Page 82 of Rebel Moon

“We could fly your mom and Charlie in. For New Years. And a surprise wedding?”

“I don’t know. Ivy might not like it. What if she feels like we’re stealing her special month and making it our own?”

“Let’s ask her.”

I smiled back at him. “Maybe after her wedding. For now, she’s the only bride on the ranch.”

“Fair enough.” He stood, drawing me close. “Should we unmake the bed again?”

“Nothing better than a messy bed.”

“Let’s make it real messy,” Knox said.

And so we did.

23

MADELEINE

December 24

Christmas Eve — The Wedding

Clear and cold

Supper: The Wedding Feast

The bridal room was off the main lobby of the lodge. The room had a wide mirror, soft lighting, and several vanities, currently occupied by Ivy, Luci, and me with professionals making us look our very best for the big day. Blake lurked, recording. At this point we hardly noticed her presence. Even I had stopped worrying about what she captured on film. I’d already shown my hand and my heart to everyone currently residing at Crescent Moon Ranch. There was nothing else to hide.

June and Carol had left after getting their hair and makeup done to finish dressing in their own rooms. While Ivy, Luci, and I were still in chairs, Holly arrived with sandwiches and champagne.

Ivy was in a robe with her hair half done, her hands folded in her lap and a slight smile, almost like a woman waiting for a train she was glad to be catching.

“You nervous at all?” I asked.

“Nervous?” Her brow creased. “Why would I be nervous? I’m about to say I do to the man God made for me.” She caught my eye in the mirror and grinned. “I can’t wait to become Mrs. Wilder.”

“You’re not changing your name, are you?” I asked.

“Not my stage name. But you can bet your behind I’ll be taking his name, just like my mama took my daddy’s.”

I bit my tongue, not wanting to challenge the sentiment. Not today anyway. Ivy was happy and that’s all I cared about. Apparently, being in love myself had made me soft. How easily I went down, I thought. Regardless, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

The woman doing my face tilted my chin toward the light with two fingers, frowning at me like I was a painting she hadn’t decided about yet.

“Okay,” Blake said, pulling up a chair next to Ivy’s, camera pointing right at her. She was in jeans and a sweater for now but had brought her dress to hang with the rest of ours, as had Holly. “Ivy, tell us how you met Jack Wilder.”

“You know how I met him,” Ivy said.

“I know. The people watching won’t.” Blake’s voice went coaxing and warm. “Tell it like nobody’s heard it.”

Ivy beamed. “Well, it started with Hunter Sloan—he’s one of my dearest friends. We wrote “Finally Home” together. Now, I’ll tell y’all a secret. I wrote it with Jack in mind. I’d wanted to work with him for years but our schedules had never lined up. I’d met him before, of course, at award shows and such. Each time, I’d had this feeling like I’d known him a long time. You know that way some people feel familiar even thought they aren’t? And yes, I had a little crush on him.”

The stylist behind Ivy paused with a pin in her mouth to listen, then remembered herself and went back to pinning.

“A little crush?” I asked, teasing. “You wrote a song for the man to sing with you.”

Ivy laughed, shrugging one petite shoulder. “Whatever it takes to find the one, right?”