Make Me Smile (Bayshore Book 6)

by Ember Leigh

  And then the rehearsal happens. It is lively, beautiful, and fun, which only increases my suspicion. Sure, our sets of parents didn’t glance at each other once through the practice runs and during the ensuing dinner, so that might have helped. But still, after a full twenty-four hours of absolutely zero drama, I’m starting to get a little worried…and even, dare I say it, excited for my own wedding.

  Discounting the parental feud, everything has been going wonderfully, maroon van included. All of our loved ones are here. We’ve stayed on task, had multiple social events, and I managed to mostly not-ruin my wedding dress.

  So when the morning of the wedding comes and I wake up slowly, smiling, stretching out in bed next to my almost-husband, I’m expecting some sort of relaxed jaunt through wedding day bliss. But what I actually receive is a sucker punch from the nuptial gnomes.

  My sister Kestral is at the door of our rental at eight a.m., pounding like the house is on fire and we haven’t been made aware. I stumble to greet her in a robe, and her big green eyes look at me in disbelief.

  “Kinsley! We have to be at the hair salon in ten minutes!”

  So that’s how the day starts. I force myself into something resembling an outfit, Kestral pushes me into her car. I don’t even get to say goodbye to Connor but, well, I guess I’ll see him at the wedding. My mom and our other sister Katie are already at the salon when I get there, thumbing through magazines. From there, it’s high-grade bridal party preparation. Lena shows up later for the professional makeup phase of the morning, blessedly bringing donuts and coffee, which I try to inhale around the application of makeup products I’ve never even heard of before, much less own. Apparently I’ve been contoured, which sounds painful until I look in the mirror and almost choke on my sprinkle donut.

  It’s me. Except, it’s not. Or rather, it’s the Kinsley Cabana-Soon-To-Be-Daly who has only ever existed in my imagination. I lower my donut, blinking at this rapturous creature in the reflection. My strawberry blonde hair is twisted into an elegant updo with soft waves framing my face. My complexion is perfect. My lips are huge and glossy. I am both powerful woman and gorgeous fairytale creature.

  And then the tears start.

  “Honey, no, don’t cry,” my makeup artist tuts. “I used waterproof mascara, but we want this to last all day.”

  “You are phenomenal at what you do,” I tell her between sobs.

  My sisters hug me from both sides while Lena plies me with another donut. But this time, I refuse. “I can’t mess up my lipstick.”

  The makeup artist gives me a blast of setting spray, and then we’re off. I check in with Connor, who’s somehow drinking Bloody Marys with his brothers at the venue already. By this time we’re ready for lunch, which means off to the venue. We selected an event space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake with an attached brick-laid patio for the reception. Though the ceremony itself will be outside in the gazebo, set against a cluster of azaleas and roses mere feet from the lakeshore.

  My sisters pick up and deliver lunch to the bridal dressing room, where I’m stowed away like a hostage. We feast on gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches—as delicately as possible—before it’s time to get dressed. Lena, my sisters, and Hazel—London is resting with her feet up somewhere in the main hall—get themselves ready before they begin to fuss over me. I just sit back and enjoy it. My mom shows up in time to help me zip the wedding dress, and from then on she and I trade off shedding tears.

  Because holy shit. Here we are. We made it to the wedding day.

  Hazel helps me make sure we have everything in these final tense and dreamy moments before the bridesmaids are whisked away to take their places and the dash toward I do begins. Grammy Ethel’s wedding rings? Connor has them. My vows? Tucked inside my bra. Garter belt? Awkwardly venturing toward my crotch.

  A soft knock sounds on the outside of the door, and Lena gasps. “Is it time?”

  Hazel whooshes toward the door in her floor-length buttercup-yellow gown. Because yes, our wedding colors are buttercup yellow, navy, and white. Connor insisted on the yellow—“There’s no other color that fits my sunflower, Sunny-kins.” You can’t argue with a man in love.

  When she pulls open the door, Annette Daly is waiting on the other side. She is the classic dark-haired beauty, her tresses pulled back into an elegant knot. Diamonds glint in her earlobes as she smiles nervously, peering inside.

  “Hey, ladies. Can I come in and chat with the bride real quick?”

  “Of course,” I blurt, waving her in. Mom stiffens at my side, and the air grows noticeably tighter as Annette’s gaze meets my mom’s. Annette takes a moment to look me up and down, bringing her hands over her heart space.

  “You look incredible, dear,” she whispers. And that’s when I notice tears shimmering in her eyes. “I just wanted to come sit down with you before everything got started.”

  “Yes, please. Join us.” I gesture around, as though there’s much to offer beyond curling irons and makeup boxes. Annette smiles past me at my sisters and Lena, who resume their own last-minute make-up touches in front of a big mirror on the far wall. Then her electric blue gaze settles on me, the eyes that all her sons inherited, and she draws a deep breath.

  “I just wanted to come offer some wishes for your wedding,” Annette says, smoothing the front of her dress. I’ve never seen her like this: nervous, maybe out of her element. Annette has always been the distant Daly matriarch who watched over her handsome sons with a quiet fierceness. But here, surrounded by women, I realize there’s a side of Annette Daly that maybe I’ve never gotten to tap into. Not that she’d have let me tap into it, of course. But where my father was the lone male in a sea of women, Annette’s life has been the beautiful woman, surrounded by devastatingly handsome men.

  “You have been a steady fixture in my son’s life,” Annette says slowly, focusing her intense gaze on me. “You inspire him. It’s plain to see. You two lead a beautiful, admirable life. The type of life that I respect and envy.” Annette squeezes my arm before continuing. “All I’ve ever wanted was for my sons to be loved for the incredible, dynamic men they are. And you don’t just love Connor for those things. You help him elevate those qualities.”

  Tears return to my eyes. I wish I could be recording this for posterity, but I forget where I put my phone. Connor probably picked it up accidentally somewhere.

  “So you, Kinsley, have helped me achieve one of my greatest dreams: to see my boy become the best version of himself I could have hoped for. Thank you for that. Sincerely.”

  I reach for a tissue, dabbing at the corner of my eye. “You’re welcome. I just…I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, honey. I just wanted to thank you for loving Connor the way he deserves to be loved.” She reaches for my hands, giving one a squeeze. “I know things weren’t easy in the beginning. And I’m sorry that so much of our historical…shit…made its way into the present.”

  My mom straightens her back. She’s been keeping watch nearby while pretending to arrange an open makeup box. “Mm-hmm.”

  Annette glances at my mom, then looks at me once more. “I’m excited to have you enter the family. To carry the Daly name. And I will treat you as my own daughter.”

  Her words warm my heart, but Mom has other plans.

  “Hopefully that doesn’t mean blaming her for things she didn’t do,” Moms mutters.

  Annette’s sharp gaze lands on my mom. “Excuse me?”

  “I wasn’t even in your house an hour before you declared I broke a glass deliberately,” Mom says. “I’m not sure why I should believe my daughter will fare much better.”

  All the warmth that Annette’s words had conjured begins to fade away.

  “It won’t be hard for her to be better than you,” Annette says in a controlled but threatening tone. “Since I won’t have to rely on her for moral support, only to have her turn her back on me.”

  “Or do you plan to continue pun
ishing her for something you think I did?” Mom asks.

  I blink rapidly, looking between the two beautiful women. I can’t believe they used to be best friends. And now here we are. Still caught in a snit from the eighties.

  Before Annette can respond—and I can tell she’s got a doozy brewing from the way her lip curls—I hurry to say, “Uh, ladies? Time out?” I make a T with my hands. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been doing my part to get you two to get fuck the over this. Not just you two—the four of you, actually. So either we’re going to get to the bottom of this right now, once and for all, or we’re going to leave it in the rearview mirror forever.” I pause, feeling so powerful in this moment. For good measure, I add, “Or else.”

  “We used to be close,” Annette tells me sadly. “But after I broke up with your father, he and Lisa started getting closer. I was okay with it.”

  “It seemed like it at first,” Mom says softly.

  “I was okay with it in the beginning,” Annette adds. “Until that horrible party at Jackson’s.” To me, Annette says, “I was dating Damon at the time, but Jack and I were friendly. We ended up at the same party one night, but we all drank way too much. I passed out, and when I came to, I was in bed beside your father—”

  “Oh, there’s this story again,” Mom groans.

  Annette’s throat bobs, and she takes a moment. “It hurts when your best friend won’t even listen when you try to tell her about a frightening time in my life. That’s when you stop being best friends.”

  “No, we stopped being best friends when you tried to pin an unplanned pregnancy on Jack,” Mom says. “You know nothing happened that night with Jack. Or Dominic would have grown up spending holidays and every other weekend at our house.” To me, Mom adds, “She got knocked up the old-fashioned way by her boyfriend, and tried to blame your father, who did nothing wrong.”

  Annette’s nostrils flare. “I found out I was pregnant a month later. All I could think about was that night at the party.” Sadness fills Annette’s face. “I was pregnant, scared, and my best friend walked away from me.”

  My head is spinning. This isn’t just some old drama. This is a heart-wrenching story that I absolutely cannot participate in right now.

  Hazel raps softly on the door. I hadn’t even realized she’d stepped out. “Ladies. They’re ready.”

  Annette clutches my hands. “I didn’t want for this to come up. I just wanted to say thank you…and I wish the absolute best for both of you.” She offers a small smile before hurrying out of the room. I twist to look at Mom.

  “Really? You ditched Annette when she got pregnant?”

  “She lied about who the father was and threatened to take your father to court.”

  I heave a huge sigh. How much did any of that matter? It was over thirty years ago. And looking ahead…I could only see one clear path.

  “I saw a woman who came here to open a door to the future,” I tell my mom. “And that’s where I’m heading. Where are you planning to go?”

  Mom works on arranging my veil and says nothing. Lena and my sisters hurry out the door, where Hazel is waiting with a big smile.

  “It’s time.”

  Chapter 9

  CONNOR

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Dom’s rumbling question at my side reminds me that I’ve taken approximately fifteen deep breaths in the past minute. I probably sound like I’m close to hyperventilating, and it is his oath-bound duty to help me.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” I nod firmly as Dom squeezes my shoulder. “Just so fucking ready to get married.”

  Dom’s broad smile calms me. Behind him, the rest of my brothers are lined up: Grayson winking over at Hazel on the bridesmaid side, Weston smiling out at Nova in the second row, and Maverick squinting off into the distance, probably trying to communicate telepathically with Scarlett. In front of us, rows and rows of white folding chairs spread out, all of them occupied by our guests. A buttercup-yellow path runs down the center aisle. All the bridesmaids have gathered on the other side of the yellow aisle, and while the three violinists at the back of the gathering switch to Pachelbel’s Canon in D, I could projectile puke all over again with how anxious and excited I am to see my almost-wife.

  It doesn’t matter that I saw her in the dress. I haven’t seen her today, and every cell in my body is on the verge of revolting if I do not get her in my sight in the next thirty seconds.

  “He’s gonna pass out,” Grayson murmurs from further down the line.

  “You’re one to talk,” I shoot back.

  “It’s a known defect!” Gray says. “We Daly men can’t handle the wedding wait.” And he’s not wrong. Both he and Dom were in very similar positions at different points this year, and I won’t be surprised if we watch Weston and Maverick fall into the same boat soon enough.

  Suddenly, Jack Cabana rounds the corner. I can see Kinsley’s arm, and nothing more. My organs begin to dissolve. Everyone whooshes to standing, and I feel like I might actually crumple to the ground. Kinsley emerges from behind the corner next. My heart stops beating. Dom’s hand is on my shoulder, the only thing reminding me I have a body, as I absorb this gorgeous woman.

  The picture didn’t do her justice. She is radiance and purity and endless smiles and every bit of everything I’ve ever loved about her. I would run down the aisle just so I could touch her sooner if I could remember how to use my legs.

  “He’s crying,” Grayson tells Weston and Maverick.

  I am. The tears have been in hiding for a week. I wipe at a cheek as Kinsley floats down the aisle toward me, the netted veil covering the ear-to-ear grin she wears. When she glides to a stop in front of me, she hugs her father. He flips the veil for her, and then she steps up to me. I grab her by the hips.

  “No touching the bride yet,” the minister says before clearing his throat.

  “Sorry,” I say, palms up. “Got a little excited.”

  Kinsley shakes with laughter, wiping at her eyes already. I take a moment to look her over as everyone in the audience takes their seats. Everything around us—the low rush of the lake churning against the rocky shore, the hundreds of people in attendance, the brilliantly crisp and perfect September day—all fades away as I behold her. I have never seen a more beautiful sight. My gaze falls on a little pin above her right breast. It says, “I’m the bride.”

  I jerk my chin toward her chest. “Did you think I’d forget?”

  She shakes with more laughter, pressing a hand to her chest. “We couldn’t get the mustard stain out entirely. This was Plan B.”

  Another round of laughter and tears overcomes her, which triggers my own. The ceremony hasn’t even started yet and we’re a mess.

  The ceremony turns into a dreamy film reel from there. I’m both tuned in and drifting above the clouds as the minister reads through the ceremony. We light the unity candle—barely, given the lake breeze—and recite our vows. When Kinsley reaches the part about loving me forever at 3500 megahertz, my tears turn to laughter because at that same moment, a seagull uprising takes place not far from the shore. They are fighting over something, and the squalling is distracting. Uproarious. Kinsley dissolves in the middle of her vows, and I gather her into my arms where we laugh and laugh and laugh. And only we know why.

  And then, the most important words come. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  The minister gestures at us, and we take our cue. I cup Kinsley’s face in my hands and kiss my sunbeam so hard that time seems to shudder to a stop. All I can sense is her brightness, her love, her warmth. When we break apart, we’re both crying again.

  “Thank you for giving us a chance three years ago,” I tell her. “Even though I didn’t deserve it.”

  “You’re lucky you’re impossible to resist,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes. I take her hand and we face the crowd, bringing our hands into the air. Everyone cheers as we make our way down the aisle. We head to the edge of the flower-lined patio, whe
re we can greet everyone before reporting for pictures. My brothers bounce down the middle aisle, waving at people in the audience like they’re celebrities. The bridesmaids follow, London waddling last in line. Kinsley nudges me a moment later.

  “Does London look okay to you?”

  I watch her as she slowly takes her place at the end of the line. She’s outrageously pregnant in her buttercup gown, which is pretty much all I notice. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she?”

  “Don’t you think she looks…woozy, or something?”

  “I mean, she’s ready to pop sometime in the next two weeks, babe,” I remind her. “I think ‘woozy’ is her natural state now.”

  “Right, but…” Kinsley shakes her head, eyes on her new sister-in-law. She pokes her head out of line to call for Dom’s attention. “Dom! Does your wife need to sit down?”

  Dom peers down the line. “London! Do you want to sit down?”

  “Why would I want to sit down?” she calls out, cocking a hip, her yellow and white bouquet looking like it might double as a weapon if Dom’s not careful.

  “You’ve been on your feet for a while,” Dom tells her.

  London lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Dominic Daly, I can stand on my own two feet for more than a half hour, thankyouverymuch.”

  Dom sends Kinsley a smirk. “We tried.”

  The violin trio plays a rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” while our guests file out row by row to greet us. The early afternoon kisses us, the puffy autumn clouds the perfect backdrop as we shake hands, share greetings, give hugs. Once our guest-greeting duties are over and the guests have been herded into the reception hall for appetizers and music, the photographer signals for us. It’s bridal party picture time.