Forever by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  FOREVER

  by the Sea

  TRACI HALL

  Copyright © 2016 Traci Hall

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design ©Christopher Hawke - CommunityAuthors.com

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  A Note From the Author

  About the Author

  By the Sea

  AMBROSIA by the Sea

  KARMA by the Sea

  PUPPY LOVE by the Sea

  MASQUERADE by the Sea

  HOLIDAY by the Sea

  FESTIVAL by the Sea

  DANCING by the Sea

  FOREVER by the Sea

  BLUE CHRISTMAS by the Sea

  RETURNING HOME by the Sea

  BLOSSOMS by the Sea

  BILLIONAIRE by the Sea

  SANTA BABY by the Sea

  Chapter One

  “I need to get the hell out of here,” Sinead Monroe whispered, her voice as raspy as a fifty-year bartending veteran. She tugged at the bodice of her Stella York wedding gown, feeling bound and chained by the yards of tulle and silk specifically created for her dream wedding. Too heavy. “I can’t breathe.”

  Her sister Fianna joined her, gorgeous in a knee-length fitted dress in crimson and black silk. They had the same red hair, more auburn than the copper of their mother’s, the same pert nose. She was taller and thinner, the bitch, and smart too. Single.

  “You can’t be serious.” Fianna’s tones dropped to a sub-whisper as she stole a peek at the other ladies in the room.

  “You’re my maid of honor.” Sinead tilted her head away from the mirror. Her long hair curled down over the diamante bodice in a side-shoulder ponytail while Fianna’s was up in a messy bun. “You have to help me.” She saw her sister calculate and then conclude that their mother would never aid in a speedy retreat. And it was unfair to expect Christian’s sister to be an ally.

  “Now is not a good time to change your mind.” Fianna gripped Sinead’s wrist just above the diamond and silver cuff. “Cousin Misty is murdering the piano keys out there.”

  Sinead zeroed in on the music, identifying the wedding march—their second cousin’s expertise leaned more toward Siouxsie and the Banshees than Mendelssohn’s.

  Her trembling body was going to burst out of the corset constraining her. “I’m serious as a damn heart attack, Fianna.”

  “I see that. Breathe. In, out. Repeat. God, you’re bright red. Clashes with your freckles.” Fianna turned on an elegant black heel. “Mom, get Sinead some water, will you?”

  “Traitor! Bringing Mom in.” Sinead scanned the small fitting room in Saint Peter’s Church for an emergency exit. They were downstairs, so there wasn’t even a window to break out of.

  “Think of Christian.” Fianna steered her toward the vanity seat—a tufted velvet stool for one. “The hot, hunky guy waiting for you at the end of the white carpet.”

  Sinead was thinking of Christian. What if she’d steam-rolled him into this circus of a wedding? Well, not exactly a circus. But a Valentine’s Day wedding for 150 guests with a formal dinner following, the bouquets a stylistic combination of red calla lilies and crimson roses, the fancy attire cuff links and shined shoes. Romantic centerpieces with candles and chocolate—the culmination of a year of planning.

  Crispin’s Hotel in Ft. Lauderdale was a lovely venue; she’d tried for the Breakers in Palm Beach but it was booked years in advance for swapping vows over Valentine’s. And she’d always known she’d get married on Valentine’s Day. To Christian. So why can’t I breathe?

  “What’s the matter?” Madge asked, handing Sinead a bottle of water. Her mom wore a mother-of-the-bride gray silk pantsuit to walk her daughter down the aisle. “Why are you so flushed?” Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked from one daughter to the other then back at Sinead. “Are you going to throw up?”

  Her stomach rolled at the suggestion.

  “You only had two glasses of wine last night. In bed by midnight.” Her mom folded one finger down for each spoken fact. “Plain bagel for breakfast and a salad with chicken breast for lunch.”

  “Cold feet?” Fianna spoke softly.

  Her mom’s body snapped like a broken rubber band and she clutched Fianna’s bare arm. “It’s too late for that,” she said between clenched teeth, not looking at Sinead.

  She’d spent last night with her mom and sister, watching movies. Dreaming of how special today would be, becoming Mrs. Christian Sharp. Sinead wrenched the top off of the water bottle and threw it, hard, into the trash can. The resounding echo didn’t do a thing for her nerves.

  “What if it doesn’t work out? What if he decides he doesn’t like me?” Sinead, light-headed, perched forward on the stool before the mirrored vanity and pressed one hand to her stomach. She sipped the water, then set the bottle down next to the poof of scented powder for her throat. “What if?” She and Fianna exchanged a look. What if she ended up a serial divorcee like their mom?

  “He’s not like that,” Fianna assured her. “You aren’t either. You have monogamy in your DNA.”

  “How’s it going over here?” Collette’s melodic voice grated instead of soothed as she joined them in front of the vanity. “Are we ready?” Her almost sister-in-law was as beautiful as Christian was handsome. Dark, slender, brunette and also wearing a designer crimson dress with black heels. Next to Fianna, Collette was Sinead’s best female friend.

  “Um, she just needs a moment.” Fianna stepped protectively in front of Sinead to walk Collette toward the slightly open door. The two women peeked out at the wedding guests waiting in the church pews then Fianna looked back at Sinead and gave her an encouraging thumbs up. “Christian has the biggest smile, waiting for you.”

  Her palms grew damp.

  Madge put her hand on Sinead’s shoulder and squeezed. Tight. “Get it together, Ms. Sinead Madeline Monroe. You may not change your mind five minutes before the wedding. You and Christian have been in love since kindergarten.”

  Sinead swallowed over the ache in her throat. She’d known from the first time he’d shared his juice box with her that they were meant for one another.

  Despite growing apart after his family moved to New York during high school, they’d found each other again in college and became inseparable. They each had management careers they enjoyed, and now Christian wanted to start a family of their own. She’d wanted to be married first and he’d agreed. Sweet-natured. Loving and kind. They were two peas in a pod.

  Her head swam.

  “You live together,” her mother hissed in her ear. “You really think there are going to be any surprises?”

  Sinead focused on the beads over the toe of her silver and lace shoe. Torrents of uncertainty slammed against her judgment. Her mother had been married five times—each of them with bright hope that led to disappointment.

  “What is with you?” Madge dropped to her knees and forced Sinead to look her in the eyes. “Tell me the truth.” She covered Sinead’s hands with her own. “Did Christian cheat on you? Because that is the only reason I can think of for you to embarrass him at the altar.”

  “Christian would never cheat,” Collette interjected as she pull
ed Fianna toward Sinead, her chin held high.

  Sinead groaned as a rush of adrenalin made her mouth dry. She sipped her water again. “I know that.”

  Now. But what about later? In ten years when he got bored counting the freckles across her nose? Angel kisses, he called them. “I don’t want to embarrass him.” She wiped her hands on a tissue. “I’ll be fine.”

  “What’s going on?” Collette tapped her toe.

  “She’s worried Christian might not love her enough for forever.” Fianna touched the onyx pendant at her throat, her green eyes apprehensive.

  Was it too much to ask for a guarantee?

  Sinead closed her eyes, thinking of his arms around her. He had a way of making her feel safe in the middle of a storm.

  Get down the aisle—he’ll be there. Waiting with that half-smile that brought her to her knees. But what about down the road, when her thighs jiggled and she had gray hair? What if she had sagging ass syndrome? Or a beard? Would he want her then?

  “Don’t be ridiculous! He’s never loved anybody but you.” Collette smoothed a curl over Sinead’s ear. “Oh, sweetie, you really don’t look good.”

  “I can’t breathe.” Sinead pressed down at the pulse point at her wrist. “Feel this!”

  “Calm down before you pass out.” Collette gave the clock on the wall a pointed look. “Three minutes.”

  She closed her eyes and counted to five. Cousin Misty missed a note of the wedding march, hitting something high and off key instead.

  “There has to be a reason,” her mother insisted. “If he didn’t cheat, and you love each other...”

  “We do!” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I love him more than anything. We want to start our family.”

  “Don’t cry,” Fianna ordered. “It took me an hour to do your liner just right.” She handed Sinead a box of tissue. “Dab. Gently.”

  Sinead did as instructed, wishing she understood her feelings. Her temples pounded. Her skin itched. God, would she have hives? “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  Collette scowled, her gorgeous dark brown brows narrowing over her brown eyes. “Maybe you’re having a hard time because you’ve been planning this for so long. The dress fittings, the caterers, the venue.” She gave an elegant shoulder shrug. “A year’s worth of Wednesday lunches. It’s a lot of stress wanting everything to be just perfect. And now, it’s almost over.”

  True, Sinead thought. Every waking minute for the past twelve months had been about this wedding.

  “It will still be perfect after the ceremony, and the lovely dinner you’ve planned. Lobster and filet mignon. Individual red velvet cupcakes.” Her mom nodded with a relieved expression. “I think Collette is right. God, why don’t we have any wine in this room?”

  “A hundred dollar surcharge to have food or liquid, other than water, in here.” Sinead took a cautious breath and her stomach settled for a half-flip instead of a full-on somersault.

  “I would have given you the hundred bucks,” Madge said, smoothing the lapels of her fitted suitcoat. “I can’t believe this is where you decided to cut costs.”

  “It wasn’t about the money, Mom.” She leaned forward on the chair, her hands on her knees. Wine hadn’t seemed necessary when she was floating on love.

  “Mom, stop. Sinead, you tackled wedding plans like a professional event planner.” Fianna peered down at Sinead. “Now is supposed to be the fun part.”

  “We have fun. I love him.” Sinead’s anxiety threatened to choke her. Was this just a release of nerves?

  “He loves you,” Collette said in a reassuring voice. “So get out there.”

  Sinead picked up a brochure for the wedding facility and waved her hot face with it like a fan. It wasn’t helping.

  Dizzy, she felt her body sway from her perch on the stool. She had to get her ass up and walk down that aisle.

  Christian was the love of her life. He made her feel complete.

  They finished each other’s sentences, knew what the other was thinking. Maybe he’d know what the hell was wrong with her.

  “I need Christian,” she said, her voice hoarse. She would walk over hot coals for the man she loved.

  How could she think otherwise?

  “I know you do. Hold your flowers and let’s go get him.” Her mother lifted Sinead by the elbow. Fianna handed her the wedding bouquet. Stunning, long-stemmed red calla lilies and red roses, rosy pink tulips, white freesia with lacy fern tied together with a black velvet ribbon.

  The smell of the lilies hit her belly like food poisoning and she tilted into Collette. Fianna’s eyes were so wide they didn’t look real and Sinead reached for her sister even as her mother said, “Oh, no, Sinead? Sinead!”

  Chapter Two

  “That’s one way to get out of marrying me.” Christian’s voice, sensual and warm, rained down on Sinead like a sun shower in springtime. His thumb caressed hers, his palm clasped over her hand, anchoring her to the present.

  My wedding day. A day I’ve dreamed about forever.

  “What did you say?” Sinead struggled to sit up and realized she was strapped down on a stretcher in an ambulance. No sirens, which boded well. This wasn’t a nightmare, either. Christian’s touch was real. “What happened?”

  She remembered Saint Peter’s church decorated down to the individual candelabras in red, white, pinks and black. Her sister, his sister, her mother. Her stomach balled. 150 guests waiting in the pews with only her cousin Misty to entertain them.

  “You fainted. Out cold for fifteen minutes.” Christian’s brown eyes exuded love as he studied her face.

  “Fainted?” She focused on his expression. God, he was so handsome. Brown hair so dark it was almost black, but not as harsh, softened the hard planes of his cheekbones and smooth-shaven jaw. Within a few hours it would be stubble and bristly to the touch.

  He skimmed his thumb over her wrist.

  “I’m so sorry.” She’d been unable to breathe and even the memory made her suck in a panicked swallow of air. But she’d wanted Christian…

  “Don’t be, hon. Collette said you had a major panic attack.” His tone was light, but she heard the hurt beneath his words.

  “It was awful,” Sinead admitted, tightening her hold on Christian’s hand. She would never willingly cause this man pain. His fingers, brown and tan against her pale skin, closed over hers. “I, I,” I still don’t know what the hell that was all about.

  “About getting married?” He and his sister had an identical eyebrow arch—who knew until now?

  “All I could think about was getting to you.” She shifted to get comfortable, finally noticing the medic who sat above her head between the stretcher and the driver. “Hello.”

  The medic returned her smile. “Hi. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Confused,” she admitted. “Panic attacks don’t usually mean a trip to the hospital via ambulance.”

  “You fell,” the medic explained.

  Sinead reached up with her free hand, refusing to release her hold on Christian, and felt the soft bandage on her left temple. “What is this?”

  “You hit the table when you fainted,” Christian said. “Bled all over the dressing room.”

  “What?” She didn’t remember any of that.

  “I heard your mom scream. I know I wasn’t supposed to see you before the big moment but I reacted—sorry,” he shrugged and continued. “It looked like a murder scene. Horror movie stuff with spatter on the walls.” His words were joking but his grip on her palm tightened.

  Sinead’s belly whirled. She didn’t do so good at the sight of blood. “Stitches?”

  “Steri-strip until we get to the hospital, then the doctor will decide to either stitch you up or send for the plastic surgeon,” the medic said.

  “Plastic surgeon?” Her tone squeaked.

  “You must have hit the sharpest corner of the table when you went down,” the man observed with a low chuckle.

  “Most brides-to-be
don’t require safety tape on the table edges.” Christian’s touch quieted her, soothed her. “You could have hit your eye, Sinead. I’m sorry that it hurts, but you were really lucky.”

  Lucky? The incident seemed surreal. Sinead imagined a jagged gash from her temple to her jaw—she calmed as she touched the small bandage.

  “We’ll have to postpone the wedding,” Christian said. “Unless you want a black eye in our pictures? What a tale to tell at our fiftieth anniversary.”

  Relief that he still wanted to marry her flooded through her and she shut her eyes so he wouldn’t see it. Then, remembering how much they’d wanted a nice ceremony, since they were only planning to do this once, she said again, “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries. Dad’s going to have the dinner anyway. I mean, we paid for it all so it should be used. Any excuse to party.”

  Sinead appreciated his attempt at levity. “What must people think?” she whispered.

  “What do you care about that?” Christian smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “You look beautiful, Sinead.”

  “That is true love, right there,” the medic said.

  “Folks were invited to a wedding where the bride was taken out on stretcher.” Sinead felt terrible, as if she’d already failed.

  Christian loosened his tie. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  She knew he meant it. Knew that she was so fortunate to have found her soul mate and then, after his family had moved away, to find him again? His dad was on his third marriage, as was his mom. But her mother’s marriage record was worse! What were she and Christian thinking?

  Fianna’s relationships lasted six months at most—and she claimed to like it that way. The statistics on marriage and divorce were not encouraging. Happily ever after was no guarantee and remained elusive for over sixty percent of participants.

  She and Christian had a great relationship. But now with kids planned in their future, it was only right they get married.

  “Relax,” the medic said. “Your blood pressure’s going through the roof.”