Page 84 of Iron

“Freddie's very professional about client confidentiality,” I say.

“Freddie is not professional about anything,” Bill says. “Freddie once told my entire book club about my divorce before I did.”

“Regardless.” Netra waves a hand, refusing to be derailed. “Ring first. Details. Now.”

I hold my hand out across the table, and the entire group leans in at once like I'm presenting evidence in a trial, Gregory actually grabbing my wrist to get a better angle under the light.

“Emeralds,” he breathes. “He did an entire color story.”

“I did,” Gavin says, entirely too pleased with himself.

“You had taste,” Pat corrects. “There's a difference.”

“So when's the wedding?” Bill asks, and the table goes quiet in that specific way that means everyone's actually waiting for a real answer, not just making conversation. “Because I'm assuming there's a wedding. I'm assuming we're all invited. I will riot if we're not invited.”

“There's absolutely a wedding,” Gregory says before either of us can answer. “We are in this wedding. That's not a request. That's a demand.”

“We haven't even started planning anything,” I say, laughing.

“Well, start,” Netra says. “Right now. At this table. We have opinions, and we're not going anywhere.”

Gavin looks over at me, something soft under the noise of the table, and I feel it land the way it always does now, that specific warmth that's stopped being new and started just being how things are.

“Guess we need to start planning it, then,” he says.

“Guess we do.”

“Big wedding? Small wedding? Give the people something to work with.” Bill's already got his phone out, poised like he's about to start a spreadsheet on the spot.

“Not huge,” I say, thinking about it for real the first time, picturing it instead of just hearing the word. “But not small either. I want everyone there. Caleb, Ben and Geoff and Jasmine, Freddie, this whole table. My family. Friends from Babylon. I don't want to leave people out just to keep the guest list tidy.”

“So, medium,” Pat says.

“Medium with feelings,” Gregory clarifies. “The good kind.”

Gavin's quiet for a moment, turning something over, and then he sets his drink down with the look he gets right before he solves a problem nobody asked him to solve.

“Ben's clubhouse,” he says. “Rent the whole thing out for a day. Patio for the ceremony, ballroom for the reception. Big enough for everyone you just named, private enough that it's actually about us and not a circus.”

“Gavin.”

“What. It's a good venue. Ben would probably give us a deal, given the circumstances.”

“You want to get married at a golf club.” I’m grinning again. Seems to happen a lot recently.

“I want to get married somewhere that means something. That course has meant something to both of us since before either of us admitted anything to each other.” He shrugs, easy, like it's obvious. “Seems fitting.”

I don't have an answer for that right away, mostly because he's right, and mostly because the table's gone quiet again, watching us with the kind of soft, delighted attention that means they already know they've just witnessed something real happen in the middle of their celebration.

“Ben's clubhouse,” I say finally, testing the words. “Yeah. Okay. I like that.”

“See,” Bill says, already typing something into his phone. “Progress. I'm putting it in the group chat right now.”

“There's already a group chat?”

“There is now.”

“When?” Netra asks.