by Shayla Black
all kinds of flowers we found on the grounds, and topped that with folding white chairs we managed to rent. Thankfully, we barely need more than a handful. There are white covers on the chairs, tied off with bows that match the ocean waters.
Maxon found a tall lattice archway on the property, all but languishing in the garden. He and I moved it to this spot, overlooking the vast, crystal-blue Pacific that’s calmly rolling onto the white sand. We painted it, then everyone pitched in to decorate the arch with fragrant flowers that Keeley, Britta, and Harlow strung together. It looks perfect, like it’s meant to be here.
If everything works out for me and Britta, I’ll be in this very spot next week, staring down a similar setup, taking a deep breath before I—hopefully—slide my ring on her finger for good.
We park.
Two seconds later, Keeley darts up, makeup half-done, hand out for the punchbowl Britta rummaged from her kitchen this morning. “Thanks. Do you need help unloading the car?”
I snatch the plastic bowl back. “I got this. Go finish getting ready. Maxon and I can do the rest.”
“Oh, please keep him occupied,” she begs. “The ceremony starts in ninety minutes, and he’s asking me why we can’t just start now.”
Laughing at that is unavoidable. My brother has never been patient. For that matter, neither have I, and I can only imagine how I’m going to feel in seven days’ time, surprising Britta with the wedding she envisioned and wondering whether she’ll finally say yes.
Strolling inside, I set the bowl on the island and glance around at the covered dishes. The ladies cooked some last night. Maxon and I catered the rest, and the food in plastic dishes has already arrived. There’s also a cake on a stand waiting in the dining room and champagne chilling for the twenty-five guests.
Everything is heartfelt. And beautifully simple for this momentous occasion.
Maxon marches in, looking at his watch, obviously prepared to do next to nothing to keep busy…and stop himself from beating down Keeley’s door.
“You look awfully impatient. You going to make it, man?” I ask, brow raised.
He scowls at me. “Oh, the things I want to say to you right now…”
But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze flips over my shoulder, toward the folding glass doors that have been drawn open, to see Britta coming through, holding Jamie’s hand and wearing a pensive expression. When she realizes my brother is looking her way, it quickly becomes a strained smile.
Somehow, I hold in my grimace. I haven’t asked her if Makaio still thinks she’s marrying him. He doesn’t faze me. She matters. I should find out if she still wants to be the Hawaiian banker’s bride, but I’m afraid to hear her say yes. I still have seven days to convince her to pick me. I’m going to use every moment I can to my advantage.
Despite my brother giving me a hard time about how antsy I am with all the uncertainty in my personal life, I smile. “But you can’t right now. So sorry…”
He sends me a snarky glance. “Fuck you.”
I laugh, then glance around and realize who’s missing. “Thanks for not inviting the parents. I’m sure it was a hard decision for you to get married without either Mom or Dad present.”
“Probably not as much as it should have been. But after Keeley overheard Dad rant at me a couple of weeks ago, despite how peace-loving and forgiving she is, she refused to have him around. And Mom… Apparently Harlow told her I was getting married. She decided to head to Cabo with Marco so she could come back in a few weeks, all refreshed for our little sister’s nuptials.”
I want to say how much her decision completely sucks, though I’m hardly surprised.
“But”—Maxon goes on—“I’ve got the people who are most important to me here. Thanks for standing up with me, man.” He hands me a small, flat box from inside his pants pocket.
I open it to find a sleek brushed-silver keychain with my initials on one side. On the other, he engraved the words MY BROTHER, MY FRIEND.
I’m choked up that, despite my stupidity, we somehow managed to pick up exactly where we left off—very close. We exchange a manly hug, and I know that, regardless of what happens with Britta, I’ll always have Maxon and his lovely wife in my life.
“Thanks, man. I have something for you, too. I was going to give it to you next week but…” This seems like the perfect time.
I pull a business cardholder from my pants pocket. As a good Realtor and broker, I never go anywhere without them. At the back of my stack of cards, I find what I’m looking for, pluck it up, and hand it over.
REED BROTHERS PROPERTY ASSOCIATES is emblazoned across the top. It looks almost exactly like the cards we had back in the day. Updated, of course. I had them made when I ordered the invitations for my wedding. I’ve given this thought and I realize that, three years ago, I was on the right track with life. Then my stupid ass jumped off. Now I’m hoping Maxon thinks I’ve earned his trust back and that he wants to be partners again permanently.
I watch him scan the card, then look at me with a question in his eyes.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“You sure?”
“More than positive. I’m sorry for screwing everything up. I’d love to work with you again, build our business—the way we should have.”
Maxon’s face breaks out in a massive grin. “Hell yeah!”
We hug, slapping backs with manly thumps to disguise the fact we’re both more emotional than our masculinity allows in the moment. “Fantastic. We just need to take that terrible tarp off our sign next week.”
He laughs as he steps back, looking away until he finds his composure. “First thing Monday.”
“Get real, dude. You’re not coming to work on Monday.”
With a sheepish grin, he flashes me something wry and full of white teeth. “Probably not. Maybe Tuesday…”
I’m not holding my breath on that, either.
Before I can call Maxon on it, Harlow strides through the room, wearing a salmon-colored dress that’s almost not okay with me. Sure, it’s high-necked and there’s no cleavage. And technically it covers all the essentials—but barely. It’s so short I worry what I’ll see if there’s a stiff breeze. The waistband is a thick strip of transparent lace that accentuates her small waist. I can’t believe I’m looking at naked skin on my sister’s torso. There’s also no way to miss that she’s got boobs in this getup. I didn’t need the reminder.
“What are you wearing?” I ask.
“A dress.” Harlow looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Doesn’t she look pretty?” Keeley’s mom, Patty, asks as she starts putting some of the catered food in the bulging refrigerator.
I hate the dress but I keep my mouth shut because I like Patty.
I finally met her and Keeley’s stepdad last night. Instantly, I could tell they were great people, and I see from whom Keeley gets her beauty—and her red hair. They oohed and aahed over Jamie, then looked at their daughter as if the clock is already ticking. When Maxon joined in the chant for babies, I suspect I may have a niece or nephew this time next year.
We all bustle around, trying to get everything ready for incoming guests. Britta might have the softest voice of everyone here, yet she’s organizing the troops, scanning the site for any task that has been overlooked, and efficiently assigning it to the nearest warm body so nothing falls through the cracks.
With thirty minutes to spare, it looks as if we’re finally finished. Harlow and Patty head back to check on Keeley. Britta makes to follow.
I grab her wrist and pull her close. “You did good, angel. I know my brother and his bride appreciate you.”
She gives me a tight smile. “I was happy to help.”
She doesn’t seem happy at all.
I squeeze her hands. “What are you thinking? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I was just realizing…” She pauses and bites her lip. “This could have been us.”
“This? Getting married?” I pull her close
r. “Angel, it still can be.”
A little frown worries between her brows. It’s her thinking face. “We’ve been living together for a few weeks, and it’s been good. But I’m—”
“Britta, quick! Keeley needs another opinion.” Harlow sticks her head out the bathroom door and motions my angel into the all-female domain.
“One minute.” She turns back to me with something obviously on her mind.
“Hurry!” my sister shouts.
Britta glances at the ladies, then looks back to me apologetically. “I should go. I guess it’s urgent…”
If the crisis involved anyone but Keeley, and if it weren’t her wedding to my brother, I would gladly tell my sister to zip it until Britta could share her feelings with me. She seems ready to talk—or close to it.
“Just tell me one thing. Are you any closer to saying yes to me?”
She tilts her head and gives my question a long moment of consideration. “Since we moved in together, I’ve had days where I think we can’t try to relive our past. I’ve had other days where I see a possible future for us so clearly it makes me want to cry.”
But neither side has won over her heart and mind for good or we wouldn’t still be having this conversation. “And where are you now?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said when we talked last. It told me so much about you and why you find trust so difficult. I needed that, so thank you for trusting me with your secret. But the reality is, you’ll never be able to control how I make you feel. Are you truly ready to handle that? Or would you eventually push me away again, like you did before?”
It’s a fair question. I’m glad we’re getting to the root of her hesitation. “I’m—”
“Britta!” my sister shouts again. “Hurry! Guests are starting to arrive, and we may have a problem.”
“I have to go,” my angel murmurs.
And just like that, thanks to Harlow’s big mouth, the moment is broken.
“We’ll talk after the ceremony?” I ask, but it’s not really a question.
She hesitates for a moment, like she wants to say something—do something—important right now. But ultimately, she nods, then turns away and disappears into the master bathroom with all the ladies and the cloud of hair spray.
With a curse, I head outside. The officiant is strolling along the edge of the lawn. He’s a tall man with crow’s feet, laugh lines, and the sort of belly that says he likes good food and good times. He’s wearing a big smile, a red-and-beige Hawaiian-print shirt, and a pair of khakis, sans shoes.
“Lono?” I ask.
“Griffin?” He’s clearly guessing, too.
I get a positive vibe right away. Keeley did well.
“Yeah. Just Griff.” Normally, I don’t like when other people call me by my full name. It reminds me of my Dad shouting at me as a kid to do better, be better, crush everyone—even Maxon.
“Is your bride here?”
“With the ladies.” I try not to wince. “She still doesn’t know about our wedding.”
He shoots me a puzzled glance. Yeah, he thinks I’m a crazy bastard. I probably am. But instead of saying that, he cocks his head. “Everything will work out. I have a sense for these things.”
I have no idea what “a sense” means, and it’s probably bullshit meant to calm me. But I still smile, shake his hand, and confirm that he’ll be here next Saturday morning for what I’m hoping is another Reed wedding.
After a little more conversation, guests start milling around the lawn, and Lono says it’s time for the ceremony to begin.
With a nod, I head into the house to round everyone up. Britta, Harlow, and Patty all emerge from the bathroom, looking perfectly coiffed. Jamie looks bored and comes running at me full speed. His expression says he’s hoping I’ll have something more male and amusing to occupy him.
With a laugh, I pick my boy up and hold him close. I ruffle his hair and promise to set him up with toys as soon we finish marrying Uncle Maxon off.
When I look up, Britta is watching, silent. She looks teary-eyed and moved. Love is all over her face, and I hope like hell some of that is for me.
But there’s no time to talk now or to find out what’s rolling through her head. So I grab Maxon, now pacing like a madman, and haul him outside.
Behind the rows of chairs, we pause until Harlow and Britta catch up and take Jamie by the hand. I lead my brother to the altar, then file in behind him, hands clasped in front.
The processional music suddenly sounds over speakers hooked up to Keeley’s wedding playlist. Harlow gives Jamie a little nudge. He’s carrying a ring pillow with the bands tied in a bow at the top. We’ve coached him to walk in slow, measured steps to deliver the goods on a waiting table. But he’s a boy, so he runs to the altar. When he realizes that everyone is looking at him, he tosses the pillow vaguely toward Maxon’s feet and darts to the first familiar face he sees, Keeley’s mom, and buries his head in her skirt.
The small gathering laughs. With a grin of her own, Harlow starts down the aisle, clasping a simple bouquet of lilies, roses, and plumeria. Besides the brief, skin-showing dress, she looks lovely. I wonder if she’s thinking about her own wedding, just a few weeks away.
Britta comes down the aisle next, carrying a similar bouquet. She’s wearing roughly the same soft peachy-pink as Harlow, but her dress sits just off her narrow shoulders and has a thick strip of lace at the bottom. It’s a little shorter than I’d like, and I glance around the gathering to see who among the male attendees might be checking out my woman. Thankfully, I don’t see anyone I’ll have to kill. Just a lot of smiling people and couples holding hands. Happiness floats everywhere.
Finally, a slight breeze kicks up, and the music changes. The familiar strains of Andy Williams’ version of “Ke Kali Nei Au,” also known as “The Hawaiian Wedding Song,” fill the air. Yes, this is the moment. Leave it to Keeley to choose a tune that’s traditional yet offbeat. It’s relaxed and romantic and meaningful because I believe they will love each other longer than forever.
For them, this tune is perfect.
Then Keeley strolls toward us carrying a bouquet centered by a giant stargazer lily, ringed by soft pink plumeria, and surrounded in white blooms. Her pristine, gauzy dress has spaghetti straps and a handkerchief hem that flirts with her shins and flows around her with every step of her bare feet like the most graceful hula dancer’s.
The smile on her face beams with how blessed she feels. It’s more profound than any expression I’ve ever seen on her. Or possibly any bride. She might not have waited long for her day to come, but she knows she’s marrying the right man. A glance at my brother floors me. I’ve rarely seen Maxon emotional about anything, except maybe Super Bowl XLII when the Giants upset the Patriots. But he’s wearing his naked love for Keeley all over his face and looking at her as if he’d make a lei out of stars for her if he could. It might sound sappy, but the devotion flowing between them is a stunning sight to behold.
Lono starts the ceremony quickly. Her mother gives her away. Keeley and Maxon speak their vows, light candles, and stare into each other’s eyes.
It’s funny how a few words can be so meaningful. Those same words spoken in another order, in any other context, would have a totally different meaning. But with a few sounds and syllables, bolstered by the feelings in their hearts, they tie themselves together forever.
I’m really happy for them. And really fucking envious. I glance at Britta, wondering if I’ll be full of joy—or grief—this time next week. I can’t tell from looking at her face…but she’s teary. She’s moved by the ceremony.
When Lono pronounces Maxon and Keeley husband and wife, they pause, stare at each other as if they can hardly believe their dreams have come true, then move in for a soft kiss. They cling together, and the embrace seems to go on and on until Keeley’s stepfather finally clears his throat. When they break apart like guilty teenagers, everyone laughs again.
“Maxon and Keeley Reed, every
one!” Lono shouts to the revelers.
As the gathering claps for them, Maxon takes his wife’s hand and they dash back down the makeshift aisle.
It’s done. They’re married. I’m so happy for them.
Since Rob couldn’t hobble up the aisle to be Maxon’s other groomsman, I do double-duty, escorting both Britta and Harlow away from the altar. I squeeze my angel’s hand, and she looks over at me again with barely repressed emotion haunting her blue eyes.
