Epilogue 1
“Stupid, party of one? Oh. That’s me. Is my table ready?”
-Carolina
The lyrics from “Another One Bites the Dust” zing through my head as I watch Celia prepare for her beach wedding. I don’t know why we couldn’t have a beach wedding in Florida, but Celia insisted on a destination wedding to the Cayman Islands.
Something about “two birds, one stone.”
Whatever.
She is the second of my siblings to skip down the aisle deliriously in love within the last year.
Yeah, yeah.I know she was married before, but her first husband was a Grade-A Asshole. And under the rules of Grade-A Assholery, if you marry and divorce one, you get a do-over.
Flint Mendota is Celia’s do-over. He’s over the moon in love with her. And I know he’ll be good to her. If not, I know 42 places to bury a body. Those are just in Flamingo Cove. Ask me about the rest of the country.
Plus, I’m pretty sure my brother would bring the shovel.
Shit.What the hell is that pain in my chest? Could that be the spicy barbecue we had last night at the rehearsal dinner?
Yes. Yes. That’s probably it.
I reach into the mini-fridge in the bridal prep room. I pull out a Sprite and pop the tab, then throw back a long drink. I’d rather there be vodka in it, but Celia made us swear to stay sober until after the vows.
“You look beautiful,mija,” Mama Saber fusses with Celia’s hair.
Celia touches her short choppy hairdo for the hundredth time today. “Maybe I should wear the wig?”
“No way, sis,” Wysdom hugs her from behind. “Now we’re twinsies! Except your hair is that beautiful brown-cinnamon-Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Cover Model color.”
Indigestion rears its ugly head, and Sprite isn’t getting it done.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I tell the room.
“Where are you going?” Celia looks up in a panic. “You’re the Maid of Honor!”
“Relax, Bridezilla,” I kiss her on the cheek. “I’m going to take a lap around the resort. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I step out of the room into 110% humidity that smacks me in the face. You’d think I would be used to it, growing up in Florida. But these days, I lived in Washington, DC, where the weather was milder. And my favorite time of year was coming up. The cherry blossoms would be blooming when I got home.
I was so busy thinking about cherry blossoms and trying to find some antacids. I walked straight into a wall.
“Oof!”
A wall that complains about me walking into it.
Strong hands grab my biceps. I shake my head and look up into a pair of emerald green eyes. Déjà vu hits me hard. I frown.
“I’m sorry. I need to watch where I’m going!”
Green Eyes smirks at me. “It’s alright, Carolina. Happens to the best of us. I often walk around with my head in my phone or a computer game, and all of a sudden - WHAMMO! I’ll walk straight into a wall, or chair, or desk, or Flint. I know people say multitasking isn’t a thing, that you can’t truly get anything done, but I beg to differ. I multitask all the time and get a lot of stuff done. You know what I mean?”
I frowned harder at the rambling man. He’s taller than me, but not by much. His blond hair is spiky and messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. And he’s wearing a tuxedo t-shirt. Not a tux, a t-shirt that looks like one. “Do I know you?”
He smiles. My lady bits pull out pom-poms and begin cheering.They’re such sluts.
“Uh, yeah,” he clears his throat and holds out his hand to shake. “Rand Kestrel. I work with your brother and soon-to-be brother-in-law.”
