Chapter 70: 71: The Bachelorette

ARIEL

~Amy could arrive at any moment…~

~And I’m still not ready for her!~

As my best friend’s arrival nears, all the confidence that I previously gained while speaking with Vivian vanishes.

I only have vague ideas for a bachelorette party. And with Dianne being so dismissive of the original plan of strippers, I feel even more out of my depth.

I glance around at the as yet undecorated ballroom. “What do I do?”

“Do about what?” my mother says.

I didn’t realize I was speaking out loud. “Um…”

“Is it the party?”

“Dianne, I’m totally lost…”

“With the decorating? I can help,” Maria says, appearing in the doorway like my fairy goddessmother.

“Me too,” my mother says. “It’s a mother’s job.”

“First things first,” Maria says. “I’ll have the chef bring up the bunting.”

“Bunting?” my mother says. “This isn’t a child’s birthday party.”

“What were you thinking then?”

“A nice big banner to cover up some of these goddess-awful paintings.”

“These ‘goddess-awful paintings’ are family heirlooms.”

I can’t take their bickering. I find myself looking around in want of help again.

Vivian crosses the hall on the other side of the ballroom.

“Wait!” I say.

She turns to walk toward me. “What’s happening?”

“I need you. Please… You’re a party-planning queen, and everything’s falling apart…”

Vivian smiles. “Did you just call me ~the queen~?”

I laugh. “~A~ queen, not ~the~ queen. Now, come on! Please?”

Vivian agrees, and my stress dissipates.

“I’m so sorry to ask,” I say. “I just… I don’t know how to deal with their squabbling right now.”

Vivian bites her lip as she observes Maria and my mother. Their argument has advanced from party decorations to general decor to child-rearing.

~Goddess, help me.~

“Don’t worry,” Vivian says. “I can handle them too.”

I envy her levelheaded demeanor as she makes her way toward the women.

“Hey, Vivian!” I call after her.

“Yeah?” She turns and looks at me.

“I was thinking… You don’t know many people here—d’you wanna come to the bachelorette tonight?”

“I’d love to!” She beams, then resumes her path.

I watch from a safe distance as Vivian uses her two secret weapons of diplomacy and flattery to somehow convince Maria and my mother to form a truce.

I’m more than happy to hang back and allow these three to make the arrangements for Amy’s bachelorette party.

Each of them is more in their element in party-planning mode than I could ever be, and together I imagine they’ll be a force to be reckoned with.

I make excuses to myself for not having a more active involvement in the flurry happening around me. ~I’m a queen. Delegation is part of the deal.~

I’m feeling less stressed now that I have help preparing for Amy’s arrival, but I still feel like there’s an itch I’m not scratching.

As I glance out the window at the sunny weather, it’s clear what it is.

My royal duties have kept me from my warrior training for too long.

I haven’t felt like myself in a while, but I’ll have to pretend everything is great and play host when Amy arrives. She’ll know immediately if something is off with me.

I’m staring out the window now, lost in thought.

~Training this afternoon would do me good…~

~It would relieve stress and prepare me for tonight…~

My fingers twitch at the very idea of wielding a sword again.

Maria, Vivian, and my mother make such a balanced team that I doubt I could add anything beneficial to their arrangements.

As if on cue, I hear the distant shouts of Steve, barking orders to my squad.

~Or am I imagining it?~

I hear it again: Steve’s voice carrying through the open window. He has the voice of a man you should never tell a secret to.

~All right, I’ll do it.~

I decide to sneak off for a bit, promising myself I’ll be back by the time Amy arrives.

I turn on my heel, only to run face-first into Dianne standing with an armful of canvas banners.

“Ariel,” she says, eyeing me up and down. “Thank Goddess. How about you help me hang these?”

I glance around like trapped prey, but there’s no way out.

She grabs me by the arm. Tightly. “Help me pick out some table settings.”

The grunts of the warriors fade away as Dianne pulls me back into the center of the ballroom.

I have a feeling that now, Dianne will watch me like a hawk. Any chance of escaping this dull party planning just disappeared along with my daydream.

“A luna’s work is never done,” Dianne says with a smile.

***

“Biiiiitch! Where are you?”

I hear Amy’s voice before I see her. I drag Alex from his office to join me in greeting our guests.

With the force of a hurricane, Amy blasts through the front entrance of the palace, Marius in tow.

She charges up the staircase right at us and binds me in an impossibly tight hug.

Alex has to steady us before we topple down the stairs.

“I missed you!”

I laugh at the almost frightened expressions of courtiers passing through the hall below as Amy continues to address me so casually.

“Bitch, am I ready to ~party~! I can’t wait to see what you have planned.”

“Just. Let. Me. Breathe,” I say as I manage to wriggle free.

Her hug was so enthusiastic that I have to pull her hair clips from ~my~ hair.

~The sign of a true friend.~

“Should we acknowledge poor Marius too?” Alex asks.

“All right,” Amy says. “But today isn’t really ~about~ Angel.”

Marius makes a face as if offended.

“What? It’s my ~bachelorette~. And, besides, you have your little boys’ night or whatever.”

“My bachelor party?”

“Whatever. I’m sure it’ll be nothing compared to what Ariel has planned for me! Right?”

My stomach drops. “Right…,” I say.

Alex and I greet Marius, and Amy begrudgingly accepts a kiss on the cheek before saying, “Let’s go. I’m so, so ready. This night is going to be wild!”

“Yeah, It’s all set up in the ballroom,” I say confidently. I pray Dianne has everything under control.

Amy raises her eyebrows but only says, “Lead the way, bitch.”

We head down the stairs and Amy strides into the ballroom, taking a look around. I’m trailing behind her, but my wolf is telling me something is wrong. We’re not in danger, but…this isn’t right.

She takes in the “Happy Bachelorette Party, Amy” banner hung above the buffet-style table set up with afternoon tea and finger food.

My best friend looks at me like this is all a big joke.

I try to tell her with my eyes that this wasn’t my idea.

~But is that worse? Not taking responsibility for something she entrusted me with?~

“I...hope you like it. D-Dianne helped.”

It seemed like a good idea at the time to give control over to Vivian, Maria, and Dianne.

I’d seen Dianne coo over the tea sets in the royal kitchen, but I hadn’t thought to ask her about her plans.

The only thing she said was when a girl like Amy settles down, it’s a sign of maturity.

And this party should reflect that maturation.

She then pointed to my own personal growth. She told me she was proud that I was leaving behind my warrior lifestyle in favor of my royal duties.

I knew Dianne would know how to plan a party better than I would, but...

I’m the only one who could’ve planned an ~Amy~ party.

I should have represented Amy’s interests better.

I look at her now, defeated.

“Just who did you plan this party for?” Amy says.

“Well,” I say. “I didn’t really…”

“You didn’t, what? Plan it?”

Amy’s right; this is nothing like her.

I’ve been trying so hard to find the new, regal, me that I’ve forgotten the one person I can always rely on never to change: my best friend.

“Shit,” I say in an attempt to jump to the end of the fight. “You’re right.”

“Damn right, I’m right, bitch.” And this time, the term doesn’t feel endearing.

I need to shoulder the blame. It’s my fault.

It was my job, as maid of honor, to plan the perfect bachelorette party.

“I’m sorry, Amy,” I say. “This is all my fault. I asked the others for help with the planning, but it was my job to make sure tonight was the best night of your life—”

“Second best,” Amy says. She smiles despite herself.

“Right, second best,” I say. “And while I can’t help with tomorrow night, tonight was—and still is—under my control.”

Amy stands in front of me with her arms crossed.

“Please,” I say. “You can be mad at me again after the ceremony if you like... But let’s not have my stupidity ruin tonight for you. I’ll make it up to you and give you the night you deserve.”

Amy uncrosses her arms and unclenches her jaw.

I can see she’s still upset, but she’s clearly trying to put this argument behind us.

“How?” she says, pouting.

“How what?” I say.

“How’re you going to make it up to me?”

I exhale, thinking hard. “I promise I’m going to give you the bachelorette party your heart desires.”

She arches an eyebrow as if daring me to make a stupid suggestion.

I remember a club Dom used to frequent before he met Helena. He tried to invite me along ~several~ times.

~That would be right up Amy’s alley.~

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m taking you to the Full Moon, where you can get all the strippers you want…”

Amy’s face elevates into a mischievous smile.

“On me, of course,” I say. “You’re the bride.”

“That’s more like it!”

I open my arms, tentatively, and Amy jumps into them.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I fucked up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says.

We break our hug, and Amy nods at someone behind me. “You ladies ready?”

I turn my head to see that Maria, Vivian, and my mother have overheard our conversation.

“This is hardly the demure behavior a soon-to-be wife should be engaged in,” Dianne tuts.

“Oh get over yourself,” Maria says with a chuckle. She smiles at me, obviously understanding that what the bride wants, the bride gets.

Dianne looks like she’s been slapped across the face.

“I’m not sure I should…,” Vivian says as a flash of worry crosses her face.

“Come on…sorry, what’s your name?” Amy says, before waving a hand in front of Vivian’s face. “It doesn’t matter, if Ariel invited you here then you’re my friend too!”

“But…my taste in men…isn’t,” Vivian replies, looking away.

“Not an issue,” Amy says. “I’m sure this club has strippers for all shapes, sizes, and people!”

Vivian seems to have brightened up under Amy’s encouragement.

“Okay then,” she says. “Let’s get going!”

“Really though, girls…” Dianne hesitates, but relents under Amy’s pout.

I try not to picture my mother’s face at the strip club as the best of the Royal Pack’s werewolf tail gyrates before her disapproving eyes.

“This is going to be a night to remember!” Amy says.

“Or not to remember,” I say, anticipating Amy’s tolerance for alcohol.

~This isn’t going to be…regal.~