The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

Alejandro waited patiently by my side, until I pushed off of the wall and gave him a nod, looking into his eyes with all the gratitude I could muster. “Thank you, Alejandro.”

“Of course, boyo. It’s like that for all of us. You should’ve seen me before my wedding. A stiff breeze could’ve knocked me over that day. But trust me, as soon as you see her standing there waiting for you—only you—you’ll forget all of your nerves for sure.”

I grinned at him, a chuckle escaping from my lips, just as Tim rounded the corner. I stepped out around Alejandro, smiling as the young man bounded over, a lopsided and excited smile plastered on his youthful face.

“Violet ready,” he announced. “Waiting for you in hospital. Everyone.”

Reaching out, I gently ruffled his hair. “Thanks, Tim. Let me go round up the guys, and we’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay!” he said with a sharp nod. He turned and then bounded back down the stairs, his feet landing heavily on the floor and kicking up a ruckus as he moved quickly to the bottom.

Exchanging looks with Alejandro, I grinned and then moved over to the door, throwing it open.

“It’s time, gentlemen,” I announced to the men waiting inside.





19





Violet





My hands were sweating, forcing me to shift the bouquet of flowers Tim had picked for me from one hand to another. The hospital was quiet. People were sleeping, mostly, but Dr. Tierney had helped us—and, I assumed, them—by moving the less-than-critical patients out of the small corner we were holding the ceremony in.

The beds had been shifted slightly, angled in rows to create a wider space between them, as well as in the aisle separating them. A podium had been brought in and placed near the wall. The officiant would stand behind it, while Viggo and I were in front, close to the beds. Our guests would sit in them during the ceremony. Well, some of them would. Quinn and Jay were still lying there, as always.

Solomon had been brought out of his private room for the ceremony. It made me smile to have him here, even if he wasn’t awake. He still hadn’t regained consciousness, but Dr. Tierney had warned me not to worry yet. If he wasn’t up in another day or so, then we’d have to worry. I just hoped it wasn’t my fault that he was still unconscious.

Tim entered, flashing me a smile, and I looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Viggo on his tail. But as Tim scampered over, I felt a wave of nervous disappointment roll over me, and sucked in a shuddering breath.

“This is so stupid,” I muttered as Tim dropped down into a nearby bed, right next to where Jay was still sleeping in his bed. “Why am I even feeling like this?”

“You beautiful,” Tim said reassuringly, reaching up to lightly touch my arms. I looked down at the dress I was wearing. It was a simple thing, really, and totally inappropriate attire for winter. The sheer yellow fabric underneath the black crocheted bodice and sleeves was so thin, I’d freeze to death if we were outside. Despite its thinness, it was oddly heavy, which only added to the discomfort of having my legs bare, and the fact that the entire thing was half an inch too tight.

Then again, maybe it was in my head. I’d never been the kind of girl to wear dresses—never had the money or luxury of owning one, really—and I’d usually worn them in Patrus as disguises. At the moment, this one felt no different. I’d traded my good boots for it—at my insistence—to a young woman in Mags’ group. Her shoes had been next to nothing, and I just couldn’t take the dress without giving her something in return. Yet even after going through all that to secure a dress, I suddenly desperately wished I were in pants and a sweater.

“The dress is okay,” I half-whispered under my breath, trying to convince myself. “But my hair is still a half-grown mess, my face is still bruised up… This was an awful idea. I really should go change.”

“It fine,” Tim said reassuringly. The door opened behind him, and I looked up, my heart in my throat, beating faster than a trapped butterfly. The disappointment I felt as I saw Ms. Dale leading in Logan, Drew, Mags, and Jenny was almost unbearable, and I looked back at Tim.

“I’m getting married in a hospital!” I whispered harshly.

Maybe I was nervous and just needed to complain, or maybe all of this was taking too long. Either way, I just wanted to see Viggo so he could wrap his arms around me and make me laugh about my own silliness. This whole thing had been my idea, after all.

“Thank you for doing that,” said a hoarse voice, grabbing my attention. I looked over and saw Jay’s eyes open—albeit still looking a little groggy—a half-smile on his face. “Violet,” he rasped as soon as his eyes met my gaze, “you look so beautiful.” His lips smacked as he talked, and Tim immediately reached for a cup on the nightstand next to Jay, lifting it up to his lips and helping him drink a few mouthfuls.

The move was so careful and practiced that it was clear Tim had been spending every waking and sleeping moment with Jay since he’d been injured. I moved closer and then sat down on the side of Jay’s bed, my knees brushing up against Tim’s. Jay gave me a sleepy smile, and then yawned.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice a little less rough now that he’d had water. “These meds are really good at making the pain go away, but not so good for staying awake.” He yawned another time, and then shook his head. “So… you finally marrying Viggo? It’s about time.”

I looked up as Ms. Dale directed Drew, Mags, and Logan to sit on an empty bed, but only Mags and Drew sat down. Logan moved over to where Amber was sitting, on the bed next to Solomon’s, and dropped onto the mattress behind her. He said something, and Amber rolled her eyes silently in return. But as she turned to give him the cold shoulder, I noticed a small smile creeping across her lips.

I wasn’t able to comprehend or wonder about their drama right now. I stood back up, unable to sit any longer, and began to shift my weight back and forth, waiting impatiently. Morgan entered the room and made a beeline over to me, a nervous smile on her face.

“Hey, Violet, how are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” I replied tersely, shifting the bundle of flowers to my other hand again while I dragged my moist palm down the side of my dress. “You?”

Her green eyes darted around, and she nodded, her smile softening and dimming into a small frown. “Nervous.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my wedding. Technically I’m the only one entitled to be nervous.”

Morgan gaped at me for a second, and then grinned. “You’re becoming one of those bride monsters, Violet,” she teased, stepping around me and sitting down in the empty bed behind Jay’s. She pulled out a notebook and a pen, opened up to a page, and began reading, her mouth moving softly as she rehearsed whatever speech she had written.