“Katie. Seriously. It’s not that kind of wedding. There’s not even an aisle. Let’s just enjoy the spontaneous island getaway, and—”
“Devi!” Wiley snapped his fingers to get my attention. At least he wasn’t calling me Debbie anymore.
“Yes?” I said slowly.
“When we get to the resort, do you want a massage first, or a tour of the grounds?”
Katie and I exchanged a look. “Massage.”
“And how much time will you want for hair and makeup tomorrow—I saidorange flowers,” he barked in the direction of his earpiece. “The bride wants orange. No, not peach.Orange.Bright orange, like when you cut into an orange. It’sfruit. Excuse me,” he said to me, returning entirely to his earpiece conversation.
I looked at Katie. She smiled uneasily and sipped her champagne.
Dane’s team had been working their asses off on this, and I probably would’ve been grateful if this was a wedding I was actually looking forward to.
As it turned out, Dane even had aconciergefor such occasions.
As far as I knew, that job only existed in nice hotels. But apparently this concierge worked for Dane’s family and took care of such things as scouting the globe to find them suitable properties, vehicles, vacations and other luxuries, and now, the perfect details for an impromptu beach wedding.
Both the concierge and Wiley kept asking me what I wanted—pink or white, hot or cold, sitting or standing. And I just kept telling them,I don’t care. Just have someone marry us on the beach and bring me alcohol. I like anything with wine in it. Spritzers, sangria, mimosas, whatever they’ve got. In a pinch, I will also accept tequila. The rest will take care of itself.
Honestly, I’d worked harder on Katie’s wedding. I’d spent months helping plan that event.
Because that wedding actually meant something.
“I just never really foresaw your wedding going down like this,” Katie muttered next to me. Maybe she thought I’d lost my mind or something, for a few minutes, when I first told her this was happening. But she knew me. She knew I was generally level-headed, and when I decided something was happening, it was happening.
There was no going back on this.
At least she’d get to be a beautiful bridesmaid tomorrow. We’d both wear simple, cream-colored dresses, beachy, crocheted things that Dane’s concierge found for me yesterday. We’d hold the orange flowers, or whatever Wiley managed to arrange, and we’d look cute as fuck. Really, this was an opportunity to dress up, do a nice photo shoot with my best friend, and drink liquor on the beach.
So, Dane would be there, too. Whatever.
“Let’s be honest,” I said quietly. “I never really saw myself getting married at all until two days ago.”
“Devi,” my best friend said doubtfully.
“I’m serious. When have I ever talked about getting married?”
“Okay. Never. But still. I figured someday you’d fall madly in love and it would just be a given.”
“Yes, and that day may still come. A divorcee can still fall madly in love. Especially when she’s already divorced, wealthy and living the life of her dreams at age thirty. Plenty of time for Mr. Right to come along.”
“Hmm.” My very sweet and usually agreeable best friend made a strangely disagreeable sound. I wasn’t sure that was a sound I’d ever heard from her before. Maybe it was a new motherhood thing? “What do you think your groom is doing right now?”
Right now, Dane was in the other, identical vehicle, right behind us. With Rolf, Shane, and some stiff, old, British man who seemed to work for Dane’s family. A valet or something?
“Same as on the jet,” I told Katie. “He’s reading the paper. Business news. He’s probably also checking on his investments, if he can get online. And financial reports for his various businesses.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that’s what he does every evening.”
Katie narrowed her eyes at me a little. She didn’t often give me that dubious, untrusting look. Actually, she never gave me that look.
She’d given it to me a few times since Dane Davenport came on the scene, though.
“He mentioned it,” I said simply.
