Deeper Water_Once and Forever 3

by Lauren Stewart

  Yep, everything was perfect, including the bride. Andi looked stunning, her hair swept up in the twist I’d already spent a good half hour fighting for. I was shocked she still had hair, I was yanking on it so hard. The other two women had given up, probably because they knew exactly what that hair was and wasn’t capable of—a lesson I’d learned after only a few minutes. But by then, I had something to prove. Plus, Andi and I were about to be family…kind of. Almost? Well, she was about to become a member of a family I hoped to someday be a part of, even if that meant I’d have to occasionally spend time with the other members of the family, Anna and Renee.

  Thankfully they weren't here with us right now, so I could enjoy my almost-family without any drama. Other than the drama of Andi’s hair.

  “Now I understand why you always wear it in a ponytail,” I said as I jammed a few more bobby pins in it.

  “Back off, Laney!” Andi snapped. When she saw me flinch, she gasped and clenched her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. That totally came out wrong. What I meant was, don’t touch it or all your hard work will explode, and we’ll have to start over.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  “You’re the bride, Andi,” Emilia said. “You don’t have to apologize. There are only two times in a woman’s life when she can say and do whatever the hell she wants to: on her wedding day and when she’s in labor, so she should take advantage of them.”

  “What about when she’s PMSing or going through menopause?” I asked.

  Emilia considered it. “Good point. Okay, there is one day, one or two hopefully-not-too-long-or-you’re-getting-the-epidural days, three to five days per month from approximately twelve to fifty-five, and however long it takes to go through”—she used air quotes—“the change.”

  “And after a bad breakup,” Sara added helpfully.

  “Crap! How could I have forgotten that one? Is that all of them?” Emilia waited while we all tried to think of others. “I’m going to call it. So, if you’re ever bitchy when none of those exceptions are occurring, then face it—you’re just a bitch.”

  “Thanks for clearing that up, Em. Appreciate it.” A few tendrils of curls framed Andi’s face in an it-looks-accidental-but-was-hard-earned twist. But what made her stunning was the nervous and excited flush on her cheeks and the honest joy in her smile.

  “I’m so happy for you,” I said, adjusting the shoulder strap of my bridesmaid dress. From the second I’d met Andi, I loved her. It was impossible not to. Knowing how happy she made Hayden made it even easier.

  Emilia, her matron-of-honor and another woman I had instantly adored, handed me the glass of Champagne I’d put down on the vanity. Sara downed the rest of hers, grimaced, and reached for the bottle.

  “Sara,” Emilia snapped. “A little control would be nice. We’re not here to get drunk.”

  “I wasn’t…”

  I didn’t know Sara very well, partially because we hadn’t spent that much time together, and partially because she seemed to be completely uninterested in letting anyone get to know her. All I knew was she had great hair, looked like a tiny human Barbie doll, worked with Andi at Emilia’s virtual assistant company, and her two friends kept a close eye on her. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust her, more like they knew if they broke eye contact for even a second, she’d get into trouble.

  “Seriously,” Emilia continued, “Can you please behave for one day? I’d like to put off the intervention until after the ceremony, at least.”

  “I wasn’t—” Sara bit her lip, her eyes glossy and hurt-looking. “I just noticed it wasn’t very cold. The ice is melted… I was going to go get more, so Andi wouldn’t have to drink warm Champagne on her wedding day.” She put the bottle down on the dresser and picked up the bucket, tilting it so we could see the water in it. “I wasn’t going to drink the whole bottle, Emilia.”

  Emilia glanced at Andi and sighed. “Sorry.” I didn’t know if she was apologizing for what she’d said or that she was being a little bitchy on a day she wasn’t allowed to be.

  “It is a little warm,” Andi said after taking a small sip. “It’d be great if you could get some ice, Sara. Thanks.”

  Trying to stay out of the drama, I sat down on the bed as Sara passed by me silently. No smile, no expression, not even anger. One foot in front of the other, eyes staring straight ahead. It was as if as soon as she’d turned away from Emilia, all the fight in her died. Unfortunately, if I reached out and wrapped my arms around the poor girl like I wanted to, I was fairly sure things would only get more awkward.

  16

  Laney

  As soon as the door closed behind Sara, Andi gaped at Emilia. “Holy shit, Em! What’s up with you? I didn’t even know you could be that snappy.”

  “Yeah, well…” Emilia sighed and looked toward the door Sara had just walked out of. “I sat next to her for the eight-hour-long plane ride. And do you know what she said to me?”

  Andi and I waited, both assuming it was a rhetorical question. We were right.

  “Nothing. She didn’t say a single word that I didn’t drag out of her. ‘Yes,’” she mimicked. “’No,’ and one ‘great,’ I think. Although, I probably misheard her. That’s it.” She picked up a tube of mascara, unscrewed the top, then shoved the wand back into the tube repeatedly as if she were stabbing something. “You’d be snappy too if the friend who sits in the same office you do for three days a week talks more with the UPS guy than with you.”

  I wondered if I should take the mascara away from her.

  Before I could, Emilia leaned closer to the mirror, opened her eyes really, really wide, and brushed the wand over her top lashes. “And when she does talk to me, I get the only three words I ever hear coming out her mouth nowadays. Stupid me, I’d hoped being stuck on an airplane would give us a chance to really talk about what’s going on with her, but she completely shut me out.”

  “So you decided being a bitch to her would make her open up to you?” Andi asked.

  “No,” she whined, “but it should’ve made her react—be a bitch back to me, at least. All I want to do is help.”

  It wasn’t my place to say anything. But today was supposed to be about Andi and Hayden, not Sara or Emilia. “She’s afraid.”

  Both women looked at me, surprised.

  “Of me?” Emilia asked.

  I tilted my head side to side. “Kind of, but not. She’s afraid of what you think of her. Or, more importantly, of what you’ll think of her if she actually tells you what’s wrong.” I took a sip of my lukewarm bubbly. “I mean, I could be—and probably am—wrong, and it’s definitely none of my business. But when someone you love doesn’t tell you something, it’s usually because they’re afraid you won’t love them once you know the truth.” Something I’d learned from Carson, actually. One of the many things.

  “Damn it,” Emilia said. “So I’m basically proving her right—that I’ll freak out if she tells me what’s going on. Well great, now I feel awful.” She raised an eyebrow, looked at Andi, then flicked her head toward me. “She’s smart. Why didn’t you tell me how smart she is?”

  Andi smiled. “Have you met her boyfriend? Anyone who can handle that man has to be brilliant.”

  “Actually,” I said, “being with Carson takes more patience than intelligence.”

  We all laughed at that, both of them agreeing if women really were smart, we would’ve given up on the opposite gender long ago.

  When someone knocked a rhythm on the door, Emilia went to open it, pulling Sara into a bear hug as soon as she saw her. “Oh, thank goodness!”

  “Uh…it’s just ice, Em.” Using the metal bucket as a shield between them, Sara peeked around Emilia’s arm and mouthed, Is she drunk? to us. Andi cracked up at the expression on her face.

  “Can we pretend I haven’t said anything to you yet today? Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen. No judgment or prying. Promise.”

  “Okay,” Sara said before mouthing,
Seriously, what’s wrong with her? “It’s all good.” Should I call a doctor?

  “I mean, yes, today is one of the days I’m allowed to be a bitch—massive PMS.” Emilia finally let go of her and pulled the ice bucket from Sara’s clenched fingers. “But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That’s what husbands are for. Right, Andi?”

  Andi swallowed and dabbed the skin under her eyes to wipe away any tears before they ruined her makeup. “I won’t know for sure until five o’clock, but sure, sounds reasonable.”

  While Emilia and Andi joked about balls and chains, Sara and I…didn’t. At least there was something we could bond over—being single. Except I wasn’t actually single. I was in some kind of weird couple-limbo between being in a committed right now relationship, and a committed forever relationship. Both of those being completely different than being committed, something I imagined would happen to me eventually.

  “So, Laney…” Emilia looked at me for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “Am I allowed to ask when you and Carson are tying the knot?”

  Sara gasped. “Oh shit, Em! You can’t ask that!”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s like asking someone if they’re pregnant!”

  “It’s fine.” No one heard me over the chorus of arguing voices.

  “That’s not the same thing at all.”

  “Yes, it is.” Sara dropped the bottle of Champagne into the bucket Emilia was still holding, grimacing as she twisted it to drive it deeper into the ice.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “How is it your business what they do?”

  “How is it your business what I ask her?”

  Andi pointed at me. “Guys, she’s trying to talk.” They didn’t hear her either.

  “Plus, I only asked if I was allowed to ask. I didn’t actually ask.”

  “Seriously?” Sara yanked the bottle back out of the bucket and refilled her flute…to the brim.

  “Think she knows the Champagne wasn’t in there long enough to get cold?” I asked Andi loudly.

  “Oh, she knows. She just doesn’t care.” Andi stared at her two friends with a clenched jaw.

  “How would you feel if I asked you a bunch of personal things in front of other people?”

  “Since we’re friends, I’d be fine with it,” Emilia snapped. “But I guess not everyone is like that.”

  “It’s fine. Really,” I said louder. “I don’t mind.”

  “Would you please stop yelling at each other?” Andi yelled. I held back from laughing at the irony. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be freaking out today, so I get to decide what I want to freak out about. And I don’t choose this crap.”

  Both women mumbled an apology.

  Andi ignored them. “Sara, if you want to fight with someone, please do it on another island.”

  Emilia laughed dismissively. “Maybe you should join a fight club or something—deal with those anger iss—”

  “And Emilia,” Andi said with just as much irritation as she’d just shown Sara, “just because we’re all friends does not mean we should, or do, know everything about each other. Everyone is entitled to some privacy.”

  “Exactly!” Sara threw up her hands. “Laney, feel free to tell Emilia to shut her pie-hole. It’s totally none of her—”

  “Zip it!” After Andi pantomimed squeezing Sara’s mouth shut, Sara shut up and downed half her Champagne in one gulp, somehow managing not to break angry eye contact with Emilia.

  “I’m going to talk now, and you two are going to be quiet until further notice.” She carefully placed her hands over the twist I’d worked so hard for, checking to make sure it hadn’t fallen. “First of all, I agree with something Sara said. Laney, you should definitely tell Emilia to ‘shut her pie-hole’ but only because that expression is hysterical, and today is my wedding day, and I want to laugh and be happy. Second, I also agree with something Emilia said. Just asking a question doesn’t make you evil.”

  Andi’s smile broke through any past or future faux pas. “And, you know, if Laney wanted to answer her question…”

  “Nice segue.” I laughed. Andi joined me, followed by Emilia and eventually—after a quick, silent peace accord between the two women—Sara did too.

  “Alright, alright,” I said. It made sense they were curious. Carson and I had been together longer than Andi and Hayden had, after all. “But I don’t want a big discussion about it because it’s a day to celebrate you and Hayden.” Not worry about Carson and me. “Overall, I’ve never been happier with anyone and, from what he’s told me, neither has he. But we’re still trying to figure out our future.

  “We’ll have one,” I added quickly, “a great one…together. But we have some work to do before we…take the next step…” Man, was there a lot of hand movement in this explanation. A fair amount of slow, not quite understanding nods from them, too. “You know…whatever that step is…and whenever that step is. It’ll be right…for us.”

  “Totally,” Andi said, the others nodding and telling me what a good idea that was. Then someone suggested a toast.

  I should’ve been a politician. I’d just said a whole bunch of absolutely nothing. But, unlike most politicians, the nothing I’d said actually made sense to someone.

  “Oh no!” Sara emptied the last drop of Champagne into Andi’s glass. “How many more bottles should I get?”

  17

  Carson

  I used to think only women went in for all these outdated traditions. Everyone all dressed up and predictably terrified—even the people who weren’t getting hitched.

  I’d never admit this to anyone… ever, but I was actually into it. Historically I was the guy who made it to the bachelor party but always had a reason to skip the actual wedding.

  My favorite excuse? “I’m really sorry I can’t be there, but… I don’t want to go.”

  It was as if once the sun came out, I remembered what a shitty idea marriage was and why I couldn’t respect anyone who fell for the scam. So the only wedding I’d ever actually gone to—sober—was Hayden’s first cliff dive into it. Ironically, at that one, we’d both known it was wrong. I’d just been the only one with enough sense to say something about it. It ended up not to be my wisest decision, though, considering how my brother was determined to go through with it and was really good at hiding how badly he didn’t want to.

  Since I wasn’t as smart as he was, I’d ended up alone and hated by anyone who’d been within hearing distance of my big mouth. Thankfully, most of the guests had thought the honest-yet-completely-inappropriate toast I gave was a joke. Unthankfully, Hayden had known better and, after almost punching me, he’d stopped himself, deciding instead to wait until after everyone had gone to punish my face. He also gave me the silent treatment for a few months. I think that was worse than the broken nose.

  But today was different. I had nothing but warm and gooey thoughts about the whole thing. Disturbingly gooey thoughts. I’d fallen for Andi just like everyone else who met her did, and I knew how happy she made Hayden. The true kind of happiness, none of that fake shit most couples slathered on and pretended was real.

  I didn’t even mind having to pretty myself up according to my older brother’s orders. Long pants, though? On an island? What was he thinking? At least they were linen, like the shirt. Hopefully the evening breeze off the water would keep us from sweating to death.

  Hayden and I were hanging out, doing nothing in his room with Emilia’s husband Rob.

  “Are you even allowed to have a bachelor party after the wedding?” I asked them. “I knew I should’ve just made it a surprise. That’s the last time I’ll ever pay attention to what you want. Did Andi have one?”

  “You’d have to ask her.” Hayden had been holding his index cards for at least an hour, sweating nervously all over them. They were probably blank anyway. Anyone who knew anything about Hayden knew he’d memorized his vows weeks ago.

  “Maybe I will,” I grumbled.

  The women had
been camped out in Andi’s room since dawn, doing women things and talking about women stuff.

  What did woman talk about for that long? Me and the other two dicks had run through every possible topic in an hour. Now Rob and I were sitting around staring at the walls, pretending not to notice how anxious my older brother was. And forcing myself not to give him shit about it—after all, someday I might be the guy wringing my hands together and checking to make sure the ring was still there every forty-five seconds.

  Shit. I’d already been that guy. If all went as I wanted it to, I was going to be that guy again. And again. And, if Lane ever let me knock her up, I’d be that guy at least one more time—probably more.

  I needed to get out of there before I lost it.

  “Well, men,” I said, “I’m going to go grab us something to drink. Stretch out my legs a little.” I.e., flee the awkwardness and not be there if Hayden or I had a breakdown. After promising my brother—again—that I wouldn’t get either of us drunk, I headed for the bar.

  * * *

  Since I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the room, I leaned up against the bar and enjoyed the first swig of icy beer.

  “Buy me a drink?” a woman said behind me. American accent. Shit. I would’ve bought everyone in the place a drink, but the last thing I needed now was to deal with a recently divorced or unhappily married woman trying to find her groove again.

  Before I had a chance to come up with a nice way to tell her I didn’t know where her groove was, she said, “Have you ever wondered why designers never put pockets in women’s clothing?” She kept talking, not caring I’d turned around and recognized her. “My theory? It’s a plot to keep us dependent on men. Or at least make us think we are. Same with heels. And spanks. And strapless anything.”

  “Sara, right?” My shoulders relaxed when she nodded. She wasn’t divorced or unhappily married, and she looked like she knew exactly where her groove was. Although…