Even if I did—humiliatingly—go to the hotel bar last night after Luna went to bed, secretly hoping he might be on shift. Or not on shift but somewhere we might run into each other. I never did find out why he was tending bar when he’s not a bartender. Unless that was all BS.
No.
Stop it, Isla.
Spoiler alert: he wasn’t there. I’m an idiot. It was a one-night stand and the best sex of my life, and that’s it. That’s all. Which is for the best, because my life is a shitshow right now, and the last thing I need is another complication to add to the mix.
“Are you crushing on Rocco?” Luna asks me.
“Of course not. Sexy mobster driver slash bodyguards are so not my thing.” I realize how insensitive that sounds and wince. “No offense. It’s just…this is a part of your world I may never understand.”
“None taken. I get it. The life is a lot to wrap your head around, but I guess since I was born into this world, it isn’t quite as bananas for me as it must be for you.”
Bananasis a really nice way of putting it. I’m a proud nerdy girl. The night before last was the most adventurous thing I’ve done in…maybe ever. I don’t understand shady underworld dealings, billionaire criminal enterprises, or violence. I’m not sure how Luna handles that side of things, but she and Priest obviously love each other so much that nothing else matters.
“I’m just saying that, objectively, he’s a good-looking man,” I add for good measure.
Luna grins again. “Noted. I guess Rocco isn’t the source of your hickey, then. By the way, the makeup team did a fantastic job of covering that up for you. I can barely even see it.”
I groaned. “You can still see it?”
I’d been to the makeup duo before checking in on Luna. She is next in the torture chamber, not that she needed even a hint of makeup. She’s flawlessly gorgeous on her own, the lucky bitch.
“I only know it’s there because I saw it yesterday.” Her grin fades. “No matching one today?”
My cheeks are on fire.
“I told you, it was just a fling.”
“With the best sex ever. Right.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You’ll be here for a few more days. Maybe you can find him after the wedding’s over.”
“Nope,” I answer instantly, popping thepfor emphasis. “Not happening. I’m here for you. That’s all.”
“And maybe the breathtaking views,” she teases.
“Eh, those are just kind of whatever.”
Luna laughs. “Okay, how are we doing on time? I don’t have my phone.”
I’m in charge of keeping this show running, so I’m clearly failing at my bestie maid of honor duties. I check my phone. “We’re good on time, but you need to get to hair and makeup. The flowers were delivered while you were dressing, and they’re amazing.”
Massive sprays of white hydrangeas for Luna’s bridal bouquet and pale-blue roses for the rest. Her beachy-chic theme has come together perfectly. We head into the main area of the bungalow, where the rest of the bridal party is waiting. I met them yesterday—they’re her husband’s cousins, and they’re all way more chill than I had envisioned they would be, being a part of the mob world.
They exclaim over Luna’s dress, as thrilled for her as I am, and then we hustle her over to hair and makeup for the finishing touches. Somehow, I manage to keep my tears to a minimum by listening to the lighthearted banter of the bridal party.
It’s going to be an incredible day.
I just know it.
The violinist is playingthe walk-in songs of the bridesmaids—a different, handpicked song for each one—as I wait my turn, bare toes in the sand. The day is hot, the sun bright. I’m sweating in this dress, and I hope I don’t have swamp stains under my tits. But nothing is going to get me down.
My girl is about to walk down the aisle. I sniffle again, because I feel like a proud mama bear and I can’t help myself. The chorus of “Birds of a Feather” by Billie Eilish starts up on the violin, and suddenly, it’s my turn.
Smiling, I slowly make my way down the aisle before the intimate gathering on the beach, the gorgeous sea an incredible backdrop. The photographers are snapping away and all eyes are on me, so I bite my lip and start reciting Shakespeare in my head to avoid weeping like a baby and ruining my makeup and the ceremony both.
I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against…
A muttered curse catches my attention, so low I can barely make it out, but I’d know that voice anywhere. The last time I heard it, it was saying filthy things to me.
