Chapter 84: The Garden with Chairs
The lemonade was sweet and tart on her tongue, condensation dripping onto her fingers. Aurora watched a bead of water trace a path down the side of the glass, following its meandering course until it disappeared onto the wrought-iron table. The patio was quiet for a Saturday afternoon, just the lazy buzz of bees in the jasmine and the far-off shriek of a kid playing in a nearby yard.“So medium-sized outdoor. Which is code for ‘Rhys won’t settle for less than fifty people,’” Rina said, leaning back in her wicker chair. She took a long sip of her iced tea, her keen eyes watching Aurora over the rim.“I’m shocked.Pleasantly shocked. I thought he’d want a stadium.”
Aurora smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He just… wants it to be real. To have people see.” She fidgeted with her napkin, folding the corner into a tiny, sharp point. “It feels different when he says it.Not like showing off. Like… an announcement.”
“It is an announcement.” Rina set her glass down with a soft clink. “That’s what a wedding is, kid. He’s right.” She paused, her expression softening. “You look different. Calmer. Your scent’s… settled.”
“It feels settled.” Aurora’s voice was quiet, full of a wonder she still couldn’t fully articulate. The bond was a warm, constant presence in her chest, a tether that felt like home. The bond mark on her neck pulses in awareness. “It’s like I spent my whole life holding my breath and now I can finally let it out.”
Rina nodded, her gaze drifting to the climbing vines on the patio fence. A silence stretched between them, comfortable but charged with something unspoken.The laughter from the neighboring yard faded away.
“Rina?” Aurora’s fingers stilled on the napkin.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I need to ask you something.” Aurora’s heart started a slow, heavy thump against her ribs. This was important in a way that felt seismic, a shifting of plates deep beneath the surface of their friendship.
Rina turned her full attention back, a small, knowing smile on her lips. “Ask.”
Aurora took a shaky breath.“Will you be my maid of honor?”
The words hung in the warm air between them. Rina’s smile didn’t fade, but her eyes glistened suddenly, too bright. She blinked rapidly, looking down at her hands which were now clasped tightly together on the table. “Oh.”
“You’ve been my… everything,” Aurora rushed on, the words tumbling out in a soft, earnest flood. “You picked me up when I was a mess after my parents… you let me cry on your couch for weeks. You taught me how to file taxes, for god’s sake. You were my alpha before I even knew what needing one felt like.” Her own vision blurred.“I can’t imagine walking towards him without you right there behind me. Holding me up.”
Rina let out a wet, shaky laugh, swiping at her cheek with the back of her hand. “Damn it, Aurora. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” Rina gestured at her own face, a mock-fierce scowl crumbling into more emotion. “I’m so happy for you. So fucking happy it hurts. He’s a good man. He sees you. He protects that soft heart of yours instead of mocking it.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “But it’s change. And change is a bastard sometimes.”
Aurora felt a sharp pang of understanding. “You think I won’t need you anymore.”
“No.” Rina said it firmly, reaching across the table to grab Aurora’s hand. Her grip was strong, familiar. “I know you’ll always need me. I’m your best friend. That’s not going anywhere. It’s just… the needing will be different. The first calls you make. The middle-of-the-night panic will go to him now. As it should.” She squeezed Aurora’s fingers. “It’s just an old wolf being possessive of her favorite person. Let me wallow for a second.”
Tears spilled over Aurora’s cheeks. She didn’t try to stop them. “You’ll always be first, Rina. In every way that counts. Before any alpha, you were my family. You are my family. That doesn’t get replaced. It gets… added to.”
Rina held her gaze, her expression shifting through pride, sadness, and a fierce, unwavering love. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice thick. “Okay, you gorgeous, sentimental wreck. Yes. I will be your maid of honor. I will harass you about centerpieces and hold your hair back if you get too drunk at the bachelorette and I will absolutely cry like a baby when you say your vows.”
Aurora let out a sob that was half-laughter, half-relief. She shoved her chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the patio stones, and practically launched herself around the table. Rina stood just in time to catch her, the two of them clinging together in a tight, swaying hug under the dappled sunlight. Aurora buried her face in Rina’s shoulder, smelling her familiar citrus-and-sage scent, feeling the sturdy, reliable strength of her.
“I won’t ever let you go,” Aurora mumbled into her shirt, her arms locked around Rina’s waist. “You’re stuck with me.”
Rina rested her cheek on top of Aurora’s head, her own tears soaking into the blonde hair. “I’m holding you to that.” She gave one final, crushing squeeze before loosening her grip, holding Aurora back at arm’s length.“Now sit down and finish your lemonade. We have a venue to pick. And I refuse to let you choose anything with tacky fairy lights.”