“Oh?” she asked, leaning against the door.

“Yeah. I just wanted to say . . . well, I’m so lucky. I’m the luckiest guy I know, getting to marry the girl of my dreams.”

“Oh,” she whispered, pressing her hand against the wood.

“Ohhh,” Sophia and I mouthed to each other, linking arms and listening.

“And I can’t wait to marry you—like, I literally can’t wait. I know it’s happening in an hour, but it’s too long, you know?”

“I know,” she sighed, and relaxed against the door. Gown? Forgotten. Choos? Forgotten. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” he whispered, and Sophia and I sighed together. “I also can’t wait for our honeymoon. I’m going to throw you down on that bed and peel that dress off of you as fast as I can. I can’t wait to fuck my wife.”

“Uh, sweetie? The girls are in here.”

“Shit.”

“Hi, Ryan,” Sophia and I said, once more in unison.

“Shit,” he said again.

“But, wow, does that sound good,” Mimi said softly.

Ryan chuckled on the other side of the door. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to your bride stuff. I just, wanted to tell you that.”

“See you in there,” Mimi smiled, and we could hear him walking away. She turned back to us, her eyes bright. “I’m going to marry that man barefoot. Because who the hell cares.”

She ran at us, a tiny, happy torpedo, and hugged us both tight. And just like that, Sophia was back in the wedding party.

Crisis averted, the wedding went off without a hitch. No more vomit, lots of laughter, and lots of tears. And one pair of perfectly pedicured feet dancing down the aisle toward the groom. Mimi’s gown was tea length, sculptured satin crafted on a 1950s pattern. The fact that she was barefoot? Charming. Her smile? Evident from outer space. Matched only by the one on her husband-to-be’s face as he watched her approach.

The ceremony was brief by Roman Catholic standards, and beautiful. And speaking of beautiful . . .

I would never get tired of looking at Simon Parker in a tuxedo. Especially at the end of an aisle. Not going to lie, it gave me thoughts. Especially when during the ceremony he caught my eye more than once. Sometimes we simply grinned, enjoying the moment with our friends. Sometimes he looked thoughtful, as weddings tend to make everyone think about the future and the past. And once, those sapphire eyes burned into mine, hinting at what he’d rather be doing than standing at an altar. And what he’d rather be doing was me.

In case that was in any way unclear.

As the happy couple made their way down the aisle to applause and well-wishers, Neil followed with his very pregnant girlfriend, Sophia. Then Simon stepped down the few altar steps, slipped my hand into his arm, and walked me down the aisle as well. “Beautiful.”

“It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“Wasn’t talking about the ceremony,” he whispered, his gaze dropping down my body, down past the russet silk, the palest tea-colored shantung, the perfectly dyed peep-toe pumps, and back up again to settle on my cleavage. Amply displayed. Mimi liked a low-cut dress on her ladies in waiting.

“That’s very sweet.”

“Those are very sweet,” he murmured, still gazing at the girls.

“Eyes up here, Mr. Parker,” I instructed, squeezing his forearm. And as I did, I was reminded once more of the innate strength of this man—my man. Long and lean, tall and impossibly good looking with his dark hair and his blue eyes, and his powerful hands holding me steady as he thrust into me from . . . wait. What?

“Where’d you just go?” he asked, his eyes curious.

“Someplace naughty,” I teased, a blush warming my cheeks.

Sweeping a piece of my blond hair back behind my ear, he leaned closer and dropped a kiss on my neck, just below my ear.

“I knew I should have changed your name from Nightie Girl to Naughty Girl.”

“Quiet, Wallbanger; we’ve got a receiving line to get through. Then pictures. Then cocktail hour. Then dinner. Then dancing. We’ll be lucky to have any naughty times before tomorrow.”

“Quickie in the coatroom?”

“Nope, that concept was ruined for me by those two.” I laughed, pointing at Sophia and Neil.

His hand was firmly on Sophia’s bottom, church be damned. Since announcing their pregnancy a few months ago, Sophia had put on about thirty pounds, and they all went to her boobs and her butt. Neil could literally not get enough.

“Doggie style. All day. All night. That’s all he wants. He can’t stop looking at it, touching it, kissing it, rubbing it. It’s like I’m just one giant ass, there for his enjoyment,” Sophia had told Mimi and me one day at lunch, to the immense pleasure of our waiter, who was hovering extremely close that day. My water glass never dipped below two-thirds full.

Simon leaned in once more, just before we got to the end of the pews. “What if I told you I know a place perfectly suited for a quickie, guaranteed no one will find out?” His breath warmed my skin, and some other parts.

“You’re like the devil,” I whispered back, shivering deliciously.

“Caroline. Please. We’re in church,” he chided with a twinkle in his eye. Ungh. Loved this guy.

We had now reached the front steps. And as we all spilled out onto the sidewalk below, we watched Ryan swing his new bride around in a circle, her feet kicked up in the air, arms tight around his neck as she laughed and laughed. The crowd oohed and aahed appropriately, and my friends and I gathered to watch and smile as the first of our crew made it official.