“I think we should give you a real wedding tomorrow,” I say over breakfast.
Jules lets her spoon fall into her bowl. “Thank God. I was waiting for someone to suggest it.”
Dane glances at Livia. She brushes crumbs from her napkin, considering me.
We’re at a white iron table in the garden behind Tideglass House, where the grass has grown tall around the path and the harbor is visible between the hills. A server from the inn down the road sets fresh cappuccinos on the table before moving on.
“We don’t need anything elaborate,” Livia says. “This is enough. The six of us.”
“I’m not asking for elaborate.” I’d spent half the night awake, and by morning I’d decided the only way to get through the last two days without coming apart was to give my mind a manageable problem. “A cake. Someone to take pictures. Maybe something old, something new, something blue. Whatever the whole list is.”
Rhys gives a quiet snort beside me.
“It could be nice,” Dane says, checking Livia’s face again.
“It’s tomorrow,” she reminds me.
“It would only take a few hours,” Bianca says.
“We can divide the jobs and get it done,” I add. A task with a finish line, plus a little time alone: exactly what I need.
Livia drinks the foam from her cappuccino. “All right. You and Rhys can find the cake.”
I hesitate. “Wouldn’t it be quicker if everyone split up? We could cover more ground.”
“No. We’d make a mess of it and come back with six cakes,” Rhys says. “Which is probably why Mara suggested it.”
I ignore him and turn back to Livia. “If we’re pairing off, you should come with me. I want to make sure you get something you like.”
She tips her head. Something shifts behind her eyes.
We’ve barely had a moment alone since the drive from the airport. For the first time, I wonder whether I’ve been avoiding her because I’m afraid she’ll see what’s happening between Rhys and me—or whether she’s been keeping her distance from me.
She shakes her head. “The cake doesn’t matter to me. The only other thing I care about is the joint bachelor-and-bachelorette party, so I’ll handle that.”
“I want to plan it,” Dane says.
“Obviously. We’ll do it together. Bianca and Jules, could you see if anyone can take photos?”
“We’d love to,” Bianca says.
“But we’re back here in two hours, no matter where you are or how much you’ve managed to do,” Livia says. “That’s the limit.”
Rhys looks at me. I lower my gaze to the table.
Two hours, I tell myself.
What have I done?
• • •
I can’t tell whether Rhys has noticed I’m tense and is matching me, or whether he’s distracted by his own thoughts. Maybe by the message from Irene. Maybe by something else. Either way, as we drive from bakery to bakery, neither of us manages more than a few words.
The afternoon slips away. At the fifth bakery, with half an hour left, the owner tells us they don’t make wedding cakes. She gives us a stern look from behind the counter.
“Wedding families can turn a cake into a legal dispute,” she says. “I don’t need that.”
“Did we say wedding?” Rhys laughs. He glances at me and presses his palm to his forehead as if he’s just caught his own mistake. Then he turns back to her, leaning over the counter with a smile that seems to have been made for getting out of trouble. “I meant birthday. We’ve been planning ours for years, so the word came out by accident. This one’s for a birthday.”
The baker narrows her eyes. “Our birthday cakes say ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Then how about a regular cake?” I ask.
“Those say it too.” She seems determined not to sell us a wedding cake under any circumstances.
“Fine,” Rhys says. “We’ll get red velvet.”
The baker purses her lips. “Who should I make it out to?”
It’s bad enough that she’s insisting on a birthday message when she knows perfectly well why we want the cake.
“Happy birthday, Sasquatch,” Rhys says.
“That’s not a name,” the baker replies.
“It’s an inside joke,” he says, the smile returning to one corner of his mouth.
She doesn’t smile, but she writes it on the cake order anyway.
We’re quiet again once we’re in the car. Halfway up the hill toward the lodge, with wildflowers bright along the roadside and the ocean below us, Rhys pulls onto the gravel shoulder.
“Okay,” he says, looking over at me.
“Okay, what?”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
He lets out a short, frustrated laugh and tips his head back. “Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like everything’s fine when you’re pulling away from me.”
“Pulling away?” The words catch in my throat. Frustration closes around me until the car feels too small. I unbuckle and shove the door open, stumbling into the bright afternoon.
He gets out and comes around the hood. “This isn’t fair.”
I spread my arms. “What isn’t?”
“We were getting along. We were managing to be friends, and now—”
“Friends?” The word comes out as a laugh that doesn’t sound like one. “I don’t want to be your friend, Rhys.”
“I don’t want to be yours either!” he shouts.
I turn toward the hill. He catches my hand and draws me back around. I don’t know how the kiss happens. I’m sure I didn’t stumble into his mouth, and I’m sure he didn’t start it—Rhys wouldn’t. Still, my hands are fisted in his shirt, his palms are against my back, and we’re kissing with the urgency of people who have been given only seconds.
When we break apart, I whisper, “What was that message?”
“What message?” He turns me toward the car, the sun-warmed hood pressing against my back.
“From your mom. I saw the text from Irene.”
“It was nothing.” He lifts me onto the hood.
“Rhys.”
“It’s about work, Mara.” His hands settle on my thighs, drawing my legs around him.
“That doesn’t make sense.” He kisses along my neck, one hand curling beside my ear.
“I can explain it,” he says, “or we can have sex in the car.”
Heat runs through me. My legs tighten against him as he kisses me again. “The car? We’re not even that far from the house.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
I press my hands to his shoulders, though the rest of me keeps leaning toward him. “Tell me.”
He steps back. A car rushes past on the road. He blinks, as if he’s only now come back to himself, and the worry on his face makes me certain I was right to stop him. There’s something I need to know.