Chapter Twenty-Four
JULES
The sun dappledthrough the lush canopy of Memorial Park, casting flickering shadows across the vibrant green grass. Located in the northeastern quadrant of Dove Key, the park had a lovely open area along with a baseball diamond and a sandy beach. The diamond was empty, and we were well away from the beach revelers, making for a serene, blissful atmosphere. Or it should have been. I plastered on a smile, willing my face muscles to cooperate as I helped Lacey spread out a red-and-white checkered picnic blanket.
“Jules, you’re a lifesaver,” Lacey said, arranging platters of sandwiches and fruit. “I don’t know how I’d get through this wedding chaos without you.”
I forced out a laugh that I prayed sounded heartfelt. “What are best friends for? I live to serve as your personal wedding planner, slash therapist, slash punching bag.”
Daniel plopped down beside Lacey, grinning. “Don’tforgetvoice of reasonwhen she threatens to elope every other day.”
“Two times!” Lacey protested, swatting his arm playfully. “I threatened to elope twice, darling.”
Their easy banter twisted something painful inside me. I busied myself with straightening the napkins, trying to keep my carefully constructed mask from crumbling.
Randy passed a sandwich to each of us. “Well, we can officially check off the rehearsal now. Hopefully, the weather will be this nice for the real deal.”
I glanced at the vivid blue sky with its soft, puffy clouds and nodded. “I’ll second that.”
“Hey, gang!” Chase’s cheerful voice rang out as he approached, carrying a cooler. “As requested, I come bearing liquid refreshment.”
I looked up, meeting his eyes. A complicated mix of gratitude and unease washed over me. Chase’s presence was a welcome buffer but also a reminder of the tangled web of relationships at Sunset Siesta.
“My brotherly hero,” Lacey declared, making grabby hands at the cooler. “Please tell me there’s something stronger than lemonade in there.”
Chase winked conspiratorially. “I may have snuck in a bottle of wine. For toasting purposes only, of course.”
After Chase uncorked the wine and we drank it out of red Solo cups, we discussed the upcoming ceremony, only a week away now.
And a week since Eli and I had ended…
Both Lacey’s and my dresses were ready and gorgeous, and we’d just finished the official rehearsal here at Memorial Park. My best friend was on top of the world, and I was miserable. But I laughed merrily as we made a plastic toast with our cups to love and marriage.
As we settled into lunch, the conversation turned to a commercial strip mall Chase was designing, a reminder that the resort wasn’t the only slice of the architect’s pie. Of course thoughts of the resort inevitably brought back Eli.
Lacey’s gaze flickered to me, her sunny smile faltering. “You hanging in there, sweetie?”
My fingers clenched around a napkin. “I’m fine. Today’s about you and Daniel, not me.”
Lacey shook her head. “Jules, you don’t have to pretend. We’re your friends. We care about you.”
The gentleness in her voice threatened to undo me. I blinked rapidly, fighting back the sting of tears. “I appreciate that, but really, I’m okay. Let’s focus on the important stuff, like making sure Daniel doesn’t trip walking down the aisle.”
“Hey!” Daniel protested with a laugh.
Chase cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Listen, Jules… I just wanted to say I’m sorry about how you and Eli ended up. I thought you two made a good couple. Your differences complemented each other, but maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”
His words, clearly meant to be kind, were like a knife twisting in my gut. I sucked in a sharp breath, the loss of what could have been hitting me with fresh intensity. “Thanks. But sometimes good isn’t enough, is it?”
Lacey’s hazel eyes met mine, filled with sympathy and something deeper—understanding. She’d known Eli for years, long before I’d arrived on Dove Key.
“You deserve to be happy, Jules. If not with Eli, there’s someone out there for you.”
I swallowed hard. Because that was the problem. We’d broken up a week ago, but I didn’t want to be with anyoneelse. And I still couldn’t figure out how that had happened. How I’d managed to fall head over heels for Eli Coleridge.
The weight of regret settled over me like a heavy blanket. I’d known from the start that getting involved with Eli was a risk. Hell, it was practically a textbook example ofconflict of interest. But I’d ignored every red flag, every warning bell.
“God, I was so stupid,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “I let myself believe in this… this fantasy. As if duct tape and beer could ever truly mesh with spreadsheets and profit margins.”
