Forever by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  Christian felt like all kinds of a heel, as if he was kicking Sinead when she was already down.

  Her smooth skin beneath his hand tethered him in what was real. “It is the right thing to do.”

  “They went behind our backs,” she said.

  “True.” He tried to share his calm with her—not that he wasn’t hurt, but he remembered more about that day at the Funky Buddha, when he’d gone on and on about wanting to marry Sinead—in just the right way. “Did we give them much choice?”

  “I don’t understand. Fianna is my sister. She should have told me!”

  “Told you how exactly? That she was swept away by love and wanted to marry Xavier, and not do it the way you and I were doing it? Which, for them, was a lot of extra work?”

  “Exactly.” Her chin lifted, the expression in her eyes stormy.

  He pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss. She blinked and sniffed. After a moment she asked in a small voice, “Are we the ones doing it wrong?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I am not giving you up.”

  “I feel the same.” He tightened his hold on her shoulder.

  “Let’s take marriage off the table,” she said. “I can’t take any more disappointment.”

  “Seriously?” What did that mean? Their one child would have a hyphenated last name? He’d wanted to show the world how much he loved Sinead Monroe, through thick or thin. He wanted marriage.

  “I am serious. I can’t take anymore.” She gripped his biceps and shook his arms.

  This was a worse kind of betrayal. “I won’t push you into something you don’t want.”

  “I feel like this is causing more stress than we need. We were happy before—we can be happy without it.”

  “What about a family?”

  “My mom managed.” Sinead’s chin jutted forward.

  “And she’s stable?” Christian quipped.

  They both looked to Madge, who flirted with the pudgy photographer.

  “She loved us, anyway.” Sinead’s glance went to Fianna. “Maybe she’s pregnant.”

  “What?” Christian shifted his stance against the bar.

  “Why else the rushed marriage?” Sinead’s asked in a whisper.

  “It’s been three months. Fianna looks the same.”

  “Some women don’t show.”

  “We could ask, I guess.”

  “I’m not speaking to her.” Sinead stared over his shoulder at her sister.

  “I could ask.” Then he shook his head. “Scratch that. I am not going to ask. What I am going to do is offer them a toast in congratulations. They deserve happiness just as much as we do.”

  Her left eye twitched the slightest bit.

  “I’ve been thinking about myself this whole time. When did Xavier have the chance to celebrate his own wedding? I mean, he and Fianna were so busy trying to hide their happiness they’ve downplayed a really special time.” He took Sinead’s hand, trying hard to not focus on the fact that she’d rather not be married.

  He watched her think about his words, what they meant. A single tear fled down her cheek.

  “I can’t give a toast.”

  “Stand by me and I’ll do it.”

  “It’s the right thing to do. You’re a better person than me.”

  “Stop it.”

  “It’s true. I’m going to hell.”

  “You are not!”

  “I might.” She looked sad at the prospect.

  “You won’t.”

  “I am jealous of my own sister’s happiness.” She put her hand over her stomach. “And I still am. I understand what I’m feeling, I know it’s wrong, and I still want to tear her hair out.”

  He put his forehead to hers. “You guys are close.”

  “We were close.”

  “You still are.” He smoothed a curl down her shoulder. “She was trying to spare your feelings.”

  “Well, this feels worse.”

  “I get it.”

  “I’m not ready to forgive and forget.”

  “Then just smile and stand by me while I offer a toast.”

  He knew, he sensed, that Sinead was ready to bolt for the door. But where could she go? There was a freak tropical storm rattling the resort making travel impossible.

  They had family and friends wanting to celebrate their happiness.

  And a wedding that had fallen through despite every good intention.

  She loved him, he knew that. He loved her. He thought kids would be a natural evolution of their life together, but if she really didn’t want to get married, then he couldn’t see having kids, which meant that they might be cohabitating for the rest of their lives.

  So be it.

  At least Xavier could celebrate. Right?

  With Fianna.

  He studied them from his position by the bar. Their backs were stiff, their shoulders touching as they watched the storm.

  Christian jumped up on the bar, to the bartender’s surprise. The man went with it, seeing his whiskey glass raised. “Thank you all for coming here today.”

  His sister, dad and Paul all turned, eventually catching the attention of the other guests, who also swiveled toward him.

  “Sinead and I appreciate you all coming out in this,” he cleared his throat and tried on an English accent, “spot of weather.” He ditched the accent and continued, “We love you guys and couldn’t imagine getting married without you.”

  His dad lifted a bottle of beer. “Love you, kid.”

  Christian, almost thirty, smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” He looked around the room. Xavier and Fianna had turned so that they faced him with their backs to the window. They each wore neutral expressions as if just waiting to get the boot.

  “Mother Nature and a shellfish allergy have put the kibosh on this wedding ceremony. You all know that this was our third time out, and we’ve decided to call a truce.”

  “No!” Collette said, her palm covering her heart. “You can’t quit.”

  “We aren’t quitting,” he said.

  Sinead put her hand over his foot and raised her voice. “We love each other. Nothing has changed with that. But’s it enough of us in the lime light.”

  “What does that mean?” Lucas asked.

  Christian tried to bring Sinead up to stand on the bar with him, but she shook her head.

  Christian pointed to Xavier and Fianna. “I’d like to offer congratulations to Xavier and Fianna Wilson. She might not be my official sister-in-law, but we’ve known each other so long that it’s real enough. And Xavier, buddy, I’m sorry that I was so busy that I didn’t get to celebrate you being in love.”

  Xavier’s throat flushed with color. “Dude.”

  “Words never fail you, my friend.” Christian hefted his glass of whiskey in salute. “Long life, love and happiness to you both.”

  The wedding goers, already drunk on adrenalin and champagne, cheered loudly. The windows rattled as the Breakers rolled with the tropical weather.

  Fianna smiled at him, but her enthusiasm dimmed as she noted Sinead standing quietly by herself on the floor, while he took the stage on the bar.

  Christian had such high hopes for his wedding only for it to come to this. What would happen next? In the past, he’d have bet every last dime that he and Sinead would make it through forever and always.

  But now? He sensed a crack in the structure of their relationship that hadn’t been there before.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sinead made Christian’s favorite homemade pizza with melted provolone, Italian sausage crumbles and jalapeno peppers. The stupid Breakers fiasco had lauded them a blip in the papers, so they’d been staying quiet at home.

  Not that they were famous before, but when a community expects for you to get married, three damn times in a year, and you don’t, through no fault of your own, well, that community starts to take it personally.

  They’d each dealt with comments from co-workers, and been the recipient of not-so-witty observation
s at the grocery store and the bank. People didn’t know what to say—to offer congratulations on a wedding that hadn’t happened seemed silly, and yet, were they ever going to go through with making their union legal?

  The media made their private trials public, rehashing Sinead’s trip to the ER in February, Christian’s kidnapping and jail stint in April—the July tropical storm was more fodder for the gossip mill.

  July had somehow turned into October. It was season in South Florida which eased some of the pressure in a slow-news summer. The population in their small town tripled once the snowbirds arrived, though the heavy influx wouldn’t be complete for another month.

  “Ready?” she called, carrying the pizza and two beers on a large tray to the living room.

  Christian had a movie queued up. He’d put on ten pounds in the last two and a half months. She’d gone the other way and lost five. Her hair had thinned and her skin was dry.

  He was handsome to her no matter his weight but she hated that he was under so much stress.

  “What did you pick?” she asked.

  “The latest Quentin movie.”

  “Good.” Sinead liked the director’s work, the way that he made his characters so real in their suffering. Sinead could totally relate. She set the tray down on the coffee table and handed Christian his plate. “Parmesan?”

  “Sure. You have the red chili flakes?”

  “Of course!” She gave him the shaker and sat down.

  “Thanks, hon.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Her cellphone rang from the table beside the couch and she glanced at it with no intention of answering. She was doing her best, taking care of the man she loved and recovering from repeated disappointments. Sinead worked overtime, cleaned, cooked and spent time with Christian.

  It was all she had room for.

  On the other hand, Christian was the bigger man, Joe Cool giving the toast to Fianna and Xavier at the Breakers—what should have been their wedding.

  Giving his blessing to his best friend, and her sister, as if the fact that they’d lied and gone behind their backs meant nothing.

  Fianna’s picture popped up on Caller ID.

  She knew Christian was in the right, but it still hurt on a deep level that refused to allow justifications. To accept logic.

  “You should answer it.”

  “No,” she said. “Let’s watch the movie. She can text me.”

  He shrugged, probably tired of the same argument. “Fine. Tomorrow. Call her tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Would she? No. Sinead couldn’t get out of the hole she was in, not that she wanted to. “When was the last time you talked to Collette?”

  It seemed that all of the people they’d loved had disappeared after the cluster at the Breakers. Nobody liked losers and her and Christian’s inability to get married in a traditional way reeked of loser-dom.

  Her mom’s new boyfriend, the photographer from their not-wedding, was captivating Madge’s attention, which Sinead appreciated because it left her time to mope. He tended to talk with his mouth full during meals but at least he hadn’t lied. Yet.

  “Collette texted yesterday. Doing good. Dad wants to know when we’re coming to see Central Park in the fall.”

  She scrunched her nose.

  “I promised we would.” His shrug showed he was sorry about that.

  Sinead pushed a piece of pizza around on her plate. Christian was on his third slice.

  “I love your dad and Aline. And Central Park.” And yet she resisted leaving the house for anything that didn’t have to be done.

  “I’ll tell him next year. It’s cool.”

  Sinead dropped her plate to the coffee table. “Christian?”

  “Yeah?” He kept his eyes on the television, away from her. When was the last time he’d actually looked at her?

  “Christian?”

  “I said what?”

  “You did not.”

  He pulled his gaze from the opening credits. “What?”

  She smiled, loving his sense of fair play.

  Her smile widened and he studied her, as if seeing her for the first time in a long time.

  “You think we should go to New York?”

  Sinead curled her feet beneath her butt on the couch, facing Christian. “Not really. I want to stay home. I feel like I’m safe here from the world. You know?”

  “I’ll protect you, babe.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need protecting. I’m in hiding.” Sinead pointed at him. “With you.”

  Christian frowned. “Hiding?”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “No. We’re just hanging out.”

  “We don’t order Chinese anymore since they asked us about the wedding. We don’t order pizza since the guy made a comment about you getting lucky and not getting hitched. We don’t eat out because people notice us in our little town.”

  His scowl deepened.

  “We don’t visit with your family because we are too busy.”

  “We work all the time,” he said.

  “We don’t hang out with my family because my sister lied about being married to your best friend and my mom is chasing the wedding photographer.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “We might be in hiding. Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” he suggested and popped a sausage crumble into his mouth.

  “By the time we get to an actual tomorrow, we could be one of those creepy couples who can’t leave the house without a tranquilizer.”

  “Chill out, Sinead. Seriously. We go to work. We aren’t creepy.”

  She spaced her finger and thumb an inch apart. “Super close.”

  He tossed a throw pillow off the couch to the floor for more room. “After the movie, then.”

  “We don’t have to go to New York, but we should at least have dinner with everybody.”

  “Even Fianna and Xavier?”

  She huffed and sat back, setting her plate of pizza to the side table. “Yes. As much as it’s going to hurt, yes.”

  He stretched his leg across the couch, touching her thigh with his toes. “It will be okay. We’re grieving, that’s all.”

  “For what might have been?”

  “For broken expectations.” He turned up the volume on the television. “This movie has excellent ratings on Rotten Tomatoes.”

  Christian didn’t want to talk about the awful year they’d had. But Sinead was right—they couldn’t hide away for the rest of their lives. They’d promised to love one another forever, not die together in a house haunted by unwrapped wedding gifts.

  Sinead had fallen asleep toward the end of the gore-fest, her hand resting on her empty pizza plate.

  She’d had one to his four, but she complained of a stomach ache. Probably an ulcer caused by wedding stress. He’d done some research online and ordered some Zantac that she wouldn’t take.

  “God, we’re stubborn,” he said, getting off the couch. He shuffled in front of her and she didn’t wake. Christian wiped grease from her fingers with a napkin and took the plate from her lap, then scooped her up in his arms.

  Her hair hung down her back in loose braid, her auburn lashes cresting her pale cheek. Freckles dotted her nose.

  When was the last time he’d counted those? Angel kisses. He’d heard the term as a kid and was fascinated by the idea that angels left a trail. As an adult, he’d enjoyed following that trail of freckles along Sinead’s body with his tongue.

  As he walked down the dark hall to their bedroom he knew that it was time to make some changes.

  Like making love all night on a Saturday instead of stuffing himself with pizza and watching movies.

  He put her under the covers of their queen-sized bed. “Good night, Sinead. Love you.”

  Then he went into the bathroom, showered, shaved his scruffy beard and eyed the slight rounding of his belly with distaste.

  His sister had brought up the issue of grief and it made sense. A person could only handle so much
up and down emotion. Each time they’d had the expectation of something sacred only to have those hopes dashed by the wedding not going through.

  The family that was so important to them, so invested in their happiness, also was dragged through the mire. Instead of joy, the Sharp-Monroes had gifted everyone with depression.

  “No wonder Xavier and Fianna eloped.” He’d seen the way Ferguson looked at his sister and wished the guy luck overcoming the bombs Christian and Sinead had left in their wake.

  He’d been willing to let things rest because he didn’t want to lose Sinead. She mattered more than any babies.

  The more he thought about, the more he wanted a dog. Sinead hadn’t ruled the option out when he’d brought it up before.

  There was a no-kill shelter at the other end of their town and maybe tomorrow they could check it out. Not only would they save an animal’s life, they’d be adding a much-needed jolt to their own lives.

  He was so excited by the idea that he was tempted to wake Sinead up and tell her, but rest was more important. Christian brushed her hair back from her forehead, smooth with sleep.

  “I love you, babe.” What wouldn’t he do for her?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sinead woke up to the smell of bacon and Christian singing classic rock in the kitchen.

  She pushed the covers back, showered, brushed her teeth and joined him. “And good morning to you,” she said, coming up behind him to kiss his naked shoulder.

  He turned, a dish towel tucked into his basketball shorts, his chest bare.

  Intrigued by his mood, she gave his ass a playful pat.

  He shook his hips. “Breakfast is served.” Christian urged her toward the dining room table overlooking the back patio and yard. “Clothing is optional.”

  She laughed in surprise. “Really?”

  Sliced strawberries, a dish of cantaloupe, toast, bacon and a bowl of scrambled eggs waited for her in a veritable feast. “This looks amazing. You still have clothes on. Shorts, anyway.”

  “I was hoping you’d get naked.”

  She shivered at the intense look in his eyes. Oh, how she’d missed that look. As if he could devour her whole.