by Elise Faber
Sera pushed herself up, lifted the shade on the window to glance outside.
An airport. A quiet terminal.
So she’d slept through the entire trip, not surprising she supposed, considering how little sleep she’d gotten the previous night and how short the flight to Vegas was.
“Tate?” she called softly, padding toward the back of the plane.
Maybe he’d slipped into the bathroom.
But the space was empty.
Frowning, heart sinking, she moved to the front of the plane, to the voices she’d heard.
But though there were several people near the cockpit, none of them were Tate. The flight attendants, both men in their early twenties, were in deep conversation with the pilot, also a male.
Conversation that cut off the moment they caught sight of her.
Sera’s throat burned because though the conversation had stopped, she had heard one thing.
“I’ve never seen him like this. So upset that he was all but tearing his hair out. All over a woman—”
“Have you seen Tate?”
Three heads shook.
“He said we shouldn’t wake you,” the first attendant said. His name was Ben, if she was remembering correctly.
“But there is a car waiting for you,” the second, David, said. “And he left you this note.”
She nodded, gut twisting and knowing instinctively that they weren’t in Vegas, that they weren’t going to elope at the chapel with the Elvis impersonator they’d chosen.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking the envelope.
“Your bags are in the car,” David added.
Another nod, shaky legs as she descended the stairs.
It wasn’t until she was in the back seat of the black sedan that Tate had obviously arranged that she opened up the envelope.
I can’t do this.
Four words that tore her heart to shreds.
Four words that weren’t a surprise.
Because hadn’t her mother predicted this exact scenario?
Sera’s eyes burned with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Instead, she closed her lids, laid her head back against the seat, and let the misery sweep through her.
She’d been stupid.
So fucking stupid.
Because she’d fallen in love with Tate again . . . or maybe she’d never stopped loving him.
And either way, all that emotion got her was another broken heart, nursing it as she sat alone in the back seat of a quiet car. She’d been living in a fantasy world for the last few weeks, but reality had decided to bitch-slap her back into real life.
How fitting.
It took Sera just over twenty minutes to figure out that perhaps her perception of events wasn’t quite right.
The first clue was the scenery outside her window.
Ocean . . . and not her Northern California version.
The next was the envelope next to her on the seat. The envelope she’d failed to notice because she’d been so busy convincing herself that Tate had left like all the other men in her life.
Hesitantly, she reached for it, tore open the flap.
I couldn’t just take you to Vegas when that’s not what you really want.
The pointed spears of ships’ masts appeared like spikes shooting out of the ground as the car drove over a bridge. White and blue and red dominated, punctuated by the deep azure of the ocean, the snowy froth of the waves cresting.
“Almost there,” her driver said, glancing back at her in the rearview. “You might want to open the box.”
“What—?”
But then Sera saw the third clue that she might have misjudged this situation horribly.
A small takeout box was perched on the floor.
She reached for it, opened the top . . . and then the tears fell.
Inside was an intricate dessert—a shiny dark chocolate globe topped with raspberries and white chocolate twirls and gold leaf.
“Here’s a fork.”
She sniffed, wiping away the tears, and used it to crack open the sphere.
Her ring was inside.
Not the one she’d bought to impress her mother, but the one that was on her Pinterest board.
Her Pinterest board.
Abby.
Or maybe Heather. Or Rachel. Or—
The car pulled to a stop, and the door opened.
Or maybe all of them.
As in, all of her friends were there.
Abby grinning down at her, holding a bouquet of pink hydrangeas and sunflowers. Rachel with a garment bag in her arms, Bec and Heather both with envelopes, though Bec’s was of the manilla legal variety and Heather’s was small and white and matched those that Tate had been leaving for her. Even Kelsey was there, holding up a cell with CeCe’s smiling face on the screen, her still-pregnant friend now past her due date and not able to travel.
She grabbed the takeout box and hopped out of the car. “What the hell is happening?”
Abby took the box from her hands then tugged her toward the hotel behind them that Sera had missed initially. “Come on,” Abby said. “Sunset is in less than an hour.”
Her friends bustled her into a room, and the next fifty minutes were a frenzy of activity. Kelsey curled her hair, Abby did her makeup, with plenty of waterproof mascara to accent her lashes, and Bec produced a prenup that Tate had already signed.
“He let me write it up. No conditions, no complaints,” Bec said then smirked. “I like him.”
Last, Heather handed her the envelope from Tate.
I want you to have everything you’ve ever wished for.
She sniffed.
Abby snatched the little slip of paper from her hands. “Don’t you dare cry.”
“Heaven forbid she ruin her mascara,” Heather teased, Abby’s obsession with the running black makeup well-known.
“Shut up, she needs to look absolutely perfect in her makeup.”
Rachel put the bouquet in Sera’s hands. “Ready?”
She glanced at her friends, sniffed again. “Thank you.”
“Stop,” Abby said, but she was sniffing, too. And so was everyone else in the room, CeCe included.
“No fair,” she said through the phone. “I can’t hug you.”
They all laughed, pretending to include CeCe in a group hug before filing out the door and down to the beach.
Which was literally steps away.
The sun was making its descent, gilding the waves in gold and orange and red. And there on the beach, somehow surrounded by the gorgeous triangular altar she’d imagined—the flowers exactly as she’d pictured, stood Tate.
He was barefoot, just like her.
In navy slacks and a white button-down.
He was so gorgeous it took her breath away.
“Hi,” he said, meeting her at the edge of the sand and taking her hand.
Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Tate,” she said. “How? Why?” How had he done this all in a couple of hours? Why had he bothered to do it at all?
“Because you wouldn’t have asked.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Because I love you.”
Her breath caught.
“Because I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” He tugged her forward, toward the officiant standing in front of the altar. “I know we’ve done this all sorts of mixed up. I know that we’re new and still figuring things out together, but I’ve known one thing for certain in my heart since the moment I met you.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“That you were special, sweetheart,” he said. “And if you’ll have me, I won’t be stupid enough to let something as special as you go.”
Sera stared into his eyes, saw the truth there. “This is crazy,” she said, hurrying to add when his face fell, “But then again, that seems to be how we roll. Because you’re right about us doing this all sorts of mixed up. You’re right that it’s been stupidly fast. But . . . I’ve spent the last year wanting you, a
nd”—she bit her lip, released it—“I think I want to spend the foreseeable ones figuring things out with you.”
He smiled. “You think?”
A shrug. “Well, we do have that really good prenup from Bec, so no harm, no foul, right?”
They laughed and there under the setting sun, with her friends behind her, the man she loved at her side, and the waves and sand and salt-tinged air, Sera finally said,
“I do.”
Eighteen
Sera, Three Weeks Later
She let herself into her parents’ house for the first time in forever, knowing that her mother always took tea in the garden at this time in the morning. Her ode to the historical romance novels Sera loved, or at least that was what Sera liked to pretend.
In reality, her mother never did anything that wasn’t calculated and calibrated to bring about the biggest bump to her social standing.
In this case, her garden had become a place of envy for their circle—exotic flowers and koi fish, meandering footpaths and hidden tables topped with white tablecloths and pristine crystal glassware. All of which created a ton of work for the staff and yet if they—the gardener, the maids—weren’t fanatical about the garden’s upkeep, her mother would lose her shit if she saw the faintest hint of dust or fingerprints or even dead flower petals.
Her mother wanted to live in a world surrounded by perfect beauty.
She just never took into account that oftentimes the most beautiful things in life came from the imperfections.
Sera sighed and walked through the patio, along the twisting path that would lead to Sugar’s favorite bench. Leaves were placed strategically so that her mother would be aware of any approaching visitors and could assume the proper position—a book she never actually read perched on her lap, hair smoothed, ankles crossed demurely.
Today was no different.
Except that when her mother saw that it was Sera, her blue eyes flashed and she jumped to her feet, book dropping to the ground with a soft plop.
“I’ve called you a hundred times,” she snapped. “What in the he—”
“Mom,” Sera said sharply. “Sit.”
“What—”
“Sit down on the bench, shut your mouth, and for once in your life, listen to me.”
Sera had never talked to her parents with such a tone, even when she’d been a teenager rebelling against modeling or filming commercials, her opposition had always come in the form of something quieter.
Usually escaping to Abby’s house until the opportunity had passed.
Sugar froze, mouth half-open, but the retort that was no doubt sitting on the end of her tongue never came. Instead, miracle of all miracles, she sat.
Sera sucked in a breath and held out her hand. “This is the ring I wanted.”
Her mother’s brows pulled together.
“Not the ostentatious diamond, not the giant wedding, not all the attention,” Sera said. “I just wanted someone to see me for me and . . . to love me for me.”
“That’s—”
She put up a hand. “Before you tell me that’s not realistic, I just want you to know that I found that with Tate. He sees me as more than a sum of my parts an-and he loves me.” Sera touched her chest. “Me for me. Me without makeup or pretense. Me with makeup and dressed to the nines. He doesn’t care that I’m obsessed with books or Desperate Housewives. He loves the person I am inside and—” She sucked in a breath, let the truth fall from her tongue. “And I have you to thank for that.”
Sugar smiled.
And so Sera told the truth. She’d been thinking about this for the last several weeks, considering whether she wanted to confess anything to her mother. But in the end, Sera had wanted Sugar to know.
She hadn’t wanted any shadows hanging over her and Tate.
She wanted to build a future with him.
Which meant that she wanted her mother to know her part.
“You pushed us together,” Sera said, watched as Sugar’s smile widened. “Just not for the right reasons. Tate agreed to marry me because he overheard you saying that I wouldn’t be able to get him down the aisle on my own. He did it to save me, not because he loved me.” She bent and retrieved the book, setting it on the bench. “Not at first anyway.”
“What does it matter why he married you?” Sugar took Sera’s hand. “The point is that you snagged Tate Conner. Everyone has been talking about it for weeks. You wouldn’t believe how many visitors I’ve had asking for details.”
Sera slipped her hand free. “It matters because this is the rest of my life. Because I want someone who loves me for all of the right reasons.”
“Pish. Your stock is higher now. If things don’t work out with Tate, you’ll be able to marry—”
“Does my happiness not matter?”
Sugar rolled her eyes. “No one’s happiness matters.”
A calmness washed over Sera as she finally understood, or if not understood then at least she finally had clarity. Because her mother would never change. Nothing would ever be more important to Sugar than society and money and making other people jealous.
Not even her only child’s happiness.
She shook her head. “Thank you for the push with Tate.”
“Of course, darling,” Sugar replied. “And now that you’re back from your honeymoon we should plan a party to celebrate. I can get the—”
Never. Going. To. Change.
Her mother was never going to be who Sera wanted her to be.
And, know what? That was okay.
Sera had made her own family. She had her friends and now she had Tate.
So in the middle of Sugar’s exposition on the perfect caterer, Sera leaned in, kissed her on the cheek. “Goodbye, Mother.”
Then she turned and walked away.
And didn’t spare a glance back.
Sera wasn’t going to waste another moment of her HEA on the past.
Her future was ahead of her and she was going to grab on to it with two hands.
Epilogue
Kelsey
Kelsey pushed out of the door of Bobby’s, the local bar she and her friends liked to frequent, and paused for a moment, enjoying the crispness in the air.
It was one of those perfect end of summer evenings, warm during the day, but the promise of fall in the air. She snuggled into her hoodie and smiled, thinking about how happy her brother, Sebastian, and his fiancée, Rachel, had been that evening at dinner.
Of course, a lot of that had to do with the fact that Rachel was sporting a diamond large enough to blind Kelsey . . . and the rest of the Earth’s populace.
But, seriously, she was happy for them both.
Sebastian and Rachel were perfect for each other and they deserved all the happiness in the world.
She slipped out of the opening and let the door start to close behind her, but before she got too far, Sebastian caught it. He slid through, dropped an arm around her shoulders. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging him off. “Go enjoy your fiancée. It’s not your guys’ fault that my flight is ridiculously early in the morning.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know you’re not going to win this argument, so just accept my chivalry. It’s my brotherly duty after all.”
“You sell it so effectively.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“No, you shut up.”
“No—”
They broke off with grins and Kels let Bas sling his arm around her neck, tugging her into a hug. “I love you, brat,” he told her.
“Well, I don’t love you.”
“Rude.”
“You know it.” But she hugged him back before leading him to her car. “I am really so happy for you both, you know that right?”
“Of course I do, Kels,” he said.
They spent the next few minutes discussing the wedding—the date and location were set, as was the food—and the whole crew of females, inc
luding Kelsey were going dress shopping the following week.
“It sounds like you’ve got it pretty much sorted.”
Bas smiled. “Rachel’s a force of nature,” he joked. “Seriously, though, she wanted to ask you this, but I preferred to do it myself.”
Kels frowned. “Ask what?”
“To be a bridesmaid. We were hoping you’d be in the bridal party.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “No pressure, of course, but we’d love to have you in the wedding.”
Her lips curved. “I’m happy to play whatever role you want, Bas.”
“Flower girl?”
She shot him a glare. “Really?”
“So bridesmaid then?”
Since they’d reached her car, she unlocked the passenger side door and tossed her purse on the seat. “I’d be honored. As long as that’s what you guys want.”
He nodded. “It is.”
“Great.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Then count me in. Thank Rachel for me?”
“Done.”
Kels rounded her car, paused with her hand on the driver’s door handle. “Oh, besides Devon”—their brother—“who are the other groomsmen?”
“We’re keeping it small.” He shrugged. “Heather is going to be the maid of honor, you a bridesmaid, and Devon is going to be my best man.”
She smiled. “And Clay is going to be the other groomsman.”
Bas shook his head.
Kelsey had opened her mouth, ready to tease Bas about choosing to include Rachel’s boss over his when her gut sank.
Small bridal party.
Two on each side.
One of which was not Clay.
And her brother had only had a few close friends growing up. None of whom she could see in the wedding party.
Except one.
Fuck.
But she was worrying for nothing. Bas hadn’t talked to Tanner in years as far as she knew. They hadn’t talked in years. They couldn’t have—
“Who is it then?” she asked through stiff lips.
Because it couldn’t be. Her brother didn’t know about them. She’d made sure of it. They’d kept things on the down-low and . . . then she’d nursed her broken heart two thousand miles away in college.