And it’s a gorgeous one at that. The air is crisp, and the sky is clear. No worries about rain so far. When I first arrived and saw the cabana over the walkway and the sage green sashes on the chairs, I teared up myself. But my emotions have been running very close to the surface since yesterday.
The sound of ocean waves hums in the background. The owner of the inn, Madison, set aside a room for us to use as the bridal suite. Mia’s mother continues to fuss over Mia’s hair, using her skills as a stylist to give her daughter an elegant updo.
As we help her with her dress, I think we’re all trying not to bawl. Even Madam Tulard had tears in her eyes at the last fitting, saying it was her best creation yet. And that says a lot for a woman who supposedly designed a dress for someone in the royal family. I’ve yet to dig out the truth of that one, but I’m determined to find out—another great detail for that column I’m fighting for.
Marty said the paper’s board of directors decided to take a serious look at my column proposal when they found out I had an offer on the table from US Hockey Magazine. So I’m hoping that means my dream is about to come true.
So what if I’m a failure at romance? I can still write about this quaint beach town that embodies it in so many ways. In a way, I could say I’m having a love affair with Sarabella, and that’s enough for me. Really and truly, it is.
“Forget a thousand words. That’s a face worth ten thousand.”
Mia’s voice snaps my attention back to the present. I glance at her reflection in the mirror before refocusing on attaching her veil in her hair like Madam Tulard showed me. “It’s an emotional day.”
She starts to turn around to look at me.
“Stay still, or you’ll mess it up.”
She lets out aharrumph. “Fine. Don’t tell me what happened. I’ll just imagine the worst and plot Luke Jameson’s demise in the meantime.”
For the first time today I smile. I may not have romantic love in my life, but I have a plethora of people I adore and consider my family. “Make sure they can’t trace it back to you. I can survive another romance failure, but I cannot lose my best friend who’s like a sister to me.”
Uh oh…I started the waterworks.
Mia waves her hand in front of her face. “Oh no…I love you, Soph, but your timing really sucks sometimes.”
I grab a tissue from the vanity and help her dab her eyes. “I’m sorry. Just know that I love you and…and I will always make sure I have backup mascara.”
She giggles as she hugs me.
Madison pokes her head in the door. “All the guests are seated. Ready when you are.”
I lock eyes with Mia, and we nod at the same time. Her mother and I finish arranging her veil, then touch up our lipstick before leaving the room and heading toward the breezeway. In a few minutes, I’ll take my place under the wedding arch, followed by Mia, who will take her place next to Ethan, her soon-to-be husband.
And everyone will live happily ever after. The end.
But it’s not the end. And, as wonderful as all that sounds, I’m trying not to freak out about seeing Luke sitting among the guests. That is if he’s still coming. I have no idea since we’re not talking anymore—he made that clear on the beach last night.
I squash the surge of tears trying to push their way out again. I’ve cried enough over that man, and today is about celebrating love and marriage.
The music shifts to a soft melody—my cue to start down the aisle. Ethan and his brother look so handsome at the other end of the breezeway. A subtle floral scent fills the enclosure, emanating from gorgeous arrangements of lavender orchids mixed with white peonies.
I take my place up front, proud of myself for not searching the guests for one hockey player in particular, and keep my eyes focused on Mia’s entrance. The music changes to a modern rendition of the wedding march as she makes her appearance.
At Ethan’s soft gasp, I smile. All the frustrations, hiccups, and delays fall away in this moment when everyone stands and watches the beautiful bride walk toward her groom.
Toward her future.
The thought sends a pang through me, which grows when I notice Luke in my peripheral vision. He’s standing behind the seats, dressed in a light gray suit that contrasts with his burgundy shirt and dark brown hair.
He’s gorgeous. My heart jumps to high speed so fast I almost gasp. Because he’s not looking at Mia, he’s staring at me, devouring me from afar. I close my eyes long enough to compose myself, then lift my chin and focus on Mia and Ethan.
Today is all about them and their new life together. And that I can be happy about.
The reception is a smash hit. Ironically, I think moving the entire event to the Sandpiper Inn and the Turtle Tide worked out better than our original plan. I suspected it might.
I scan the room filled with smiling faces, laughter, and couples dancing—I think Mia and Ethan have danced to every song. The taste of champagne lingers on my tongue as I revel at the sight of them glowing with their happiness.
I’m also daydreaming of the article I could write about a beautiful event like this if I get my column. Dominic and Madison could definitely expand their joint businesses into a venue for destination weddings. I can picture a two-page spread with pictures and everything.
