That’s when Tay slips in.
“Wow, you’ve done a great job with all this.” I almost don’t recognize her. Her platinum hair’s swinging around hershoulders, and in place of her khaki shorts and destination t-shirt, she’s wearing a sleeveless sundress that shows off toned arms and shoulders.
“Oh, this wasn’t me. I just got here a little bit ago. Anyway, I imagine you’re used to all this…” I say.
Because Tay’s an organizer as well.
As Luna’s two bridesmaids, we’ve shared more than a dozen emails back and forth over the past few months. Traveling as an international tour guide, Tay sent hers from all over the world.
We both take a moment to appreciate the combined effect of the decorations against the backdrop of the event hall’s massive windows, featuring nothing but endless ocean and sky.
“Yeah, no.” she laughs. “I handle the occasional dinners, but I’m not one for decorating…” But then she turns back to me. “Did you get your room situation squared away?”
Recalling the unexpected upgrade, flowers, and the unopened bottle of champagne, I grin. “We did.”
“And Grandma’s staying with the boys.” Tay tilts her head, pins her eyes on me, and lifts her brows with playful curiosity. “So… Beckett.”
I blink. “Yeah?”
“You and Luna really set unrealistic expectations for the rest of us, you know that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hot. You both found hot husbands.”
“Oh.” For all Beckett’s sins, she isn’t wrong. “Must’ve been all those Disney princes Mom raised us on. She set the bar unreasonably high.” I give her a bright, practiced smile.
But Tay just watches me a beat longer.
“You looked surprised when he showed up earlier. He didn’t fly in with the rest of you?”
My smile wavers but I’m saved from having to respond tothatwhen my sister appears in the open door.
“Oh my God! Ashley, this is amazing!” Luna’s voice carries across the room, and before I can brace myself, she’s running at me, her yellow patchwork skirt flying out behind her. She throws her arms around my neck as if we hadn’t seen one another for weeks instead of a few hours.
She pulls back just as quickly to take in the room—delicate garland around the tables, soft gold accents, and floral centerpieces arranged in miniature saucepans, each one filled with herbs instead of flowers: rosemary, basil, lavender. Little nods to Luna’s cooking show.
Every table has a framed photo taken over the past year: The happy couple walking along frothy waves in front of Gran’s old beach house, a few from their tour of the southwest, and a number of random couple selfies.
“When did you have time to do all this?” Luna asks.
I cock one brow. “Why did you think I wanted all those pictures?”
But she’s shaking her head, studying one of the napkins I had printed with tiny buses and “Noah and Luna” stamped in silver.
“Well, it’s incredible.” She spins, spotting familiar faces at the entrance. “Patty and Denise!” She skips a little.
Two women in their late fifties approach us. The taller one, Patty, offers a reserved smile, while her wife, Denise, enthusiastically engulfs my sister in a hug—muumuu and all.
They’re a few of the friends Luna made on that bus tour last year—the couple she’d been helping with ideas for the bed-and-breakfast they wanted to open.
“Patty and Denise—you remember my sister from the engagement party?”
“Of course we do,” Patty says warmly. “Good to see you again, Ashley. I hear you’ve been helping our Luna pull everything together. And getting married on a cruise? Very romantic.”
“We wanted to keep it small,” Luna says, her eyes sparkling. “But make it really special.”
“I think you’ve hit your mark,” Denise adds, her eyes scanning the room. “Although I”m not sure I’d call this small.”
