell them that they’d never leave one another’s side again. And I won’t say that Connor didn’t tease me from time to time about having Marie as the equivalent of a stepmother, but I found I didn’t mind so much. Like a lot of other people, she’d mellowed a good deal over the past few months.