After weeks of going back and forth, Elle finally decided that she wanted the full beach wedding after all. This afternoon, she and Colin, their baby girl, Audrey, her best friend, Celia, and the entire Reyes clan are all barefoot in the white sand, next to the crystal-blue water, attempting to navigate the barely-controlled chaos of the wedding rehearsal.
“I will hold her, Elle,” Fortuna is saying as she reaches to scoop up Audrey from where the little girl is toddling and clinging to the short skirt of Elle’s white sun dress. Fortuna bounces Audrey in her arms, shimmying and swaying away from Elle and Colin to the beat of tropical music that drifts from the nearby pavilion of the hotel.
“Okay… okay…” Elle mumbles, attempting to divide her attention between her daughter and the wedding coordinator, who’s reading off a tablet and pulling members of the bridal party into position. “Just… like… don’t give her any more of those candies. I need her to nap for the rest of the afternoon so she won’t be fussy at the dinner.”
Fortunatsks, flitting her hand in the air, and Elle turns her exasperated gaze to Colin, who’s standing in front of her, holding both of her hands, and staring at her with an enamored expression.
“Okay, Best Man!” Noelle, the wedding coordinator, hollers at Joaquin, who’s seated in the front row of white chairs next to me while he patiently waits for directions. She waves her hand toward herself. “Come back, we’re going to practice the processional again.”
Joaquin slides his gaze to me before tucking his chin to kiss my neck. “See?” he murmurs into my ear. “I think we got this right the way we did it. I don’t know why anyone needs to practice walking in a straight line ten times.”
I laugh quietly and stroke his hair as he stands up. “Just humor her,amor. We’re almost done.”
He winks at me, stepping back toward the sandy aisle between the rows of chairs to follow Celia, Isla, Malachi, Graciela—the third Reyes sister, whom I only met this week—her husband, Auggie, Lili, and Ernesto, whom Colin chose to stand in for his brother, Archer, since poor Archer is still in prison for drug problems.
Fortuna is now swaying with Audrey just behind the rows of chairs, and Colin is standing patiently at the front watching the two of them with that same enamored smile. Noelle stops at each couple in the bridal party, tugging their elbows to space them precisely, and I take a moment to tilt my face up toward the sun, letting it warm my face while a hot breeze sweeps in off the ocean. The lively music from the pavilion is faint, but audible enough to add to the entire tropical paradise vibe of the resort, and I’ve never been to a beach before, but now I’ve decided I coulddefinitelybe a beach bum.
“Okay, ready, everybody?” Noelle calls, standing off to one side of the chairs. I turn my face away from the sky to glance at her and then toward Joaquin as he offers the crook of his arm to Celia. “Andgofor the Best Man and Maid of Honor.”
“I amnotamaid,” Celia protests with a snarky tone. “Learn this.Knowthis. I wouldn’t even be wearing a dress for this ifEllehadn’t insisted upon it.”
As though underscoring her declaration, she drops her casual hold on Joaquin’s arm and offersherelbow for him to hold—which he does, compliantly and pleasantly, albeit with a light chuckle.
Way at the back of the line, Elle does a good-natured roll of her eyes. “Thanks for being a good sport, Celi.”
“You’re welcome!” Celia chirps, now practically dragging Joaquin down the aisle toward a smirking Colin. When they reach the front, she lifts her foot and pushes it against Joaquin’s ass, shoving him to the opposite side of Colin.
“Hey!” Joaquin protests, dusting the sand off the back of his navy, linen shorts. “I’m an innocent party in all of this. I don’t care if you wear a dress or not, and I’m not the one who called you amaid.”
Celia snickers and shrugs as she takes her place on the other side of the altar of sand, and Joaquin turns to me, shaking his head and wearing a playfully annoyed face.
“Okay, Isla, Malachi,” Noelle calls, ignoring the shenanigans and waving her arms to get their attention, “you need to start walking when they reach the halfway point of aisle.”
“Oh,” Isla mumbles, picking up her long, breezy, floral print skirt with one hand and tugging on Malachi’s arm with the other. “Sorry, Noelle.”
Noelle simply continues to wave her arms through the air as though she’s conducting a symphony orchestra. “No worries, no worries… now, Graciela and Auggie.”
Graciela tilts her head placidly, her bob of ebony ringlets swaying to one side as she dutifully holds Auggie’s arm, who dutifully leads her down the aisle. Having only met them this week, I curiously assess their body language with each other and mentally compare it to Isla and Malachi. I know Graciela’s marriage was arranged, but I haven’t heard about any similar tumultuousness between her and Auggie like the kind Isla and Malachi experienced. Auggie seems to be a quiet man who’s extremely preoccupied with work, but who’s also accommodating and polite to his wife. Graciela, on the other hand, is a total socialite, trophy wife, and kept woman. She’s just as beautiful as her sisters, and Auggie is a commonly handsome man, and they appear to get alongswimmingly—but also seem to lack the fire, passion, and soul-deep devotion present in not only Isla and Malachi, but also Joaquin and me.
I’m still absently studying their body language when they reach the end of the aisle, and Auggie dips his head to kiss Graciela’s temple, which prompts her to subtly shimmy the side of her hips against his groin. That causes me to smile. They clearly just have a—
POP-POP-POP-POP-POP
My blood runs cold, and my heart all but stops.
Screams and wails and cursing ascend above the carefree tropical music, and everything suddenly seems to slow down in the aftermath of a sound I am all too familiar with. I rise from my chair in one, swift movement, turning toward the sound just as a pair of large, strong arms wrap around my body and drag me to the ground.
“Holy fuck,” comes the voice of Joaquin, his mouth close to my ear while he pins me to the sand. His heart is pounding against my back, and I lift my head to crane my neck and peer around chair legs to see what the hell is going on. “Where the fuck did that—”
“Elle!”
Colin’s flip-flop-clad feet are pounding against the sand, kicking it up behind him as he sprints up the aisle. Amidst the chaos, I can hear him panting and pleading under his breath, “No. No. No, God, no.”
Malachi is hollering from somewhere for he and Isla’s typically inconspicuous security detail to get the women and little Audrey to a secure location. I’m still trapped under Joaquin, unable to see much beyond feet and sand, and I shove against his chest, throwing him off of me.
“Getup, Joaquin!” I shout, scrambling to my feet and leaping around the chairs to reach where Lili, Ernesto, Celia, and Isla are still standing gathered in a nervously shifting cluster.
Through their legs, I see Colin on his forearms and knees, his body bracketing Elle’s—who is lying on her back, completely and frighteninglystill.
