Page 31 of Unmanageable

Beside me, Nico hides his face in his hands, laughing so hard he’s shaking, while I throw my arms up in mock defense, shouting back that chocolate has antioxidants.

Rick waits for the noise to die down, lifting his glass toward the head table. His eyes rest on Ivy, warm and fiercely protective.

“In all seriousness, Ivy… you’ve always been the anchor for everyone around you. I’m just glad you found a guy who is willing to be an anchor for you, too. Even if he was a massive pain in my salary cap. To Ivy and Cal. Please come visit the front office before I fire everyone.”

The applause for Rick gives way to a few more scheduled toasts from family and old friends.

Dean takes the microphone, and by the time he’s halfway through his speech, there isn’t a dry eye in the entire tent. He talks about meeting Ivy, about the quiet strength she’s always carried, and the raw, protective love in his voice wrecks the room.

I look over and even see some of the toughest guys on the defensive line wiping their eyes with their linen napkins.

It’s a rare sight—men who routinely block hundred-mile-an-hour pucks with their bodies, now undone by a few kind words.

It takes a few minutes for the collective sniffles to clear out after Dean sits back down.

Before the chatter can fully pick up, the wedding coordinator discreetly flags the band leader, and a smooth voice echoes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention for our next toast of the evening—please welcome the Maid of Honor, Scottie.”

I feel a lump in my throat, but it’s shoved aside the second Scottie stands up.

She smooths down the front of her dress, taking a steadying breath that only I seem to notice. In her hand, she’s holding a small, battered notebook with a faded green cover.

She steps up to the microphone, her eyes scanning the room before locking briefly onto mine.

“When Iveline and Callahan got engaged, I already started planning this speech,” she begins, then leans forward as if telling a secret. “By the way, Ivy never officially asked me to be the Maid of Honor. She didn’t have to. I always knew it would be me, or I’d have to kill her. And Ivy knows I have the legal resources to hide the body.”

The room erupts in laughter. Ivy is shaking her head, burying her face in her hands, mortified.

“One night, a few months ago,” Scottie continues, “Ivy asked me if my speech was going to be embarrassing. She begged me not to reveal anything too scandalous about her life.”

She pauses, clicking a pen—a nervous habit she doesn’t even seem aware of—and looks out at the crowd with a sudden, wicked glint in her eye.

“So, I’ve decided to honor her request by revealing something incredibly embarrassing about myself instead.”

She opens the green notebook.

“I am an only child,” she says. “Growing up, my home wasn’t filled with the sound of siblings running around or the chaos of a big family. It was quiet. It was just me. So, I wrote in a diary. I talked to the pages because… well, there was no one else to talk to.”

She stops, clearing her throat as she looks down. Her eyes drop to the old, yellowed paper, her thumb rubbing against the edge.

“Dear Diary,” she reads. “Today was the first day of Grade Six. I think I’m going to hate middle school.”

A wave of quiet, warm laughter ripples through the tent. Scottie waits for it to settle, her gaze dropping back to the messy, childhood handwriting.

“But… today I met my best friend. Well, she doesn’t know it yet, but Iveline Talvi St. James will be my friend. Apparently, she lived somewhere in Europe before. I think that’s cool. I think she is cool. And I know we are going to be best friends. I’m going to go talk to her tomorrow… and tell her she’s stuck with me.”

I look at Ivy. She’s crying openly now, a hand over her mouth.

Scottie flips through the pages and stops at the very last entry.

“And today, I wrote in it again.”

She takes a shallow breath. “Dear Diary, today my best friend is getting married. I watched her walk down the aisle and I realized that I was right back in the sixth grade—scared of being alone, but knowing that as long as she’s there, I’m not.”

She looks up, her eyes landing on Ivy.

“I grew up as an only child. But ever since I met you, Ivy, my heart hasn’t felt lonely for a single bit.”