Page 56 of Sand in My Boots

A groomsman interrupts our conversation. “Um, Jonah. They want to know if you’re about ready to begin. The natives are getting restless.”

Jonah’s eyes study mine for a beat. “It’s your wedding. They’ll wait.”

The guy next to me snorts. “It’s Erica’s wedding. Jonah’s a mere pawn in her chess game.”

What an interesting analogy.

Jonah seems unaffected by it, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels the same way.

“Well, I’m going to take my seat. Take as much time as you need.” I’m not sure that’s the best advice, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment. “Wedding planner” isn’t ever a title I’d like to wear.

Jonah pushes off the tree, but he’s still a little uneasy on his feet. Instead, he stays against it, holding his hand out. “Thanks, man. I owe you one. Have a drink or two on me tonight.” A sly smile graces his lips.

With a hearty shake, I exclaim, “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

Walking back to the guests, there’s a lot of chatter among the rows of people. Words like “jilted” and “runaway” flitter to my ears.

“Nope, a seasick groom,” I mutter, making my way back to my seat.

“What the heck happened? Is this wedding happening?” Juli fires the minute I’m in range.

“Just another day in the life of a recreation director.”

She glowers, studying me. “That’s all you’re giving me?”

“Yep, sweet pea. That’s all you’re getting. Have to keep some mystery in this ‘ship.’”

“This ‘ship’?” she squawks. “What does that even mean?”

From the corner of my eye, I spot the guys heading over, signaling the start of the ceremony. My lips meet her cheek, then slide to her ear. “If I must, I’ll explain later.” I pull away to a hitch in her breath.

I remind myself to stop riling her up, that nothing can happen for hours. Many hours. At least there will be drinks. And dancing. Which normally wouldn’t excite me, but getting to hold Juliana close to me as we sway on the dance floor? Sign me up.

Casual, my ass, my brain taunts.

The ceremony is brief, and Jonah mostly hides how he’s feeling well. Let’s hope Erica isn’t the wiser until later.

As for the reception, it flies by. Between drinks, food, and dancing, Juli and I are a sweaty mess by the end.

Happy, sweaty messes. And not just from the alcohol. She’s consumed her fair share, but I fed her bread all night long. Along with cake and other desserts from the dessert bar. I can’t be certain she ate any “real” food, but I’m not her keeper. She’s a grown adult, which she made clear as she stomped away to join her friends on the dance floor.

Jonah pulls me aside as we’re saying goodbye. With an enthusiastic handshake, he thanks me for earlier. “Seriously, man. Much appreciated.” The words are a bit slurred, and his tie is askew. “There’s an unofficial breakfast at Sage Cafe tomorrow. Stop on by.”

“Will do. Glad everything worked out.”

After hugging Juli for what feels like forever, Erica launches herself at me. She’s more wasted than her groom, girly giggles swallowed by my chest as she burrows into me.

“Come to breakfast. It’s . . . somewhere. Tomorrow. At some time. I don’t know. A little later. Because I was not getting up early on the first day of being Mrs. Erica Fontaine. If you catch my drift.” Her eyes do this weird wink-blink thing. My brain can’t dwell, so her comments go in one ear and out the other. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she tugs me down lower. “She doesn’t do casual.” Her words are accompanied by a headshake, and a more forlorn expression invades her face. I’m so caught off guard, I don’t realize she’s still hanging on me until Jonah drags her off. “Don’t forget that.” She points a finger at me, trying to hold it steady but failing miserably.

Still reeling and trying to wrap my head around the “advice,” I squeak in a high-pitched voice, “I-I’ll do my best.”

Beside me, Juli entwines our fingers together, too buzzed to notice how clammy mine are. She struggles to hold on to her clutch and sandals with the other, so I offer to take the shoes. You would have thought I’d given her a brand-new car with the way her face radiates happiness. Her head meets my biceps, and I waste no time tucking her in closer.

“You can carry my shoes any day of the week, Came.”

“I’ll be sure to get right on that,” I deadpan with a chuckle.

The walk back to her suite is slow but not far. The moonlight casts a reflection on the water, guiding our way, along with the lights on the sidewalk.