Natalie headed into the dining room and was relieved to discover that she no longer felt all that nervous, as if her anger at the bridesmaids had swallowed up her anxiety. “There you are!”Tess said, hurrying over to thrust a microphone in Natalie’s hand. “You’re up.”
Natalie turned it on and braced for the ear-piercing whine of the speakers before remembering that she was at Sandpiper Island Yacht Club, not the ballroom of the Cleveland Airport Marriott. The members shelled out fifty thousand dollars a year to protect themselves from all manner of irritants, from eardrum-bursting AV systems to watery martinis to servers who cleared your plate before others had finished eating. “Hi everyone,” Natalie said, her voice echoing throughout the room. “I’m Natalie, Marigold’s maid of honor. Marigold is devastated not to be here tonight, but we’re recording the toasts so she doesn’t miss anything. And just to be clear, the storm was an act of god. There was nothing Marigold could’ve done to prevent it.” Natalie paused for dramatic effect. “Not like the time she arrived at the airport, only to discover that you need six months of passport eligibility to enter Indonesia.” Everyone laughed good-naturedly. “That’s how I knew she was serious about Jonathan—unlike with previous boyfriends, she’d start getting ready for their datesbeforeshe was actually due at the restaurant. Shocking, I know.” There was more laughter, still knowing and affectionate, which was a good sign. So far, no one seemed to be deeply offended by or suspicious of Marigold’s absence. “But as a second-year resident, Jonathan’s free time was very limited, and Marigold didn’t want to miss a moment with him. They say love can perform miracles, and trust me, I’ve seen it happen. I saw love turn Marigold Harding—the girl who’smissedmore flights than most people take in a lifetime—into a punctual person. It’s a privilege to watch two people you care about fall in love. I’ve known both Jonathan and Marigold a long time and witnessed the rise andfall of many relationships, but I knew from the beginning that their connection was something special. Sometimes looking for love feels like sending radio waves into the darkness of space—you can go years without any response, and then just when you start to wonder if we really are alone in the universe, you hear that voice. That someone who’s tuned to your exact frequency. That’s what it’s like with Marigold and Jonathan.” A chorus ofawwws drifted up from the tables, and Natalie looked around the room until her gaze landed on Jonathan, who was staring at her with a blank expression, his shoulders oddly rigid. “So let’s raise a glass to Marigold and Jonathan,” she continued hastily, eager to relinquish the spotlight. “Thank you for making us believe in true love.”
Natalie made her way to her table, blushing and nodding her thanks at the handful of people who mouthedGreat toast!or raised a glass as she passed. By the time she slid into her seat, Jonathan was smiling again, seemingly relaxed, and Natalie was able to convince herself that she’d merely imagined the strange look on his face.
CHAPTER SEVENTEENOlivia
By the time dinner was over, the rain had finally stopped, which meant that the after-party could take place on the beach as planned, bonfire and all. The storm was apparently no match for Tess’s “manifesting.”
The bonfire was near the yacht club, on the east side of the island, the portion that faced the ocean. If you set sail from the beach, you wouldn’t strike land again until you reached the South of France. The thought of that vast emptiness usually made Olivia shudder, but tonight the surf seemed strangely calm in the wake of the storm, and the crash of the glassy waves sounded more cheerful than ominous.
Olivia drove Zack, Andrew, and Natalie over in her golf cart, joining the caravan of chauffeured carts that’d been booked for the evening. The path down to the beach was too steep for carts to take them all the way, so the wedding guests all got out at the top of the bluff and shuffled down the dark, rocky path—nosmall feat considering how much most people had had to drink at the rehearsal dinner.This is a lawsuit waiting to happen, Olivia thought as she slid out of her cart.
Andrew eyed the steep, narrow path before them. “Are you going to be okay getting down there? Need a hand?” Olivia’s brain raced to perform the cost-benefit analysis she applied to nearly every decision. Was Andrew more attracted to tough, independent women or was he the type who liked to rescue a damsel in (very mild) distress? Then he extended his hand, and Olivia’s body went into autopilot, unwilling to forgo the chance to lean against him. He wrapped his arm around her so she could keep her weight off her injured foot and guided her down toward the beach. Up close, he smelled faintly of scotch and salt; Olivia had to resist the urge to inhale.
“I’m surprised you signed off on this location,” Andrew said. “Seems like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Youtry convincing Marigold that something’s a bad idea.” The bonfire had been the only part of the wedding weekend agenda Marigold had insisted on, leaving the rest up to Lulu and Tess. “She said she’d ‘seen it all in a dream,’ but I think it’s more likely she stumbled across something on Instagram.”
“It’s remarkable what wedding planning does to people’s brains. My sister made it her whole personality, then went through this weird withdrawal phase after. Like postparty depression.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t seem uncommon.”
“I can’t see you losing your mind over napkin rings.”
“Because I’mfamouslylaid-back and chill.”
Andrew laughed. “I’d never call you ‘chill.’ But you expend so much energy on stuff that matters, it doesn’t feel like you’d havemuch left over to worry about trivial shit. Those bridezilla types are the ones with too much time on their hands.”
“?‘Stuff that matters,’?” Olivia repeated with a smile. “That’s nice. Zack thinks I’ve been ‘tricked into believing moving money from one corporation’s account to another is a matter of life and death.’?”
Andrew stopped walking. “He said that?” he asked with a mix of surprise and concern. “I’m sorry, but that’s really not cool.”
Shit, Olivia thought. She’d forgotten that Zack was supposed to be her boyfriend. “He was just joking,” she said quickly. “You must know his humor, since you read his work.”
“Okay, good. Otherwise he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you.” The conviction in his voice made Olivia’s stomach flutter with a combination of excitement and guilt; it was thrilling to think that Andrew felt protective of her, but she didn’t want to unfairly cast Zack as the type of man who’d belittle his girlfriend.
They stepped onto the sand and Andrew waited what felt like an extra beat before letting go of Olivia’s waist. Up ahead, the catering staff had built a huge bonfire and erected folding tables covered with ingredients for s’mores, and guests were already swaying in time with the steel drum band, drinks held aloft in the air.Marigold would’ve loved this, she thought with more wistfulness than frustration. She still wasn’t sure what was going on with her sister—whether she’d actually gone to fetch her birth certificate or if something more serious was afoot—but there was nothing Olivia could do about it now, not without creating even more tension and drama. She just had to hope Marigold got on that flight tomorrow so that everything could continue as planned.
Andrew glanced at his Apple Watch. “Excuse me. I should call Emerson back. I think she needs directions.”
As he pulled out his phone and headed down the beach, Lulu shuffled toward Olivia, beaming from the depths of a full-length puffy coat. She’d always gotten cold easily, and these days anything under seventy degrees left her shivering. “Sooo…” she said, eyes flashing with delight. “How long has this been going on?”
“Nothing’s going on!” Olivia said, watching Andrew out of the corner of her eye.At least, not yet.
“Really?” Lulu’s face fell slightly. “Andrew told Bill that you and Zack were an item.”
“Oh, right. Me andZack. Well, it’s new. And not really official or anything.”
Lulu brightened again. “Got it. I promise not to ask probing questions. But I’m so happy, Livvy. Zack’s such a sweet boy. Remember that care package he sent last time I was in the hospital?”
“Um, no?”
“I went into the hospital a few days after he and Jonathan came over for Thanksgiving, and Zack sent me a bunch of the books we’d discussed at dinner. And some fancy tea and cookies.”
“You… definitely never mentioned that.” Olivia imagined all the steps that would entail: going to the bookstore and the gourmet grocery store, finding the right-sized box, texting Jonathan for the room number at the hospital, standing in line at the post office. It was a lot of work to cheer up a person he’d only met a handful of times.
“Well, he’s a good egg, as my grandmother would’ve said.”
