She narrowed her eyes, noted his were clear and rested.

“Go check on him. I don’t want him over here until three thirty.”

“His best man has it under control. Bob’s as bad as you with lists and time clocks. He’ll go by the studio, pick up our groom at three fifteen.”

“Then go be useful. Emma’s team is working on the Solarium, with the second unit setting up for dinner.”

“Jack’s on Emma’s detail.”

“Jack’s here? What about Malcolm?”

“He’s hanging with Carter. We figured somebody should, in case he makes a run for it.”

“Very funny. But it’s good somebody’s keeping Carter company. I was going to run over and check on him myself, but if Malcolm’s with him, I’ll go check on Mac instead.You can go tell Laurel she’s got an hour and twenty minutes, then she needs to be up in the Bride’s Suite.”

“If she’s in the middle of something, she could come at me with a pastry cutter.”

“Those are the chances we take.”

MALCOLM SPRAWLED IN A CHAIR WITH A COKE AND A BAG OF CHIPS and caught a motocross race on ESPN.

Carter paced.

He’d gotten used to the pattern. Carter paced, sat and stared at the TV, checked his watch. Got up and paced.

“Having second thoughts, Professor? I’ve got orders to get a rope if you try to run.”

“What? No. Ha-ha. No. Is it really only one thirty? Maybe the battery’s dead.” He frowned at his watch, tapped the face. “What time do you have?”

Malcolm held up his naked wrist.“Time for you to relax.Want a shot of something?”

“No. No. No. Maybe. No. It’s just . . . It feels like I’ve entered another dimension where five minutes is equivalent to an hour and a half.We should’ve gone for an afternoon wedding.We’d be getting married right now if we’d gone for an afternoon wedding.”

“In a hurry?”

“I guess I am.” He stared blindly.“Some days I don’t know how all this happened, and others it’s like it’s always been. I’m just—it’s—we’re—”

“Spit it out.”

“When you find somebody you love, all the way through, and she loves you—even with your weaknesses, your flaws, everything starts to click into place. And if you can talk to her, and she listens, if she makes you laugh, and makes you think, makes you want, makes you see who you really are, and who you are is better, just better with her, you’d be crazy not to want to spend the rest of your life with her.”

He stopped with a sheepish smile. “I’m rambling.”

“No.” As the words had something turning around inside him, Malcolm shook his head. “It’s nice for you, Carter.You’re a lucky bastard.”

“Today, I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

Malcolm switched off the TV. “Get some cards.We’ll play some gin, see if that luck translates.”

“Sure.” He looked at his watch again. “Is it really only one thirty-five?”

MAC STEPPED INTO THE BRIDE’S SUITE, STOPPED, DID A HAPPY DANCE. “Look, look, it’s mine. Today, it’s mine. Champagne, and the pretty fruit, the flowers, the candles. Oh, Em, the flowers.”

“Nothing but the best for our brides. It is Vows, after all.”

“Champagne first.” Laurel crossed over to pour.

“Half a glass for me,” Parker said.“I still have a few things to—”

“Parker, no.” Mac grabbed her hands. “From right now until the last dance, you’re my friend, one of my wonderful, beautiful, very-much-needed maids of honor. Monica’s got the rest. I need you with me—and the bride rules at Vows.”

“All right. Fill me up, Laurel.”

“Karen, maybe you could get a wide shot of—”

“Uh-uh.” Parker wagged a finger. “If I’m one of your MOH, you are strictly the bride, not the photographer.”

“We’ve got you covered, Mac.” Karen winked at her, changed lenses.

“I know, sorry.” She took a deep breath, and a glass of champagne. “Okay.To Wedding Day.This time it’s real.”

After the first sip, Mac held up a hand.“And one more because I might forget later. Emma, thank you for making it all so beautiful, and Laurel, thank you for a truly spectacular cake. And Parks, for all the details, the little and the big, thanks so much. But mostly, just thanks for being mine.”

“Okay, stop. Drink.” Laurel blinked.“There’s no crying today.”

“Maybe just a little.We haven’t had makeup yet.”

As Emma slipped an arm around Mac, Parker passed out tissues.

Then the door opened, and Mrs. Grady stood grinning. “Hair and makeup’s coming up.”

“All right, tears off,” Parker ordered. “Let’s get to work.”

She’d always enjoyed this part, even though she’d only come in and gone out as needed. Now Parker sat under the hairdresser’s hands, a glass of champagne in hers, watching the makeup artist work on Mac.

A new perspective, she mused, enjoying the way Carter’s mother hurried in to chat, to laugh, to cry a little, and pleased with how efficiently Monica or Susan checked in. She had to order herself not to get up when Monica reported the groom and his party were in the house, but settled back, assured herself everything would go according to plan.

And it did.

On schedule, she, Emma, and Laurel changed into their gowns. Mac had been right on the colors, the tones, she thought. The deep pumpkin added a glow to Laurel’s skin while the russet highlighted Emma’s dusky beauty. And the dark gold suited her, she decided.

Together, they looked like shimmering fall flowers.

“We rock,” Laurel declared.

“You guys look amazing.” In her corset and garters, Mac circled her finger so they’d do a turn. “Oh yeah, just amazing. And oh, Mrs. G, look at you.”

“Not bad for an old broad.” Mrs. Grady did a turn on her own in her midnight blue gown.

“Your turn,” Parker announced.

“Oh boy, oh boy.”

They helped her into her wedding dress, smoothing and fluffing the tissue organza overlay, hooking the flirty back with its ruffle train. Parker watched Mac transform as she stood in front of the cheval glass.