Forever by the Sea

by Traci Hall

“Poor Laura and Ken.” Her green eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Why did they cancel?”

  “I don’t know for sure…Collette was being very secretive about it.” Sinead sat back, remembering in painful detail how fast things could go off schedule. “I bet it fell apart under the pressure. Weddings are stressful.”

  “Not for you, and not this time. It’s all done.” Fianna brushed her hands together and then straightened. “You know, Collette might be able to capitalize on this kind of wedding—the ready-made ceremony for the bride and groom on the run.”

  “Nice. We’ll have to tell her.” Sinead’s stomach rumbled. “Let’s eat—I’ve got chicken salad.” She got up and walked to the kitchen.

  “I thought you were on a diet?” Fianna asked.

  “No-fat mayo, no bread.”

  “No flavor?”

  “It’s not bad, actually. I added turmeric.” Sinead pulled the container from the fridge, along with a pitcher of unsweetened iced tea.

  “The yellow stuff?” Fianna grabbed plates and brought them to the dining room table. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it other than curry.”

  Sinead had put on some weight in post-wedding binge eating and had to take it off to zip up her dress. “I’ve got three more pounds to lose.”

  “Yeah, you’re such a porker.” Fianna stuck her tongue out at Sinead. “Please tell me you have some sort of bread in the house?”

  Sinead sighed. Bread was her Achilles heel. Loved it in all forms. “Wheat okay?”

  Her sister nodded. “And bring the full-fat mayo too.”

  Placing the items on the table next to her sister, Sinead scooped some chicken salad sans bread on her plate. “You and Collette’s dresses should be done Tuesday. Thanks for being so flexible on the color. I know aqua isn’t your favorite.” They’d found summery sheer aqua blue dresses that went to the knee, sleeveless, and nude heels for less than a hundred bucks.

  “You’ve put to rest the nightmare myth that the bride has the only nice dress. And now I’ve got three cool outfits that I didn’t have to pay for.” Fianna slathered mayo on both pieces of bread before filling it with the chicken salad.

  “The crimson was my favorite,” Sinead said. “But completely impractical for a summer beach-side wedding.”

  “Agreed. It’ll be perfect for holiday cocktail parties.”

  “When I think of how much time I spent planning every last detail, I admit I get a little sick. I could’ve been reading a good book. Or taken a ceramics class. Learned French.”

  “Now there’s a practical use of time.” Fianna bit into her sandwich and her eyes widened with appreciation. She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “This is fabulous. Doesn’t taste diet at all.”

  Not with the bread and extra mayo, anyway. “Have you talked to Mom about this Jerry thing?”

  “Sort of.” Fianna shrugged. “But why shouldn’t she date, you know? She’s not even sixty yet. Talk about bad luck. Maybe us Monroe women just aren’t meant to have an easy time with marriage. We could be cursed.”

  “I don’t believe that.” That was the last thing she needed was a family curse. Sheesh. “I can’t believe that.” Before this opening at the Breakers, a freaking miracle, she might have, but not anymore. “If there was a “thing”, it’s broken now.” She gestured at Fianna with her fork. “You don’t have to worry.”

  “Damn straight,” her sister said, cheeks flushed. “I’m not getting married. I have a great career and would rather spend my money on happy hour and new shoes than a bunch of whiny kids.”

  “You say that now…”

  “I mean it.” Fianna stared at her, daring her to argue.

  Sinead decided not to push. If Fianna was hooking up with Xavier it was obviously not something she wanted to talk about, or take seriously.

  “So,” Fianna asked, leaning her elbow on the kitchen table. “Who all made the cut for the wedding invites?”

  “Just family and close friends. Christian’s mom and her husband, his dad, Alina, Sydney, John, the wedding party takes six.”

  “You still have all those gifts?”

  “In the spare room.”

  “You aren’t the least bit curious?”

  “No. I would feel so guilty opening them without actually being married that I just can’t do it.”

  “There might be some cool stuff in there. I admire your will power. Are you staying the night at the Breakers?”

  “Of course!” Sinead scraped the last bit of chicken from her plate. “It’s going to be so decadent. The weather forecast is supposed to be clear skies with light breezes off the ocean that will cool the summer heat. Finally, Fianna.” She drank her unsweetened tea. “It feels right.”

  Fianna grinned. “About time!”

  She looked across the table at her care-free sister. “This past week I’ve been subconsciously waiting for the worst to happen, because that’s what we’ve grown up with. But it’s done. The worst has happened—twice—and now it is the way it should be. Celebrating with family and close friends on the ocean that we both love.”

  “I tried to get us rooms at the Breakers for Friday night, as a surprise, but they’re booked.” Fianna finished her sandwich.

  “Great idea.”

  “That flopped. I just thought it might be nice to not stress—get a mani and pedi at the resort, a massage. But as the nice lady at the desk explained, summer is their peak time and there are four weddings that day.”

  “I’ve been so busy putting things together that I hadn’t thought about relaxing.” Sinead laughed. “Maybe Collette can pull some strings?”

  “I’ll text her.” Fianna went to the living room for her purse and brought it back, rooting around inside for her phone. She pulled it out, read the texts, and narrowed her eyes.

  “Anything wrong?”

  “No,” her sister answered quickly. “Well, work drama.” She took a breath then tossed her phone back inside her purse. “I’ll call Collette later.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I want to do it—my treat.” She sat back down. “Is there a second place you’d like to go?”

  “Whatever you pick will be fine.”

  Sinead’s phone dinged and she reached behind her on the kitchen counter, reading the text from Christian as she brought it close. “Christian’s at, surprise, surprise, the brewery and wants to know if we’ll join them. Xavier and Paul are challenging us to a game of giant Jenga.”

  “I’m good.” Fianna twisted her long hair into a bun at her nape, then stood abruptly. “I’ve got to go, actually.”

  “But I thought we were going to watch a movie?”

  “Can’t.” Fianna brought her dishes to the sink. “I’ll call you once I hear from Collette. But either way, plan on spending Friday night and Saturday morning being pampered.” She kissed Sinead’s cheek, the tip of her nose red.

  “Perfect.” Sinead walked her distracted sister to the door. “Sorry you have to work on a Saturday night.”

  “It’s why I make the big bucks.” She waved as she hurried down the stairs to her car.

  Sinead watched her sister drive off and wondered why Fianna was lying.

  Christian came home expecting to find Sinead and Fianna in the living room laughing their heads off while watching chick flicks and drinking wine—in between tropical storm checks on the weather channel.

  Instead, he walked in to find Sinead holding her mom’s hand while Madge sobbed as if her heart was broken. They were sitting on the couch, a box of tissues and the Jamison’s bottle on the coffee table.

  “Jerry was a jerk,” Sinead explained quickly as he set his keys on the small table by the front door.

  “I’m sorry to be a bother,” Madge cried, looking at Christian but then closing her eyes to cry some more.

  “You aren’t,” he said automatically.

  “I was just out driving around and took a chance that Sinead would be home. I wasn’t going to say anything until after the wedding, but then
she asked about stupid Jerry and I started this nonsense. I am a grown woman,” she sniffed into a tissue. “I don’t cry at some stupid man’s antics. Especially when I wasn’t serious about him. If only he hadn’t lied, you know?”

  Sinead pressed the glass of whiskey into her mom’s hands. Madge drank and handed it back to Sinead.

  Christian gave credit where it was due. The Monroe women could hold their whiskey. Sinead’s long hair was shades darker than her mother’s bright copper shoulder-length cut, but they had the same thin nose and slender fingers. Madge was attractive and had an air of helplessness that made men want to take care of her.

  “Lying is the worst,” Sinead agreed.

  “Jerry was never serious about me.” Madge sat back against the couch with a sniff.

  “You can do better, Mom.” Sinead had been comforting her mother through heartbreak her whole life. Christian had observed their ritual many times over.

  “I know. I will—when I’m ready. I just feel so…” Madge started crying again, bringing a wadded tissue to her nose. “Betrayed.”

  “Let’s watch Casa Blanca.” Sinead patted her mom’s knee. “That will make you feel better.”

  “What about Christian?” Madge looked at him with a watery smile. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You aren’t, Mom.” Sinead glanced at him with a questioning look.

  “Of course you aren’t,” Christian responded. “I’ll make something for dinner and you two can relax.”

  Sinead stood. “I’ll be right back with some cheese and crackers. Here,” she gave her mom the remote for the TV. “Find it on Netflix.”

  Christian walked toward the kitchen, Sinead on his heels.

  “Where is Fianna?” he asked.

  “She’s doing something for work. Hey, did Xavier ask you to invite Fianna and me to join you guys at the brewery?”

  “Nope—that was all me,” he said, expecting a pat on the back.

  She frowned. “Hmm. Has Xavier ever mentioned that he likes Fianna?”

  He leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Xavier and Fianna? God, talk about a disaster. Neither one of them do relationships.” Christian thought back to the afternoon of beer and corn hole. Xavier hadn’t brought up women at all—he didn’t even flirt with the waitress.

  “People change.” She opened the refrigerator and took out some sliced cheese, then shut the door with her hip.

  Christian got the crackers out of the pantry. “Saltines okay?” He moved some canned soup to the side. “I think that’s all we’ve got.”

  “Then they’re perfect,” Sinead said with a laugh. “Sorry about the empty pantry. How was shopping before the Funky Buddha?”

  “We lucked out and got the shirts at the first place we tried.” The salesman hadn’t seemed that surprised by three men shopping with a paint strip. They’d finished in less than thirty minutes. “Did you have a nice visit with Fianna?”

  She nodded and arranged the cheese and crackers on a plate. “Do we have olives?” Then she patted her stomach. “Never mind. No olives. What were you thinking you’d make for dinner?”

  “I was going to order pizza.”

  “Christian, I have to fit in my dress!” Sinead stared at him accusingly.

  “You look great.” He patted her slim hip.

  “That is not the same thing.” She danced out of his reach, brandishing a cracker.

  “We can get a bigger dress.” She was thin, anyway. A few extra pounds wouldn’t hurt.

  “At this point, everything just needs to settle.” She stopped fussing with the crackers and tip-toed to his mouth for a kiss. “I love you. It’s seven o’clock. This time next Saturday, you and I will be married.”

  “About damn time,” he said, tugging her closer.

  “I know, right?” She kissed him again and then pulled away. “I better get some crackers in Mom’s system. And I need another box of tissue. I think she’s more hurt by Jerry’s lying than their break-up.”

  “Your mom is a good person,” he said.

  “Thanks for saying that.” Sinead paused before leaving the kitchen. “It means a lot. I know she can be kind of high-maintenance.”

  He blew her a kiss and she took her supplies to the living room. Christian opened the cupboards and the freezer. Low fat, high taste. No pizza.

  His sister called as he was sautéing onion in white wine for a chicken dish, whole grain rice on the side. Asparagus spears and a small green salad. “Hello,” he said, juggling the phone before finding the ear pieces so he could talk hands-free.

  “Hey. Are you alone?”

  “Creeper.”

  “I’m serious,” Collette said. “Where’s Sinead?”

  “In the living room watching Casa Blanca with her mom.”

  “Really? That movie always makes me cry.”

  “I think that’s the point.”

  She cleared her throat. “I have a situation.”

  He lowered the heat on the pan and stepped back. “What?”

  He braced for bad news about their mom or dad, or maybe their tribe of half-siblings and step-sibs.

  “Laura and Ken want their wedding back.”

  Christian shook his head. “No. They don’t get it back.”

  “That’s not good customer service for the Breakers.”

  “Impossible, Collette.”

  “Listen, Ferguson feels awful about this.”

  “Fix it.” No way in hell was he going to go in that room and tell Sinead that the wedding was off.

  He couldn’t handle it. They couldn’t handle it.

  “What about a meeting room? We can deck it out, make it look nice. It would still be the Breakers. Maybe something with an ocean view?”

  “Everything is booked, Christian.”

  “The hallway?”

  “Funny.”

  “I’m serious. What about the lobby?”

  “That’s not the only problem,” she said. “Ken and Laura want their cake, and their photographer. The minister. Everything.”

  “I can’t tell Sinead. No damn wedding.”

  Collette sighed. “I figured you’d say that. Which is what I conveyed to Ferguson. So, he talked to Ken and Laura, who have agreed to give you fifteen minutes once their ceremony is over.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  Shit.

  He had to do it. It wouldn’t be the best, but it would have to work. “Okay.”

  “Are you serious?” Collette asked—not judging, he knew, but clarifying.

  “Yes.” He exhaled, mind cataloguing what needed to be done.

  His sister might be an event planner extraordinaire but he had his own skills in running a successful footwear company. You didn’t rise to the top of the management chain without putting in the time and hard work.

  “You’ll need to order your own cake. See if the minister is willing to do one right after the other—never mind, I’ll take care of the minister. Do you want a new color?”

  “For fifteen minutes? No. Aqua is fine. And Sinead hated the chocolate cake anyway.”

  “Are you going to tell Sinead?”

  He swallowed, his mouth dry. “It would be wrong if I didn’t.” But hell, he absolutely did not want to tell her.

  “Yeah. Sucks to be you.”

  Christian sighed as he peeked into the living room.

  Madge was crying, and Sinead nibbled on a cracker, tears in her eyes.

  She had no idea.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Perfect Venue

  Saturday morning, Christian looked at the gray sky outside their picture window and then at the wedding gown with delicate white feathers over the skirt hung up in a clear plastic case by the front door of their house. Drizzling spits of rain smacked the glass. Not a fortuitous beginning.

  Sinead stomped from their bedroom to the living room, a pair of rain boots in her hand. “I didn’t think I’d actually need these, but
you and I are getting married today even if we need to give everybody umbrellas.”

  He still hadn’t told her about the change of plans. Instead, he’d conspired with Collette and paid the minister to stay and do another ceremony and ordered a white on chocolate cake with ivory frosting and aqua flowers.

  Was it wrong to secretly wish that Laura and Ken might have a hellish argument and break up for good? It was nothing personal, but damn it, he and Sinead had waited long enough.

  The garment bag with his suit was on the hook behind Sinead’s dress and their rolling suitcases waited by the door. He carried their wedding bands in the front pocket of his jeans.

  Collette and Fianna had tried their best to get rooms for last night, but it hadn’t worked out—Collette had informed him that he was damn lucky to get one of the bridal suites for tonight. It was now eight in the morning and they were scheduled for massages at the resort at 11, with the ceremony at 2:45 instead of 2:00.

  “It takes an hour to get there, but in this weather?” She scowled and slammed her purse against the couch. “Damn weatherman! What do they know? Clear blue skies, that’s what he said. Mr. Meteorologist. Liar.”

  “We’ll be fine,” he said, hoping to keep her calm. “We have plenty of time.” When to tell her? Did it matter? It seemed too late now.

  He packed the car through the garage entry so nothing got wet. Sinead muttered something under her breath about a curse that she refused to clarify when he pressed her about it.

  “Honey, we could even stop for breakfast if you want,” he offered.

  She gave him a look that reminded him she knew where he slept at night.

  Christian waited until they were thirty minutes away from the resort and then said, “You know, the funniest thing happened.”

  “Yeah?” Sinead flipped the visor down and studied her face in the mirror. Frowning, she smoothed her brows up with the pad of her forefinger. “I could use a laugh.”

  It was all in the delivery, he told himself, his tone light. “Collette called a few days ago. She’s been really great about helping us out.”

  “True.” Sinead shifted in the passenger seat, dressed in summer shorts and flip flops that belied the stormy weather. “We should buy her a drink after this is all over.”