Rowan

Near the entrance of the property upon which the Tillamook Camp Packhouse sits, we have built something of an event center. We got the idea from Serena, who pointed out over a Skype call that the Louisiana Entente holds pack discussions in the pack's town hall. But today, the event center hosts our wedding reception. The wide bottom floor is fitted with wall-to-wall windows, providing a beautiful landscape of the forest, the packhouse, and the lush field around us. There is a dancefloor against the far wall and seating closer to us. The smells of delicious food from the buffet setup against the windows make my stomach growl.

Serena. I nearly melt in happiness when I see her. I'm careful when I hug her, not wanting to squish her five-month baby bump. She is pregnant with the future alpha of the Louisiana Entente. A baby girl. Serena and Arlette told Luis and me the baby's name, though we were sworn to secrecy. Sylvia Fuselier. The little girl is barely big enough to stretch the front of her mother's dress and she is already so beloved.

Arlette laughs as she hugs Luis. "Good to see you," she cries happily, patting his shoulder. "Damn beautiful ceremonies, both of 'em. I took notes."

"Don't be corny," Serena complains as she hugs Luis. She has cut her hair into a modern pompadour. The hairstyle makes her indigo eyes look as dangerous as they are beautiful. Her midnight purple dress makes her pale skin look luminescent. She rests a hand on her round tummy. "Baby kicked. She hates it, too."

Arlette howls in delight and pulls Serena in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, lowering her hand to Serena's bump. She looks down to address her unborn daughter. "Now, darlin', we talked about this. You gotta be nice to mama."

"You're carrying the next one," Serena grumbles. True to her word, she has kept up with us since her move. I've been getting daily earfuls about how much she hates being pregnant. I don't mind it one bit.

"Oh, I will," Arlette assures her, chuckling.

Josiah and Hannah walk up to greet Arlette and Serena. Luis's many cousins, aunts, and uncles take this opportunity to assail him with congratulations. They are interrupted only by Maria announcing that it is time to cut the cake.

Jose didn't bake the cake, but he worked extensively with a professional baker to make sure it turned out perfect. Four enormous layers of white and gold, complete with a blue rose and a yellow rose laying delicately together at the base of the cake. Luis and I fought hard over the flavor of the cake. I had had a delightful vanilla cake with raspberry filling at the wedding of one of my cousins that I wanted badly at my own wedding, but Luis argued that nothing beats a good gourmet chocolate. Jose told us he had already made a decision and it was out of our hands. As Luis and I cut into the bottom layer of the cake, I am gratified to see the white and red of my choice.

"Vanilla and raspberry!" I whisper tauntingly. I stick my tongue out at Luis.

He grabs a chunk of the piece we just cut and smashes it into my face. But I was expecting this. We discussed this beforehand. We both loved the stupid, messy tradition. I grab the remainder of the slice and mash it across his cheek. Laughter sounds out as chunks of cake fall onto our tuxes.

"Mm, that's great, Jose!" I tell him happily, scooping some into my mouth.

"Two of the layers are chocolate, Luis, don't be too mad," Jose laughs, watching his son wipe icing out of his eyes.

My mom, Joanna, and Maria are already there with towels to clean us up. I make stupid faces at my mom as she wipes the icing off of my skin.

Josiah and Hannah bring Luis and me our food as we take our coveted spots at the main table. I inhale the food, Jose's recipe of shredded chicken tacos and a curry dish he worked with my mother to develop. I'm just starting on the cake when Josiah stands up from his spot beside Luis. Luis shakes his head, laughing silently, as Josiah taps a fork against his glass. Jose joyfully hands Josiah a microphone.

"Hey, everyone, as the best man, it's my job to make sure we all understand how fortunate we are that Rowan is taking this one for the team," Josiah begins, pointing his fork to me. Everyone laughs. "I mean, seriously. I did my absolute best to wingman Luis and still failed. He is damn lucky he tricked Rowan into falling for him."

As not everyone in this room is a werewolf, these words carry a double meaning. Those who know the story all remember, with great nostalgia, how disastrously my relationship with Luis began.

"I kept trying to tell him, like, 'don't screw this one up, man'," Josiah sighs, shaking his head. "Rowan, I really don't know how many times Sarika, Marshall and Joanna dropped you on your head, but that's to our benefit, I guess." Laughter breaks out over the room. Josiah looks over to my parents. "Thanks, guys. If he had his full mental faculties, he'd be on the other side of the country."

This light roast was suggested by Jose, but it's clear that Josiah is out of his element. To roast your best friend, who is also just days away from being your alpha, and his new husband is no easy task. Josiah would much rather rain praises upon us.

"But seriously," Josiah says, looking over at us. "Luis has the kind of personality that consumes a room. Since we were little kids, he has dragged me into grand schemes for world domination. Pulled me into visions of glory without either of us realizing it. Only Rowan is smart- and stubborn- enough to resist him. Only Rowan can keep him grounded. Luis has a way of having his head so high in the clouds that the rest of us peek up there, too, trying to see what he is seeing. Rowan brings us all back to reality, even if he has to yank us by the hair."

Josiah smiles. "But at the same time, Rowan is a distrusting guy. I tried to give him some eggnog at Christmas and he had it sent to the lab," he jokes. "Luis reminds Rowan that the world can be a nice place. Sometimes. These two are so made for each other, so perfectly fitting, that they'd make anyone else miserable. I mean this, you two. You deserve each other." Josiah raises his glass. "Congratulations, Mister and Mister Arti!"

Everyone toasts and cheers.

When dinner is over, it is time to dance. Luis and I take the first dance, of course. I thought it would be awkward to have so many eyes on us as we danced as husbands for the first time. But as he held me gently, delicately moving me to the music, I feel nothing but love. When our slow song is over, everyone joins us on the floor. And everyone dances together. Not the sweet slow-dancing, either. Real dancing. Though some classical moves still make it in. I watch Luis spin Kiley by the hand and lead her into a slight dip, the two of them laughing the whole time. I find my own lady alpha to one-up them. Arlette had the same idea and is already reaching for me. She arches her back as I dip her dramatically, her hair touching the floor. I dance with everyone, it seems. Everyone wants to be close to me. Even Clareese and Ollie, who dislike crowds, grin and cheer as we celebrate together.

The faster songs fade as we grow tired, seeming to slow down with every star that appears in the sky. I look around and see everyone coupling together. Ollie and Kiley look too sweet to be real. Her heels make her the same height as her fiancé. Hannah and Josiah. Sara and Talia. Maria and Jose. My dad and Joanna. Kirk and Zach. Serena's feet hurt her too badly to keep dancing, but I spot her and Arlette on the patio together, listening to the music as they snuggle on a plush bench. There are even more non-romantic bonds blooming. Clareese laughs and plays with Amber. The Carpenter sisters appear to be playing some kind of drinking game against one of my cousins and two of Luis's. My mother and Chris watch over this game, sharing their dry sense of humor with one another. Alphas and betas I have met, but can't remember the names of. Important people from NALA. I talk and dance with all of them. The hottest topic of conversation is the renovations being planned for Tillamook Camp's land. Fascinated by this subject, I engage with it happily. I never really stop eating the cake. As soon as I finish a piece by taking tiny bites while I talk, someone hands me another piece. It'll take a few hours in the pool to work this off, but I'm happy.

I'm so happy it feels strange. Alien. A cruel voice whispers to me, reminding me of the things I have seen, the things I have survived. I cannot reconcile being kidnapped or nearly gutted to death with the taste of vanilla cake and strawberry jam in my mouth.

Relax, I tell myself. Enjoy yourself. It's your wedding. Think of nice things, not sad things.

As I push away the rest of the uneaten cake, my inner voice responds.

If only it were that easy.