The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,254

jaw set. She’d barely tolerated Noah in the past, so these shenanigans weren’t bound to make her any fonder of him.

One hundred people were sitting in that church, waiting for her to walk down the aisle.

What the hell was she going to do?

Faith. Libby just needed more faith. She’d had enough faith for Megan and Blair when their lives and weddings had begun to fall apart. Since they hadn’t seemed to understand what was really going on, Libby had needed to have enough faith for all three of them.

She gave them a dazzling smile. “Go ahead with the wedding, of course.”

“What about the missing groomsman?” Megan asked.

Libby shrugged. She refused to show her friends how upset she was that Noah wasn’t there. “Have Josh stand in for him.” She gave him a pointed glance, disappointment seeping into her voice. “Haven’t you spent most of your adult life cleaning up his messes? What’s one more?”

“Oh, Libby.” Megan threw her arms around her friend. “I’m so sorry.”

Libby pulled loose. “I’m okay. I should have known better. I just thought he was beyond this sort of thing.”

“We all did.”

“Does that mean you’re ready?” Blair asked, holding out Libby’s wildflower bouquet.

“I guess.”

Her response drew worried glances from her friends, but she was too busy trying to figure out what she would do if the curse didn’t work.

No. No. No. Stop thinking like that. She just had to believe.

Libby reached for the bouquet and took a deep breath. When she released it, serenity washed through her. This was going to work.

It had to.

Megan gave Josh a lingering kiss, then pulled back and smoothed his lapel, staring into his face with adoration and love. Both Blair and Libby had been jealous of their connection, even if neither woman had ever admitted it. But Blair had found that same deep love and contentment with Garrett. So where was Libby’s soulmate?

Josh left to get the groom and the other groomsman up to the altar while the three girls waited. The door flew open again, this time with more force. Libby’s mother waltzed in with a theatrical flounce. “They’re ready for you, my princess.”

Irritation set Libby on edge, quickly followed by a stab of guilt as she studied her mother. Gabriella St. Clair was a stunningly beautiful woman. Her rich dark brown hair was thick and long, and her olive complexion was flawless and nearly wrinkle-free, even though she had to be close to fifty years old, not that she’d ever admit to it. Libby had no idea how old her mother actually was since the elder St. Clair would never confess the year of her birth. Not that it mattered. Gabriella St. Clair’s face and body defied time, and she and Libby were often mistaken for sisters.

And there was the rub. Gabriella preferred to be seen as Libby’s sister than her mother and often did her best to make sure she was the center of attention. Even now—wearing a form-fitting white dress with a deep V-neck that showed off her ample cleavage—Gabriella St. Clair would not be relegated to the background.

Libby’s mother glided over to her and grabbed her hand in a dramatic flourish. “You are by far the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

Libby gritted her teeth. “Thank you, Momma.”

“I’m still not sure that boy out there is right for you.”

That was one of the few things the St. Clair women agreed upon, except Gabriella didn’t think Libby should marry at all.

“Thank you for your concern, Momma.”

Her mother patted her cheek and looked into her eyes. “No talking you out of it?”

Libby released a short laugh. At this point, if either of her friends told her this was crazy and encouraged her to back out of it, she’d probably do it in a heartbeat. But hearing her mother say it was a whole other thing. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Well, nothing’s forever, sweetheart.” Gabriella shot a wicked glance to Blair. “And you already have a divorce attorney on retainer.”

Blair’s mouth opened as if on a hinge, but Gabriella was already sweeping out of the room.

Blair put her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe her!”

Libby shook her head, her anxiety rising. “It’s my mother. What do you expect?” She took a breath. “It’s time to start.”

Megan took a step toward her. “Maybe you should take a moment.”

“I don’t care what she thinks. We’ve known she’s a narcissistic bitch since before I found her and my first boyfriend screwing on our kitchen counter. Why would anything change in