The Honeymooner (A Paradise Bay Romantic Comedy Book 1)

by Melanie Summers

  Emma is finishing up her chef’s training at the Culinary Institute of America in New York, which is costing me an absolute fortune, so she better be one hell of a magical chef when she comes back to work at the resort. Will is off exploring the world and eking out a living as a professional adventurer (yeah, that’s a thing. I didn’t believe it either when Will told me that’s what he wanted to do). Turns out he’s pretty good at it, because he recently landed a six-part TV docu-series on the Avonian Broadcast Network called The Wild World, which has him filming him all over the globe in the harshest of climates. Right now, he’s in Antarctica for three weeks, which kind of makes me laugh a little, because as brave as he is, he’s a total wimp when it comes to the cold.

  And here I am on a sunny beach in the Caribbean. Aaah.

  I’m finally back to my favourite entry spot along the shore when I hear my name being called. I turn and see my best friend, Nelson Clarke. He’s the youngest bank manager in history at a Benavente Credit Union. He runs the San Felipe branch in the nearest town (San Felipe, obviously) to Paradise Bay, and the fact that he’s out here on a Wednesday afternoon, dressed in a suit, means he’s not here to catch a few waves with me (also obviously).

  “Hey, Reef,” he says as I near the road where he’s parked his Jeep. I got saddled with the nickname Reef when I was a teenager, thanks to my affinity for getting reef rash when I was first learning to surf. As much as I don’t love the origin of my nickname, it’s a hell of a lot better than if they’d started calling me Rash.

  “What’s up?” I ask, even though I already know what’s up and who sent him. I’m about to default on the loan the bank approved for a major renovation on the resort, and Rosy Browne (the general manager/woman at Paradise Bay who took over as a sort-of mum for us) is the one who called Nelson. She opened the latest overdue notice from the bank yesterday and completely lost it. I told her I have a plan, but clearly, she doesn’t trust that I can handle it without her help. Unfortunately, she still thinks of me as the eleven-year-old kid she met two decades ago.

  Nelson loosens his tie, looking worried. “Just wanted to check in with you about your loan status.”

  “I take it you heard from Wikileaks?”

  He grins at the use of my nickname for Rosy, then his face falls. “This is serious, man.”

  “It was serious, but I’ve got it all figured out,” I say with a confident smile. “I’ll be caught up by Monday.”

  Nelson gives me a skeptical look. “You’re really going to come up with sixty-seven thousand dollars by Monday?”

  “What? You don’t think I can do it?” I ask with a mock hurt expression.

  “It’s not that, man. I know you can pull a rabbit out of your hat when you need to, but this is one hell of a huge rabbit,” he says. “And the last thing I want to see is for you to lose the resort.”

  “For a lesser man, not an easy feat, but for me…” I shrug nonchalantly. I’m being deliberately vague because my plan involves something that makes my stomach churn, and if anyone tries to talk me out of it, I’ll definitely cave. And since caving isn’t an option, I’m keeping my plan to myself until I’ve seen it through. Time to change the subject. “You didn’t happen to bring your board and some trunks, did you?”

  Nelson shakes his head at me and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus, you’re in real trouble here, and you’re acting like we’re talking about a hundred-dollar loan for a pair of sneakers.”

  Ever since I’ve known Nelson, he’s been completely uptight, but he comes by it honestly — his mum is a forensic accountant and his dad is one of only three air traffic controllers on the island. Nelson was their only child so they put a lot of pressure on him. I’ve always been his laid-back friend — the Ferris Bueller to his Cameron (a much better gig if you can get it). “You know, buddy, all this stress isn’t good for you. If you don’t learn to relax, you’re going to have a heart attack before you’re forty.”

  He ignores my deliberate attempt at trying to side-step this conversation. “Rosy said you don’t have the money. And if you don’t have it today, how’s it supposed to be there in five days, especially when you’re out here surfing instead of working on it?”

  “Have you even looked at those waves, Nelson? How could I not be out here?” I point to the shore and grin at him, then I let my smile fade when I see the look on his face. “Don’t worry about it. I swear on your life, I’ll be completely caught up by Monday.”

  “By Monday?”

  “At the very latest.”

  That is if I can force myself to follow through with the very last thing I want to do.

  THREE

  Something Old, Something New, Something Bloody, Something Blue

  Libby

  “Here’s the bride! Come give us a kiss.” Granddad, who is dressed in a very smart dark grey morning suit, takes his pipe out of his mouth and smiles at me.

  He, along with my entire family and the photographer, are waiting in the garden behind the old stone church that has played host to all the biggest weddings in Valcourt for the past four hundred years. The late morning sun shines down, softly warming me, and I start to relax a little, letting go of my sense of doom. It is a perfect autumn day, and even though we’re only six minutes behind schedule, we can easily make it up if we skip two of the poses I was going to do under the rose trestle.

  I cross the grass to Grandad, my eyes filling with tears as they’ve been doing since I woke at four a.m. in a panic that my alarm wasn't going to go off. I'm working on only three hours of sleep, but I hope I have enough makeup caked on that no one will notice.

  He gives me a careful hug, clearly having had enough experience with brides to know you don't want to mess with their hair or makeup.

  “Libby, you look tired,” Gran says, looking down her nose at me from under her pink fascinator. “But your dress really is lovely, and I’m glad you decided to wear your hair up properly instead of hanging down like a bohemian.”

  Alice, who has just finished hugging Grandad, rolls her eyes in my direction at our Gran’s comment. Then she glances toward the side door of the church and gasps.

  When I turn, I see my mother and a young man who must be her new beau hurrying over to us. My mum’s long hair is down (like a bohemian) and she’s in an off-the-shoulder mini-dress that belongs on a much younger woman. “Mini-Me!” she shouts, sweeping across the lawn as though she belongs here.

  Her boyfriend trails behind her, wearing white slacks and a pink button-down shirt he should probably finish buttoning up. He’s got one of those horrid man buns perched on top of his head like a nest belonging to a bird whose eggs should be taken away by child services — and he has a very ironic beard. His earlobes bear holes big enough to poke your index finger through and he’s beaming at me like a proud father.

  My entire body tenses as they come near, and I touch the space under my nose to make sure it’s not bleeding. I’m a stress-bleeder, and the sight of my mum at this moment has put all my nerves on high alert that something is very wrong.

  “Nosebleed, Libby?” Alice asks, digging around in her purse for some tissues.

  “Not yet, but I think I feel one walking toward me right now,” I say as Penny floats in my direction. Alice hands me a wad of just-in-case tissues, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed by the smell of pot as my mum gives me a long, deep hug.

  “My baby! How’d you grow up so fast?” she asks, obviously unaware of the fact that it happened during the twenty-two years she’s been M.I.A. Pulling back, she says, “You’re gorgeous. Jorge, isn’t she gorgeous?”

  “Si, Penny, you two could be sisters.” Jorge gives me a kiss on both cheeks while my mind races, trying to come up with a way to get them out of here before my nose starts gushing.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, trying to look happily shocked instead of shockingly horrified.

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” My mum tilts her head to the
side and sighs happily. “I just had to be here for my little girl’s big day.”

  “Why start now?” Gran scoffs.

  My mum stares Gran down for an uncomfortably long moment. “How about we set aside our differences and really just be here for our little Breeze Liberty today, okay?”

  Gran stiffens at the sound of my full name and snorts. “Be here for her? Unlike the rest of her life, you mean?”

  Grandad puts a hand on Gran’s arm. “Now, Clara, let’s not get into this. It’s not going to get us anywhere, and it’ll only spoil Libby’s wedding.”

  My mum, having already grown tired of her parents and only child, turns to Alice, who’s been joined by Jack and their kids. Penny squeals with delight and starts gushing over the great-niece and nephew she’s never met while Roland, our wedding photographer, hurries over with his equipment at the ready, snapping candids of this ‘happy’ reunion.

  My alarm on my mobile phone goes off, and I open my silk clutch to silence it. I’m using my phone to set alarms for the entire day so as not to forget anything. “That's my reminder to give you your gratuity, Roland.”

  Roland breaks into a wide smile and holds out his hand. “Thank you, Libby. Most people leave it until the end of the day, and by that point they’re either too knackered or too drunk to remember.”

  Roland pockets the envelope, then quickly moves on to lining up Alice, Jack, and their children for a photo. I wanted to give them a photo of just their family as a thank you to Alice for being my maid of honour.

  Standing next to Roland, I make goofy faces so Maisie and Colby will grin in the general direction of the camera. Maisie smiles, displaying her entire set of three teeth, while Colby sticks his hand up in front of his face to block the camera. I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that this behaviour is a direct result of being the first grandchild and the subject of at least ten thousand photos in his three-year lifespan.

  “Colby, put your hand down,” Jack says, a tight smile plastered to his face.

  Colby makes no move to obey, which leads both Alice and Jack to alternate between pleading and barking orders at their son through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, he’s got a mind of his own, that one. Just like his Great Aunt Penny!” my mum says with a big laugh.

  Alice, looking distraught at the idea that her son will end up an irresponsible freeloader, has a pinched voice when she says, “Put your hand down now, love.”

  Grandad chimes in with, “Colby, listen to your mum or you're not getting any of the jelly beans I brought.”

  Jorge joins in, waving his hands in front of Colby, as if he’s been part of the family for thirty years instead of thirty seconds. “Come on, buddy. Shows us what a good boy you are. Do it for your Auntie Breeze. For her special day.”

  As I watch the mayhem unfold, I suddenly become aware of the fact that Richard’s entire staff at the law firm, as well as all of his relatives (some of whom have royal titles), are going to meet Penny and Jorge, who will most likely make out like a couple of horny teenagers on the dance floor in a few hours. I check my nose, amazed to find it’s not bleeding. However, my gut is churning and my palms are starting to sweat. It’s going to be utterly humiliating to have to introduce her and Jorge, who I’m pretty sure is younger than me, based on the very classy neck tattoo of what I assume is his birthday: 01-10-96. Let’s see, if he was born in 1996, that makes him six years younger than me. So…twenty-two. Nothing gross about that, right?

  Suddenly, I realize I must have had some type of premonition about my mum showing up. That’s why I’ve been so anxious! It’s nothing to do with Richard and me at all. I smile and let myself relax for a second.

  My phone distracts me, reading aloud my latest text message (I've left it on driving mode so I can keep up with any new developments during the day without slowing things down unnecessarily). “Incoming text message from Aunt Bea: Uncle Geoffrey and I are running a few minutes late getting to town. We should be there by 12:05. Should we come around the back of the church so as not to interrupt the ceremony?”

  I quickly text her back while the struggle for a perfect family photo continues. That's fine, Auntie. We might be a few minutes behind ourselves. Just come in the front doors, which actually lead to the back of the church.

  “Oh, forget it then. He's just not going to cooperate,” Jack says, shaking his head in disgust.

  Roland lets the camera hang from his neck and gestures for the rest of us to line up for the next set of photos. “What if we try for a group shot? Maybe Granny here can hold one of the little guy's hands and Dad holds the other one.”

  We all get in—including Jorge, of course, because, why wouldn’t he? Roland arranges us, then leans down at Colby and smiles. “Listen, mate, I have a little secret for you. There is a tiny elf living inside my camera, but he only comes out when kids smile nicely. Do you want to meet him?”

  Colby gives him a long, skeptical look. “Does he bite kids’ cheeks off?”

  All the grown-ups wear matching horrified expressions, except my super-high mum, who seems to be wondering the same thing as she squints at the lens.

  Roland shakes his head and says, “No, of course not. He's quite a funny little bloke. He might stick his tongue out at you if you're really quiet.”

  Quickly picking up his camera and glancing at the rest of us, Roland says, “Be ready. I think this might be the one.”

  We all stand perfectly still and wait while he snaps away.

  “Oh, little buddy, you need to smile bigger than that if he's going to come out. I think I hear him.”

  I stand, my cheeks already sore from smiling, as I silently pray that Colby will just cooperate for the twentieth of a second it will take to get a good shot. Of course, chances of that happening at the exact moment Gran will actually have her eyes open are pretty much nil, so Roland is likely going to earn every dollar of that gratuity trying to mix-and-match faces to create the perfect portrait.

  My phone beeps loudly, then reads out: “Incoming text message from Richard: If your phone’s on driving mode, you better shut it off now, okay? Otherwise this will be awfully embarrassing. Is it off? Okay. I'm really sorry, Libby. I'm not going to make it today. I can’t marry you. I know I should have told you sooner, but I’ve been trying to convince myself to go ahead with it.”

  I slowly process what I've just heard while my stupid face remains frozen in place in a wide grin. Around me, chaos ensues.

  “What the hell did he just say?”

  “He said he's not coming. What kind of a man texts that he’s not coming to his own wedding?”

  “There’s no elf in that camera! You lied to me!”

  “Oh Libby, I'm so sorry.”

  “Ouch! That little brat just stomped on my foot!”

  “He's not a brat. He just doesn't like being lied to.”

  I blink and realize Jorge is standing in front of me with his hands on both my upper arms. “Are you okay, Breeze? As basically your step-father, I would be proud to beat him to a pulp if that will make you feel better.”

  My mum’s faces crumples in concern. “Are you all right, love?”

  I hear her talking, but her voice sounds very far away, like it's coming through a long tube.

  “Mini-Me.” She shakes me a little. “Breeze. Answer me. Oh, Sweet Jesus, she’s catatonic! Jorge, get her a joint!”

  “What…what just happened?” I suddenly feel my entire body going limp, and I just want to sit down. I'm not sure what I'm doing at the moment because I'm completely disconnected from my physical self, but I'm vaguely aware of the fact that Granddad and Jorge have now taken me by either arm and are guiding me to a park bench. The feeling of the cold stone through the thin chiffon and silk layers of my dress brings me back to reality. “Did he just say he's not coming?” I whisper.

  When no one answers me, I blink at my mum. “Richard’s not coming.”

  “I know, Mini-Me. I heard the message. We all d
id. Oh, God, honey, your nose still bleeds when you get upset?”

  I place my hand under my nose and feel the familiar wet sensation. Alice grabs the tissue from my other hand and shoves it under my nose, but it’s too late. It’s already dripped down the front of my dress.

  “It’s okay, we can get that out with some club soda,” Alice says.

  Roland, who is suddenly standing next to me, pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Probably for the best. Better to find out now than when you’re three children into the whole thing like I did.”

  I nod as though I understand any of what is currently happening.

  He sucks in a deep breath, then says, “Listen, Libby, I know this isn't the right moment, but the contract does state there are no refunds within seven days prior to the wedding.”

  “Not now, you ninny!” Gran shouts at him, sending him scurrying off in the direction of his camera bag.

  “Do you need a moment of privacy?” Mum says, handing me my phone. “Perhaps you should call him.”

  I nod slowly. “Yes, I suppose I should.”

  Alice, who has Maisie in her arms, barks, “Do not phone him, whatever you do! If he's going to call this whole thing off via text, he doesn't deserve to hear from you ever again.”

  “I always knew he had no balls!” Granddad hollers suddenly, shocking us all by both shouting and using the word ‘balls.’

  “Language, Edward!” Gran says in a shrill tone. Turning to me, she says, “I think we should take a moment to pray for wisdom during this difficult time.”

  I stare at her for a second before saying, “Umm…maybe in a bit. I…I think I will phone him. Not God, Richard. I’m sure there’s been some sort of mistake, and we can work this out in time for the ceremony.” I smile weakly at the members of my family, then realize smiling is completely pointless due to the wad of tissue hiding the lower half of my face. “Why don’t you all head inside and give me a minute to sort this out.”