by Lush, Tamara
Damien and Kate are now rubbing noses. Max and I look at each other and laugh.
When he rests his hand on the back of my head and strokes my hair, I tilt my head back, shut my eyes, and allow the Florida sunshine to wash over me.
* * *
“You don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know.”
Max sets my butt on the edge of the bed, then climbs on and arranges pillows against the headboard.
“I know. But it was easier and quicker to do it this way. Here, lean back.”
I scoot myself to the pillows and sink back.
“You’re being so nice to me. Why?”
Max helped me move all during the rehearsal, and then during the bar-b-cue, he wouldn’t allow me to get up from my seat. He’d fixed a plate for me, gotten me drinks, and even fetched an ice pack for my ankle.
He grins and shrugs.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been around a man this attentive. I need to tell your mother she did a great job of raising you.”
Max smiles. “You going to be okay alone here tonight?”
“Pfft. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably watch a movie and sleep early. You go have fun with the guys. It’s your brother’s bachelor party, not like you can miss that.” I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Night fishing sounds kind of cool, though.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe someday we can take you out at night in Remy’s boat. It’s even better in the summer, because it’s a break from the heat.”
“I’m in,” I say, acutely aware I won’t be here in the summer, and probably by the time I’m capable of going on a boat, Max will have forgotten all about me. It’s not like he’ll even be here for long—he’s planning to return to New York at some point. “I mean, if we go, don’t let me hang off on the side of the boat or anything or pretend I’m in the movie Titanic.”
Max chuckles. “I like that you’re up for adventure.” He brushes my hair back from my face and leans in for a kiss. My stomach relaxes, because finally, we’re kissing.
I’ve wanted this all day and night. Because I’m not at my most mobile, and because I’m not sure if Max wants everyone to know we’re together—well, temporarily together, if we can even call it that—I refrained from pulling his face into mine during the rehearsal dinner.
Now, though, I work my hands into his hair and kiss him hard. The little soft groan that comes from his throat is so damned sexy, and it makes me want to beg him to not go on the boat and to stay and get naked with me.
He nips my bottom lip. I’ll bet he would stay if I asked. But that wouldn’t be fair to him or his brother. I break away, resting my forehead on his. Why am I breathing so heavily after only a couple of minutes of kissing?
“You’d better go,” I whisper.
He groans and presses his mouth to mine again in a hard kiss. My tongue slides against his, and he leans back, dragging in a breath.
“Lauren?”
“Mmhmm?” I glide my hand up his muscular thigh and try to sneak a glance to see if he has an erection.
“Yes, you’ve made me hard,” he says teasingly.
“How did you read my mind?”
“Because I think we’re thinking about the same thing.”
I let out a strangled groan. “I wish I hadn’t screwed up my ankle.”
“It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time.”
Do we, though? I shrug.
“You ever meet someone you feel an intense physical connection with? As if you’ve known them for a long time?”
“Mm-hmm. Sure.” I pause. What am I saying? “Actually, ah. No. Not until now.”
“Me too,” he says.
There’s a thick silence between us, and we study each other, almost warily. Even though I’ve only known Max for a couple of days, it does feel like we’ve been friends for years.
“Lust does strange things,” I say weakly.
He nods. “True.”
“Well, you should be going. It’s seven.” I glance at the clock on the bedside table.
“Right. Yeah. I’ll text you some photos.” He leans in for another kiss, this one soft and heartbreakingly gentle. “Get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow’s the big day.”
“Same to you. Although I assume you’ll all end up at a strip club after fishing.”
He scowls. “Hell no. I mean, I don’t know about Remy and them. But I won’t. That’s not my thing. I don’t pay for affection or attention.”
Because a man that good-looking and wonderful doesn’t have to. Something about how serious he is makes me grin. It’s possible Max is too perfect, but I’ll take it for now.
“Bye. I’ll miss you,” I whisper, as if I’m sending him off on a round-the-world trip.
“I like the sound of that.” He brushes his lips against mine and then climbs off the bed.
As he’s walking out, there’s a knock at the door.
“Oh, that might be Kate,” I call out. “Please let her in.”
The sound of several voices fills the other room of the suite, and I slide off the bed, hopping to the doorway on one foot. I’ve gotten quite excellent at hopping.
“Looks like a party,” Max says, standing aside as Kate, her mom, Mrs. Hastings, and Natalia Hastings walk in. A woman I don’t know joins them. She’s about my age and is carrying a large bottle of Cuervo Gold tequila by the handle. “Have fun, ladies.”
The door shuts behind Max, and I watch the five women bustle about. The moms unpack bags of crackers, cheese, and other snacks.
“Uh, what’s going on?” I say to Kate, who holds out her arm and guides me to the sofa.
“We thought we’d bring the bachelorette party to you. Oh, this is Sadie Garcia; we went to high school together. I’ve mentioned her before. She’s about to open a pirate cruise here on the island. She has her captain’s license, a real galleon ship and everything. Sadie’s spent six months off island, looking for the perfect ship. She finally found it.” Kate points to the woman I don’t know, who has hair the color of a strawberry and the cutest freckles sprinkled on her cheeks.
In fact, she looks like a naughty, curvy, grown up Strawberry Shortcake doll. Only she’s sporting a nose ring and wearing a black tank top with a female pirate on the front. A pirate with a knife in her mouth. I recall Kate talking about her one friend from high school and like her immediately.
“Salty Sadie’s Pirate Ship,” she says, setting the tequila on the table and walking over to the sofa. “No need to get up.” She extends her hands, and we shake. I notice her black matte manicure emblazoned with skulls.
“Great nails,” I say. “I’d love to get a photo of those and put them on my Insta account. Can I?”
“I knew you two would get along,” Kate says, rubbing her hands together.
My brain kicks into gear. “Oh God, a pirate cruise is perfect for social media. So many possibilities.”
Kate flicks on the TV. “I thought we’d watch movies and drink tequila—well, not you, of course, and especially not if you’re taking the pills—”
“I’m not taking any,” I said. “Only ibuprofen, this morning.”
“Great! Let’s fire up the margaritas,” Sadie says, clapping her hands. Kate’s mom pulls a blender out of a cabinet from the small kitchenette.
“Kate, you didn’t have to do this,” I say softly. “You could’ve gone somewhere without me.”
Kate grabs a pillow from the sofa and sets it on the coffee table. “You kidding? Why would I want to go out when I can hang with all of you here? All of my favorite people are in one place. Lift your leg. Like you’re a dog.”
Giggling softly, I raise my leg and cast. Kate helps settle it on the pillow.
Over the next four hours, everyone chats, snacks, and laughs. I have one weak margarita, enjoying the lime tang taste. Kate deftly drinks virgin margs, and no one says anything.
What if she’s pregnant? What will happen then?
If she’s worried, she doesn’t show it. Appropriately, we watch Bridesmaid
s and cackle like crazy. Oddly, we don’t talk about marriage or Damien and Kate. We don’t play cheesy games and no male strippers pretending to be pizza deliverymen show up.
Sadie and I map out a social media schedule for her pirate ship, and she promises to take me for a sunset sail when my ankle’s stronger, so I can get some incredible photos with my DSLR camera.
Kate keeps the tequila flowing for everyone but me, and I attack the snack plate. The moms entertain us with some of the racy pieces of gossip going around the island.
“Wait,” I shake my head. “The mayor runs a hot dog cart, and he’s into BDSM?” I double over in laughter.
“Live and let live,” Kate’s mom shrugs, and Mrs. Hastings nods enthusiastically. I love how progressive the moms are.
“The BDSM is only a rumor. And he’s quite handsome,” Sadie says, grinning wickedly, and we all whoop.
It’s as if the six of us have been girlfriends for life, despite the differences in ages and life circumstances. At one point, as everyone chatters and laughs, tears well in my eyes.
Kate’s so lucky to have this group of women here on Paradise Beach.
I’ve only ever had her—most of my other friendships have been superficial, because at my core, I’m a shy person. Strangely, I don’t feel that way here. There’s something about the whole vibe that makes me relaxed, as if I can let my guard down. As if people want to get to know me for who I am.
What if this was my life, surrounded by all this laughter and warmth and love?
“You okay?” Kate murmurs.
I nod and blink back the tears. Being here with all these women makes me realize how lonely I was in Europe. “Had a twinge of ankle pain. It happens sometimes.”
She squeezes my hand, and for the rest of the night, I pretend Paradise Beach is my home, that all this happiness and joy is my life and these are all my friends.
Thirteen
Lauren
I look at the black scooter, then at Kate.
“No fucking way.”
“L., I’m not asking you to use it the rest of your life and post it all over social media. You’re having a difficult time with the crutches and your dress. Now use this scooter and you’ll be much more comfortable. Please?”
“You’d rather have of your maid of honor wheeling herself down the aisle on a”—I flip the tag over—“a medical steerable knee walker than on crutches?”
Mrs. Hastings wanders over with a glass of champagne in hand. She was the one who’d brought the scooter in at the last minute. As in, thirty minutes before the ceremony.
It’s six at night, and the sun’s about to set. The ceremony will be perfect, except for me, the maid of honor.
I heave a sigh and look over the balcony, down at the wooden platform and the guests gathered for the ceremony.
“It won’t be that bad, my dear. Merely a few minutes,” Mrs. Hastings says. “And what’s a wedding without a little quirkiness?”
“What indeed!” cries Natalia, Kate’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. The five of us—Kate’s mom’s here, too—are getting ready in Kate’s suite. Both Natalia and her mom are drinking all the champagne. Kate’s not drinking and claims to be worried about throwing up due to nerves. I know the truth.
I’ve never seen my best friend this anxious.
“I once went to a wedding that happened on Halloween. The bride and groom dressed like a bride and groom and surprised everyone by getting married right there,” Natalia squeals. I blink, wondering how her story is relevant to the fact I’m about to wheel myself down the aisle on a scooter like a five-year-old on Christmas Day.
Somehow the pale blue of her hair exactly matches our chiffon bridesmaid dresses, and the effect is stunning. I would look okay, too, if it wasn’t for the black boot cast strapped around my foot and ankle.
I sigh and rest my knee on the scooter pad.
“Give it a try. Please?” Kate begs.
With a little push of my left foot, I surge forward on the tile floor of the suite.
“It’s kind of fun, I guess.”
Hell, this is Kate’s day, not mine. I need to stop being so selfish. “And at least I can steer. Check this out.”
I turn to the left with ease and don’t topple over. Success.
“It’s so much better than those crutches, Lauren.”
I’d been practicing on the crutches all morning and couldn’t quite get the hang of them. When I’d tried to wrangle them with my long, flutter-sleeve dress back in the room, I’d nearly fallen over.
Okay, I had fallen over, onto the sofa. Thank God only Kate was there to see that moment.
I maneuver the scooter around the suite’s small kitchen and glide back to Kate. “Fine. I’ll use the knee walker. I’ll leave my dignity here in the room.”
Natalia laughs and ties a little white ribbon to the scooter’s handle. “Oh, girl. It’s Paradise Beach. We don’t need dignity or do any kind of stuffiness here. We relax and have fun. We don’t give a crap what people think here.”
Kate comes over. “Really, though, you didn’t have to go down the aisle. If you don’t want to. You can sit in the front row. Maybe Max can carry you.”
I shake my head. “I’m being a baby. The pain’s tolerable today, and I like the idea of rolling down the aisle with Max at my side. I’m here for you. You need someone to stand up there with you. Plus, I have Damien’s ring.” I pat my metallic silver satchel.
Truth is, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
* * *
A lone classical guitarist strikes up Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, and at the first notes, tears well in my eyes. I didn’t expect to be this emotional at Kate’s fake wedding.
But the pale wooden wedding platform on the beach, the white canopy with the white tulle fluttering in the breeze, and the white rose petals scattered on the red carpet aisle—along with the sparkling blue Gulf of Mexico in the background—make my chest tighten.
Somehow the Hastings family, Kate’s mother, and Kate, have thrown together a heartbreakingly beautiful wedding in only a couple of weeks.
And Max. Let’s not forget about him. In his black tuxedo, he looks rakish, dignified, and gorgeous, all at once. Like if a Hollywood casting director suddenly walked to the altar and announced Max was chosen as the next James Bond, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.
We’re standing at the far end of the garden, waiting for our cue to walk toward the altar where Damien’s standing with the reverend.
“How are you feeling? You seem so much better today.” He turns to me, and his bright eyes steal the breath from my lungs. I swear, his eyes are the color of the water nearby.
I shrug. “Better. I have a high pain tolerance, apparently. It’s the best I’ve felt since the accident. I think I’ll be able to stay awake until at least ten tonight.”
I’d zonked out last night at ten-thirty, right in the middle of the second movie. That’s how relaxed I’d been around Kate and the other women.
He grins. God, I hope he hasn’t given up on wanting to hook up. Maybe the endorphins of sex will help heal my ankle. Worth a try, right?
“You ready to walk down the aisle?”
I nod, and my eyes go to the altar. Damien is chewing on his thumbnail. Every chair on the platform is filled. The strains of the violin tug at that place in my chest reserved for overly emotional television commercials and certain romance novels. It’s almost sunset, and the golden light is perfection. I glance down at our feet, only to see Chunky, in a bow tie, panting.
I wish I had my cellphone to capture it all, but I can’t manage Max at my side, a scooter, a satchel with the rings, and a phone.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Are you crying?”
I swallow the thickness forming in my throat. “Maybe a little. I didn’t think this would affect me so much.”
Of course, I can’t tell him I didn’t think a fake wedding would affect me at all. I assumed it would be more of a joke. But now I know how Kate feels about Damien the
entire ceremony seems fraught with angst and maybe even sadness, considering he’s leaving in a few days.
We still haven’t talked about that situation in depth, mostly because we haven’t been alone and because she’s had so many last minute wedding things to take care of. After the ankle incident, I felt like I was burdening her, so I’ve tried to remain upbeat.
Max takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and offers it to me.
“Thanks,” I whisper, dabbing my eyes. I’m not entirely sure what to do with it after that, but he takes it and slides it back in his pocket.
“Let me know if you need it again.”
“You’re a gentleman,” I whisper.
Max leans in, his lips next to my ear. “You look beautiful, by the way. The most beautiful woman here. Seriously.”
Leaning back, I shoot him a look, then glance down at the scooter. “Yeah, right.”
He kisses my temple. “I don’t even notice the scooter because your face is so pretty. I love your hair all piled up on your head like that. It’s extremely sexy.” He pauses, and his stare drops to my chest. “Okay, and your tits are pretty fucking incredible, too.”
I giggle. “Pervert.”
“Like you weren’t checking me out, too.”
“Maybe I was. Your butt looks good in those tux pants.”
Still grinning, we turn toward the minister, who nods from her vantage point about thirty feet away. Max rests his hand on the small of my back, and we’re off. We hadn’t rehearsed with the scooter, and I’m worried about making a total ass of myself.
What if I tumble over, into him?
Or into the guests?
What if I roll around on the carpet, crushing the delicate rose petals?
As I’m focusing on scooting myself down the short, carpeted aisle, Max keeps his hand on my back. It isn’t like I can thread my arm through his and scoot. I’m simply not that coordinated.
So I hold my head high and propel myself down the carpet, the white ribbon on the handle flapping in the breeze. Max’s hand is a steadying, firm presence, and my confidence grows by the second.