The only other night that Emery remembered which was going to even come close to Nevaeh’s night was the Yule ball. She remembered the lights, the glittering, the beautiful dresses and the handsome boys. Everything would be much prettier this time around, of course. She would make sure of that. Nothing was going to be less than perfect.

The mother of one had been running around with Barty’s sister, who was a wedding planner, to achieve just that. Poor Quill had been graciously obliging to his wife’s demands and best friend’s happiness. Even he knew Nevaeh deserved a perfect night.