The soft hum of the carriage wheels rolling along the cobbled streets was nearly drowned out by Riley's laughter.
She had been cackling ever since we left the twins with Leora, who, to her credit, took their chaotic energy in stride.
"She didn't even flinch," Riley said, shaking her head. "Leora is either a saint or completely immune to toddler mayhem. I swear, if it were me, I'd have locked them in a magically sealed room by now."
"Riley!" I gasped, but a laugh escaped me. "You wouldn't actually do that."
"Wouldn't I?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "You've seen what they're capable of."
I couldn't argue there. The twins had perfected the art of destruction, but tonight wasn't about them. Tonight was about me—or at least that's what Riley claimed.
She'd insisted I needed one last night of freedom before the wedding, which somehow translated to an evening at one of the liveliest bars in the city.
