"I'll call you a cab?” Nadine piped up automatically from nearby, then caught herself and smiled ruefully. "Sorry. Old habits."
"I can handle it," Julian assured her, fishing his phone from his pocket.
Jess remained at the window, but her posture had changed. She felt a surge of gratitude so sudden and powerful that it caught in her throat.
Gratitude for Sloane's unflinching honesty, for Ellen's insight, for the unfinished dress that had somehow known what she herself hadn't been ready to see.
For her own courage to finally admit what she truly felt.
"Thank you," Jess whispered, the words not directed to anyone present, but to the memory of a woman who had understood that timing mattered more than plans, that readiness couldn't be scheduled.
Her fingers found the loose button again, and with a gentle tug, Jess freed it from its remaining thread. She looked at the small circle resting in her palm - no longer attached, but not lost either.
"You doin’ OK bride-to-be?” Sloane asked, appearing beside her with uncanny timing.
"Yes," Jess replied smiling gently. “It sounds weird but thanks - for doing what you just did." She grimaced. “Though maybe a little heads-up first would’ve been nice.”
Sloane studied her face, then nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever she found there. "Truth always outs," she said,her usual acerbic tone softened by genuine care. "I just gave it a little push is all. Good timing on the old lady’s part though, eh? Stopped you getting all the way up the altar before you - or Julian - admitted it was all wrong.”
Jess smiled, feeling the expression reach her eyes for the first time that day. "Ellen would’ve approved, I think."
"Ellen," Sloane declared, with quiet certainty, "already knew. So did the dress.“
43
The following morning,sunlight stretched across Serenity Beach, turning the sand into a canvas of gold and amber as small waves rolled in with gentle persistence.
Jess walked beside Julian, their feet sinking into the damp sand where tide had recently receded, leaving behind a scattering of shells and pebbles polished smooth by the Atlantic.
Neither had spoken much since she’d called and asked him to meet her here this morning, the weight of everything hanging between them like the mist that still clung to distant dunes.
Now he winced as a gull cried overhead, the sound piercing through what Jess imagined must be a substantial hangover. His usually immaculate appearance had given way to rumpled khakis rolled unevenly at the ankles and a wrinkled oxford shirt with sleeves pushed up his forearms. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his movements had the deliberate care of someone whose head might shatter at any sudden motion.
"There's aspirin in my bag," she offered, gesturing to the small canvas tote slung over her shoulder. "And water."
"Thanks," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "But I think I deserve this particular headache." He attempted a lopsided smile. "Punishment for making a spectacle of myself last night."
“You didn’t.” Jess found a smooth piece of driftwood half-buried in the sand and sat, patting the space beside her. The wood was sun-warmed and smooth beneath her palm. "Let's sit."
Julian lowered himself onto it with careful movements, squinting against the strengthening light that danced across the water's surface. A breeze carrying the scent of salt and seaweed ruffled his hair, and for a moment, they simply sat watching the hypnotic rhythm of waves meeting the shore.
“Besides last night,” Jess began, her voice gentle but direct. “First, I think we need to talk about what you said in your rehearsal dinner speech. About Megan.“
Julian exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the horizon where a fishing boat made its way toward deeper waters. "I was hoping you might chalk all that stuff down to alcohol and jet-lag-induced exhaustion."
"We both know it’s more than that." Jess pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I'd like to hear the truth now, though. The real version."
The seconds stretched between them, filled only by the persistent shush of waves and the distant call of gulls. When Julian finally spoke, his voice had lost the defensive edge of the previous evening.
"When I knew Megan back then," he admitted, fingers absently tracing patterns in the sand beside the driftwood. “we had coffee, then dinner the following week. She was... different from anyone I'd dated before. Thoughtful. Present. She listened, like what I was saying actually mattered."
Jess nodded, giving him space to continue.
"We went out a few times over a period of about three weeks. Slow, but I felt something... building all the same." He glanced at Jess briefly, then back to the horizon. "Then came that dinner party at her place. She'd invited friends, colleagues. You were there, obviously."
"I remember," Jess said softly. "You spent most of the evening talking about corporate law. I teased you about billing me for the lecture."
A genuine smile flickered across his face. "You were the only one who challenged me all night. Everyone else was nodding politely, but you just cut right through it." The smile faded as he continued. “I didn’t think anything of it though - you were fun and gorgeous, but as far as I was concerned, just another friend of Megan’s. A few days later, she dumped me, even though we’d barely gotten started. She said we wanted different things, that the timing was wrong.” His shoulders slumped slightly. "So then I pursued you. Partly because you intrigued me and I was attracted to you obviously, but also because..." He hesitated, the admission clearly difficult.
