“I got some killer pictures. And the cake was awesome,” Mac added. “Maybe I should go for the poppy seed for mine.”

To ease the cramping, Laurel curled and uncurled her toes. “Last week you wanted the Italian cream.”

“Maybe I should have cake samplers. Small versions of several kinds, different designs. It would be a culinary orgy, plus amazing photography.”

Laurel cocked a finger. “Die, Mackensie. Die.”

“You should stick with the Italian cream. It’s your favorite.”

Mac pursed her lips as she nodded at Emma. “You’re right. And it is all about me. What are you leaning toward, cakewise?”

“I can’t even think about it. I’m still getting used to being engaged.” Emma studied the diamond on her finger with an undeniably smug smile. “Plus, once I shift into wedding plans and details, I fully expect to succumb to mania. So we should put that off as long as possible.”

“Yes, please.” Laurel sighed her agreement.

“You need the dress first anyway.” Parker kept her eyes closed. “The dress always comes first.”

“Now you’ve done it,” Laurel muttered.

“I’ve barely thought about it. More than a thousand times,” Emma added. “I’ve hardly looked at more than half a million pictures. I’m going for princess. Miles and miles of skirt. Probably an off-the-shoulder bodice, maybe a sweetheart neckline since I do have exceptional br**sts.”

“It’s true, you do,” Mac agreed.

“Absolutely nothing simple. Lavish is my byword. I want a tiara—and a train.” Dark eyes glowed at the thought. “And since we’re squeezing it into next May, I’m going to design myself an incredible, and yes, lavish, bouquet. Pastels, I think. Maybe. Probably. Romantic, heartbreaking pastels.”

“But she can’t even think about it,” Laurel put in.

“All of you in soft colors,” Emma went on, unfazed. “A garden of my friends.” She let out a sigh of her own, long and dreamy. “And when Jack sees me, he’ll lose his breath. In that one moment, you know, when we look at each other, the world’s going to stop for us. Just for a minute, one incredible minute.”

From her position on the floor, she rested her head against Parker’s leg. “We didn’t really know, all those times we played Wedding Day when we were kids. We didn’t really know what that one incredible moment meant. We’re so lucky we get to see it as often as we do.”

“Best job ever,” Mac murmured.

“Best job ever because we are.” Laurel sat up enough to toast. “We put it together so people can have that one incredible moment. You’ll have yours, Em—orchestrated down to the last detail by Parker, surrounded with flowers you’ve arranged yourself, captured in a photograph by Mac. And celebrated with a cake I’ll create just for you. A lavish one. Guaranteed.”

“Aww.” Emma’s dark eyes filled. “As much as I love Jack—and boy, do I ever—I couldn’t be as happy as I am now without all of you.”

Mac handed Emma a tissue. “I’m still first. I want a cake that’s just for me,” she said to Laurel. “If she gets one, so do I.”

“I can put little cameras and tripods around the tiers.”

“And little stacks of books for Carter?” Mac laughed. “Silly, but apt.”

“It follows the theme of your engagement shots.” Emma dried her eyes. “I love the way you set those up, with you and Carter on the couch, your legs all tangled together, him with a book on his lap, you looking like you’ve just lowered your camera after taking his picture. Both of you just grinning at each other. Which leads me to ask you about our engagement portrait. When, where, how?”

“Easy. You and Jack in bed, naked.”

Emma shot out a foot to give Mac a light kick. “Stop.”

“Also apt,” was Laurel’s opinion.

“We do more than have sex!”

“You certainly do. You think about having sex.” Parker opened one eye.

“We have a very layered relationship,” Emma insisted. “Which includes lots of sex. But seriously—”

“I’ve got a few things in mind. We should look at our schedules and set something up.”

“Now?”

“Sure. Parks must have both our schedules on her CrackBerry.” Mac reached toward it.

Parker opened both eyes, aimed a smoldering warning stare. “Touch it and die.”

“Jesus. Let’s go check my book at the studio. We should probably round up the guys anyway—and we’d have to have Jack clear the time.”

“Excellent.”

“Where are the guys?” Laurel wondered.

“Down with Mrs. G,” Emma told her. “Eating pizza and playing poker—or that was the plan.”

“Nobody asked us for pizza and poker.” Laurel managed a horizontal shrug as eyes turned to her. “Okay, no, I don’t want pizza and poker because I like it right here. But still.”

“Anyway.” Mac pushed to her feet. “Rounding up under the circumstances might take some time. Let’s just plant the seed, then go figure the schedule.”

“That’s a plan. Good job, girls,” Emma said as she stood.

As they left, Laurel stretched. “I need a massage. We should have an in-house masseur named Sven. Or Raoul.”

“I’ll put that on the list. Meanwhile, you could call Serenity and book one.”

“But if we had Sven—I think Sven is better than Raoul—I could have one right now, then I’d slide bonelessly into bed and sleep. How many days until vacation?”

“Too many.”

“You say that now, but once we’re free and get to the Hamptons, you’ll still have that BlackBerry attached to your hand.”

“I can give it up anytime I want.”

Laurel answered Parker’s smile. “You’ll buy a waterproof bag for it, so you can swim with it.”

“They should make them waterproof. We must have the technology.”

“Well, I’m going to leave you and your one true love alone, go soak in a hot tub, and dream of Sven.” Laurel rolled off the couch. “It’s good seeing Emma and Mac so happy, isn’t it?”