VANESSA
"You promised what?" I stared at Phoebe, who was sitting across from me in my living room, cradling a steaming mug of herbal tea.
"I said when we were twelve," Phoebe defended herself with a laugh. "You promised that your future child would be the ring bearer at my wedding. We made a blood pact and everything."
I vaguely remembered that summer afternoon, our girlish dreams of future weddings and families while we hid in the treehouse my father had built for Leo and me. "I was twelve, Phoebe. I didn't even have a boyfriend yet, let alone plans for a child."
"A promise is a promise, Van." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "And now that I'm actually getting married, I'm cashing in."
Before I could respond, rapid footsteps thundered down the hallway. Fabian burst into the room, eyes wide with excitement.
"I get to be in a wedding?" he asked, bouncing on his toes. I should have known his wolf hearing would pick up our conversation.
