When I pull back, Tiffany looks soft-eyed and blissful. “How do you do that to me?”

  “Do what?” I ask, fairly sure I already know what she’s talking about because I feel the same way—fuzzy and fizzy all at the same time.

  Tiffany purrs. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

  I chuckle, feeling another part of my body remind me that love is more than just the heart. “Maybe,” I tease, “But I still like hearing it.”

  “You melt me.” She shakes her head gently. “Not just that. You bring down every defense I have, make the whole world disappear, and it’s only you.”

  I trace my lips over her jaw, trailing my way up to whisper in her ear, “Only us.”

  A shiver runs through her, and I smile triumphantly. Meeting her eyes, I expect to see unguarded lust brewing there, but there’s the slightest hint of a storm swirling in their depths. “Tiffany?”

  “Daniel, I . . .” Tiffany says before her voice trails off and she takes a deep breath. “There’s something I need to—”

  Whatever she’s about to say is cut off by Elle and Colton sitting down at the table with us. They’re alone but both grinning. “I think Neve has a new friend. By force,” she says, laughing.

  I look to where she’s pointing to see one of groomsmen on the dance floor holding Neve on his hip with an outstretched arm as he leads her around the floor. Neve is smiling and laughing, wiggling as she tries to dance along with him.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, maybe a little protectively.

  Tiffany pats my arm, reassuring me. “That’s Terrance, one of Ace’s friends. I think he’s the youngest in his family, so he’s got loads of nieces and nephews. He’s in heaven, probably debating with Neve on whether Baby Shark or Cocomelon is the better cartoon.”

  Colton grunts. “Peppa Pig, all the way. At least she’s got a British accent.”

  Elle groans but nods. “Anything besides Frozen. For fuck’s sake, can we let it go into the unknown now?”

  The DJ calls for the single ladies to come to the dance floor. Elle pushes at Tiffany, who tries to brush it off. “It’s fine. I already have a bouquet. Let someone else get one.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not how this works,” Elle says, taking no argument. “You’re not married, you go out there for the bouquet toss.” And then she says the magic words. “I dare you.”

  Tiffany grins at the no-longer-private joke between them and says, “Excuse me for a moment. I got some bitches to snatch flowers from.”

  She stands, putting her napkin on the table. She wobbles a bit as she stands, shaky in her high heels, and I offer a steadying hand. “You okay?” I ask.

  Tiffany lets out a deep sigh, wiggling her hips like she’s uncomfortable. “Yeah, just reminding myself that Spanx are Satan’s undergarments.”

  Tiffany’s solid as she walks out onto the floor to stand next to Terrance, who has Neve on his shoulders. It seems they have a game plan to get the bouquet for Neve, and somehow, I believe they’ll be successful. Neve won’t have it any other way.

  Up front, Harper appears, and the DJ leads the countdown. “Three, two, one . . .”

  Harper takes three practice swings, then lets the bouquet fly. The gathered women all reach for it, and there’s a chorus of squeals, Neve’s highest and loudest of all. So naturally, my eyes are on Neve at first, and I smile at the pure, unadulterated joy on her face.

  But then something grabs my attention.

  Tiffany.

  She’s not reaching for the bouquet. Her arms are hanging loosely at her sides and her face is pale. Confusion pulls my brows together for a split second before morphing into horror as Tiffany’s eyes roll back in her head.

  “Tiffany!” I shout.

  A thread of alarm weaves through the small group in an instant. I’m up and out of my chair, running for her, but it’s not fast enough. Almost bonelessly, she collapses to the floor in a heap, landing hard on her hip before rolling to her back, and I don’t know what’s wrong.

  I fall to my knees beside her, cradling her in my lap. “Tiffany?”

  She’s breathing. That’s my first relief.

  But I don’t know what’s happening.

  Ace takes a knee beside me. “We already called 911. They’re on their way.”

  A guest comes over and gently tells me, “I’m a friend of Harper’s from work. I’m a school nurse. Let me check her out.”

  I give her some room but keep ahold of Tiffany’s left hand. I need to touch her. I need to hold her, even if it’s just her hand.

  I just found you. I can’t lose you. You have to be okay. I love you.

  The nurse does her assessment quickly and efficiently but doesn’t seem to doing anything to actually help Tiffany. “Well?”

  The nurse looks up, her eyes unnaturally calm. “I think she passed out. Has she eaten?”

  I think and glance over at her plate. “She didn’t eat any of her meal. She said she wasn’t hungry. But I don’t know about earlier?” I look to Harper, knowing that Tiffany has been getting ready with her all day. But Harper shakes her head. “Nothing?”

  Tiffany’s mom, Renee, who I’m meeting for the first time today, jumps in. “She told me her stomach was upset earlier. I don’t think she had more than a few crackers while we were getting ready. I thought it was nerves.”

  “Best guess then is she has low blood sugar,” the nurse says. “Everyone, give her some room, and get me something to elevate her feet. And get me one of the kid juice boxes in case she wakes up.”

  People hustle to help, but it’s not a minute or two later that the paramedics come in, rolling a gurney. They quickly get to work, doing the same assessment, asking the same questions. “You’re probably right,” the lead paramedic tells the nurse, “but let’s take her in just in case. Ready?”

  Placing her on the gurney and lifting the bed to the rolling position rouses Tiffany, but she still sounds groggy, her eyes not quite focused. “Wha–What’s happening?”

  “You fainted, Tiffany,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice level and calm. It’s a lot harder than I imagined. “We’re going to get you checked out and make sure everything is okay.”

  Her eyes turn to me when she hears my voice, but she looks unfocused and out of it. “I passed out?” Her hand goes to her stomach. “Oh . . .”

  Her face looks stricken again, and I stroke her arm to try and keep her with me. “Are you going to be sick?”

  She blinks hard and swallows. “No, I–I . . .”

  Ace interrupts her stuttered attempt to say something. He presses a hand to her forehead and gets directly in front of her. “You’re going to be okay, Sis. I got you.”

  He gives her a pointed look I don’t understand, but Tiffany seems relieved by his assurances.

  Meanwhile, the paramedics are done with this. “Okay, folks, let’s roll.”

  Ace leans over to the paramedic, whispering something in his ear. The paramedic nods in acknowledgement, and they start to move.

  Instinctively, I follow and then realize that Renee, Elle, and Ace are walking along too. As they load Tiffany into the ambulance, I meet her mother’s eyes, both of us uncertain. She must see the desperation in my gaze because she concedes. “Take care of her. I’ll meet you there.”

  Ace pulls his mom and Harper into his arms comfortingly and tells me, “We’ll all meet you there.”

  The paramedic clears his throat. “If you’re coming, get in.”

  Giving Ace a nod, I climb in, following their directions on where to sit. They slam the doors and the sirens turn on. I reach for Tiffany’s hand, taking it in mine. Seeing her on the stretcher terrifies me, and I need to touch her, feel her warmth. “Tiffany, you’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

  “Daniel?” She’s still barely semi-conscious, her voice weak and slurred. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the paramedic talking on the radio and hear something about a glucose drip. “Is the baby okay?”

  I blink, everything fading into the background as I gawk at Tiffany. “The what?”

  Chapter 29

  Tiffany

  The darkness is shattered by the sound of a scream, and then half a breath later, a hitching cry that splits through my sleep to wrest me to zombie-like wakefulness.

  “It’s okay, honey, Mommy’s coming,” I slur into the darkness, but before I can get up to get him, Daniel’s hand on my hip stills me.

  He whispers in my ear with a sleep-roughened voice, “I’ve got him. My turn, sweetheart. You stay here.”

  Nodding sleepily, I snuggle into the warmth of the nest we’ve created in our bed, listening through the monitor as Daniel talks to our little boy. “Well now, good morning, big guy. You up with the sun this morning?”

  Almost immediately, the cries turn to happy coos.

  “Well, Daddy loves you too, but first . . . yup, time for a fresh one,” Daniel says, and I faintly hear the sound of Velcro and then the sound of a plastic lid opening then closing. “There we go. All fresh and clean. You want to go see Mommy?”

  A moment later, my two guys appear in the doorway. Daniel smiles, his teeth flashing white amid the scruff of his beard. I used to be most attracted to him when he was slick and shined up, in fancy suits and comfortable in his power. That confident swagger called to me.

  But seeing Daniel with our son, singing silly songs and pretending to nibble his toes, wearing well-earned wrinkles proudly and falling into bed with me with nothing on the to-do list but being together is the sexiest thing I could ever imagine.

  It makes every moment more precious. We curl up on our sides, our feet intertwined, with the baby between us.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” I tell my little guy. He kicks his feet, smiling a toothless smile and reaching for me. I hold out a finger, and he wraps his chubby little fingers around it, holding on to me. “Ooh, so strong. You get that from your daddy?”

  Daniel chuckles. “More likely, his mama.”

  “Charmer,” I tease, though I’m smiling.

  “Just telling the truth. You’re amazing, Tiffany.”

  I look up to meet his gaze, where the depth of his devotion to our family is clear to see. He’s watching me as I watch our baby.

  I reach out, taking his hand. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  We lock eyes, smiling stupidly at our good fortune. I have everything I ever wanted and more. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I close my eyes to catch a little more sleep before the alarm has us start the day, but in the distance, a repetitive beep interrupts my attempts to wring a few more minutes of shuteye out of the gray dawn.

  “What is that?” I ask, annoyed at the disruption.

  Daniel shrugs, continuing to play with the baby. “Ignore it.”

  I try, but it’s too intrusive. I sit up, looking around to find the source of the offending sound. “Stay here. I need to see what that is.”

  I get up, searching around the room, but I don’t find anything. I open the curtains and fall back, my hands going over my eyes as a bright, white light streams through the glass, blinding me. I hiss as I squint sharply.

  “Daniel . . . Daniel!”

  “Tiffany?” Daniel asks, and I feel a soft shaking on my shoulder. “Wake up, baby girl. Wake up.” His voice gets stronger, more commanding. “Open those pretty eyes for me, Tiffany.”

  “Daniel?” I try to blink, but my eyelids are so heavy. Slowly, I force them open and look around. Daniel is sitting in a chair beside me, his frown making the laugh lines around his mouth more prominent and his eyes filled with steel. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital,” he says, his face relaxing, and I realize that he’s not so much angry at me as worried for me. “You passed out at the wedding.”

  I sit bolt upright, my brain sort of kicking into gear again. “The wedding!”

  But I hiss sharply at the sudden movement and my own loud voice. I feel like I’ve got a hangover, one worse than any Donut Bliss Buzz times a thousand. Everything is too much—the light, the sounds, my blood racing through my veins.

  Daniel runs a soothing hand along my shoulder, encouraging me to lie back. “Relax. Just relax. Your body’s dealing with a lot.”

  Slowly, I settle back into the scratchy sheets and flat pillow, becoming aware of the antiseptic smell assaulting me as I try to breathe deeply. I echo Daniel’s words even though they don’t truly register. “I passed out at the wedding? I’m in the hospital?”

  Daniel nods and pours me a cup of water with a straw. “Yes. How do you feel?”

  I do a mental check of myself. “My head hurts.”

  “That’s to be expected,” Daniel says. “At least that’s what the docs said. And you hit your head on the floor when you went down. Scared the shit out of me.”

  I can hear the fear still threaded through his words.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him, automatically trying to reassure him though I don’t know that for sure.

  “Let’s leave that to the doctors. Let me call them.”

  He pushes the button on the side of the bed, and another beep sounds out. This one is different, and I realize the one that woke me up from the dream is the heart rate monitor beeping softly.

  “I had a dream.” I want to fall back into it and enjoy the happiness my mind created while I was unconscious. I could use a little rest. Just for a few minutes.

  “What did you dream about?”

  Remembering the dream brings back the image of Daniel, me, and our baby curled up in bed, and my gut flip-flops, remembering everything much more clearly. I don’t know what to say, but I’m suddenly scared. Am I okay?

  Luckily, the doctor comes in, saving me from answering Daniel’s question but hopefully able to answer some of my own.

  “Hello, welcome back, Miss Young. I’m Dr. Patel. How are you feeling?”

  I wave my free hand, the one that doesn’t have IV tubes running out of it, and wiggle it back and forth. “A little tired. My head hurts.”

  Dr. Patel nods. “Understandable. The tiredness is probably from your blood sugar dropping. We’re fixing that.” He points to the IV bag and the tube going down to my arm. “I understand you bumped your head when you lost consciousness. That’s probably adding to your headache.”

  He moves to the bedside, flashing a light in my eyes and ears, having me squeeze his fingers to check my grip, and asking me a bunch of questions like what year it is and my name. When I pass the neurological exam, he smiles. “Good, good. I think you’re going to be just fine, but we’ll want to keep you overnight for observation to do concussion checks. Any questions?”

  “Uhm.” I desperately want to ask about the baby. But I haven’t told Daniel, and this is not the way to do it. I look from the doctor to Daniel, not sure what to do.

  Ultimately, Daniel makes the decision for me. “The baby is fine, Tiffany.”

  I try to curl up and sob in relief, but hospital beds really, really suck for that, so I have to settle for burying my face in my hands. “Really?”

  Daniel stands, wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest. “Yes, my love. Oh, Tiffany, you scared the shit out of me twice in less than a half hour. But our baby is fine, and you’re going to be fine. I’m going to take care of everything.”

  With my cheek pressed to his chest, I can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

  He runs his palm over my hair soothingly as I cry into his shirt, holding onto him for dear life. “You’re sure?”

  Dr. Patel says gently, “Yes, Miss Young. Both you and the pregnancy appear healthy. The blood sugar drop appears to be related to your lack of food, partnered with the excitement of the day. And it actually isn’t uncommon for pregnancy hormones to wreak havoc with blood sugar levels. You’re not showing any of the other markers, so it seems to be a fluke occurrence, but you’ll need to monitor your intake carefully and follow up with your obstetrician. I’ll have a medical report ready for them. But if you take care of yourself, everything will turn out fine.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Patel,” Daniel says. “I’ll make sure she takes care of herself and do it for her if she doesn’t.” He says it so seriously, it could be a threat, but it’s not. It’s a vow, a promise . . . to me and our baby.

  “Good, then . . . I think I’ll leave you two to talk.” The door opens and closes quietly as the doctor leaves.

  Alone again, a fresh wave of tears racks through me. “I’m sorry, Daniel. So sorry.”

  “For what, exactly?” Daniel questions.

  I look up at him, and he gently swipes at the tears tracking down my cheeks with a thumb. “I won’t apologize for our baby. I won’t. But I should’ve told you.”

  Daniel nods, his voice tight even as his touch stays feather light and tender. “Yes, you should’ve. Why didn’t you?”

  Before we can talk further, the door swings open again, filling with worried faces. In a semi-organized rush that can better be described as ‘assholes and elbows’, Ace, Harper, Mom, Dad, and Elle come in. Daniel helps me lie back in the bed, fluffing the pillow around my head and smoothing my blanket.

  “Tiffany!” Elle says, hugging me immediately.

  “I’m okay.” To Harper, I offer her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry I ruined the wedding.”

  Harper, the angel that she is, smiles, laughing lightly. “Oh, honey, you didn’t ruin anything.”

  “Harper, you’re being too nice. You should be leaving for your honeymoon, but you’re at the hospital, in your wedding gown, because I passed out during your reception. I ruined your special day.”

  Harper pins me with a piercing look I’ve never seen on her. “Today was about Ace and me getting married, and we did. That’s all that matters. I kept telling you the rest of it wasn’t important. It was beautiful, and I appreciate everything you did, but all I needed was Ace.”

  And there I go again, crying messy rivers down my cheeks.

  “Thank you,” I manage to blubber to Harper. To Ace, I say, “You don’t deserve her. Do not ever piss her off because I’ll keep her and dump your ass in a heartbeat.”