She squeezed back and exhaled a trembling breath of her own. Here she was, swimming in a big warm pool of love with a bunch of strangers and a man she barely knew. Despite everything her book club friends told her last night, despite the fortuneteller’s woo-woo wisdom, despite sun and sand and surf, she knew in her heart of hearts she was being a fool. Letting herself care this much when the end was so near was hot fudge crazy sauce with stupidity sprinkles. And the longer she bathed in his loving attention, the more that ending was going to hurt. But she couldn’t cut their connection now, not with Matteo’s fingers laced through hers, his gentle presence holding her safe.
Seven more days.
Beneath the arch, Zora spread her arms wide. “By the powers invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you married. Smooch it up, my darlings!”
With a whoop, Green Bride lifted her new wife and spun her, sand flying. The guests cheered. Nearby beachgoers joined in, including a damp Labrador who barked joyfully and dropped his sodden tennis ball at the newlyweds’ feet.
A tear spilled down Danielle’s cheek—then another, and another. The combination of doggie cuteness, new love, and impending loss squeezed her ribs so tightly she could barely breathe. And of course Matteo noticed. Sweet and attentive, he noticed every detail about her, even the ones she tried to hide.
“Hey now.” While the other guests drifted toward the canopy tent against the rock wall, Matteo gathered her into his arms. “What’s wrong, bella?”
“It’s all a bit too much.” She clenched her fists, hating the wobble in her voice.
He stroked her hair. “The wedding? God, I should have thought—how long has it been?”
“Six months.” Jason left the day after Christmas. She’d never forget his smug expression when he declared, “I didn’t want to ruin the holiday for the kids.”
Strong fingers kneaded the back of her neck. “And how long were you married?”
“Sixteen years.”
“That must be so hard. And I’m an insensitive idiot.” His soft lips caressed her temple.
She fisted his linen shirt. “You’re not. You’re wonderful.”
He rocked her until the sting of memory faded, soothed by the soft swoosh of surf and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. A perfect, poignant moment, all the more precious because it couldn’t last.
Finally, he tipped her chin up and smoothed her damp cheeks with his thumbs. “Want me to take you home?”
Behind them, a cheer arose. She glanced over his shoulder and saw sunlight glinting off raised glasses.
“No, I want to stay.” She dried her tears with her floral scarf, then took his hands. “Let’s go congratulate the brides.”
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday Evening
Theflickeringcampfiregildedeverything—cool sand beneath Danielle’s bare feet, Matteo’s wind-tossed curls, and the burnished wood of her new guitar. After a reception dinner of Hawaiian barbeque served from a food truck, the guests gathered around the fire pit to sing. She’d been slightly horrified when Matteo excused himself and returned a moment later carrying her guitar. Seems he’d conspired with her book club friends that morning, sneaking it into his SUV while Cari distracted her. But soon she relaxed into the pleasure of blending her voice with the others and strumming along with the impromptu band: three guitars, a cajon drum, and a mandolin.
The whole circle of friends and family joined in on the final chorus, a ringing, joyful noise that subsided into whoops and applause. After the newlyweds doled out a last round of hugs and waved goodbye, the revelers began to gather their belongings.
Danielle swallowed a rising bubble of melancholy as she set her guitar back in its case. “Tonight was perfect. I wish it didn’t have to end. There’s something magical on the beach tonight—the fire, the music, the sea…”
Matteo slid his arm around her shoulders. “The night is young, bella. There’s still plenty of magic left.”
After saying their goodnights, he loaded the guitar into his car, then held the door for her.
She climbed in. “What’s next? You want to make out in the back seat?”
“I’ve got something better in mind, if you’re game.” He cranked the ignition and eased the SUV toward the surf line.
Her hand clamped over his knee. “What are you—”
“Notice anything about the water?”
Her grip tightened. “Only that it’s getting nearer.”
He chuckled and removed her clawed fingers. “It’s low tide.” Cutting to the right, he rounded the rock wall and pulled into their secret cove. “Look. We have the hollow to ourselves.”
