Maya's POV
My eyes fluttered open to the sound of excited whispers. The girls had banished Damon from the room yesterday and spent the night with me, insisting on a full spa treatment before my big day.
"Rise and shine, bride-to-be!" Hazel sang, pulling open the curtains.
They'd already dragged me to a salon in the next town over earlier that week for treatments, including the perfect French manicure I now admired on my fingers. Yet somehow, they still deemed it necessary for overnight facial masks and a silk hair wrap that made me look ridiculous.
Breakfast was a rushed affair. I barely managed to swallow a few bites of toast before being whisked back to the bedroom where a makeup artist and hairstylist awaited. They worked their magic with expert hands – applying just the right amount of makeup to enhance my features without looking overdone, and creating an elegant low bun that felt secure but not tight.
