Chapter Nine
Like it or not, Georgie had to admit Marcy looked stunning. She was elegant in a classic ivory sheath that brought to mind Audrey Hepburn. The silk and lace gown hugged her slim body and made her look model thin. She couldn’t wait to hear how Aunt Jeannie would compare her stronger, fuller physique to her svelte daughter’s. Bring it. Maybe Georgie could be double-fisting doughnuts while she bore the brunt of her insults.
Marcy practically glided down the aisle, her besotted father fighting back tears, her mother beaming with the glow of victory.
But enough about her. Marcy looked overjoyed, her broad smile betraying any silly familial hostilities that might create a subtext to her big day. Her fiancé—James something or other—had broken out into a huge grin as soon as he saw his bride. The two of them clasped hands, and he gave her an adorable kiss even before the vows were exchanged. Georgie was happy for them. She had to remember not to conflate Marcy with her mom because Aunt Jeannie’s behavior certainly wasn’t her fault.
The sun was setting as they finished exchanging their vows. The late-day sun reflected off the water, and soon the pink glow warmed the view considerably. It’s what Georgie loved so much about living at the ocean. You could have a perfectly shitty day and take one look at that sunset over the cresting waves and all would be good with the world.
Nevertheless, she needed a drink. Stat. It was stressful being the ugly-duckling relative at your cousin’s wedding. Even if you weren’t truly an ugly duckling, and it was only that Cinderella’s stepmom kept telling you that you were. Either way, it was time for a cocktail, and fast.
The friends made their way to the bar, but Noah intercepted them and offered to get them drinks. Georgie practically pleaded for a Tito’s on the rocks. She tempered it with a splash of sparkling water and lime, even though ideally, in her heart of hearts, she wanted two fat fingers of vodka, straight up, to throw down her gullet and soften the blow of this event.
“So, you gonna fill me in on what’s up with Noah? Or will I have to keep guessing?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I can’t get into it here. But Noah is a ghost from my past who insists on haunting me. And it’s plucking my last nerve.”
“Sure it’s not tweaking your ovaries a little bit?” Georgie said with a wink. “I caught you stealing glances at him during the wedding. Maybe you two have some unfinished business you still need to resolve?”
“I honestly don’t need that drama in my life. Everything is finally good for me, and I don’t need a blast from the past to drop a load of cement on me right now.”
Georgie shrugged. “Fair enough. In that case, here’s to letting go of the losers, then.” They clinked glasses and laughed as they threw back their drinks perhaps faster than they should have.
Noah approached again. “Look who I found all alone and needing company,” he said, his hand on a man’s shoulder. “Harper, I think you might recall meeting Spencer at the bar recently, right?”
Harper reached out to shake his hand. “Great to see you again. And this is my date for this evening, Georgie Childress.”
Georgie looked up only to realize it was him! The surfboard dude. She was sure of it. Only tonight, he had his longish sandy-blond hair pulled back in a bun. Which normally wasn’t her thing, but damn, it looked hot. Instead of that wet suit, he wore a surprisingly conservative-looking charcoal pinstripe suit, with a crisp medium-blue shirt and coordinating gray flannel tie. She felt that tingle in her belly that had become so unfamiliar to her, but now she recognized it as what it was: lust. Oh God. She was hot for the guy whose surfboard she destroyed.
Spencer, not even looking up, reached for Georgie’s hand and pulled it toward his mouth. “Enchanté,” he said, as he kissed the top of her hand.
“Uhhh, yeah,” Georgie said squinting her eyes. “You seriously don’t remember me?”
He lifted a brow, then winced as he started to snap his fingers. “Oh, man. You.” He pointed his finger at her. “You’re the surfboard-killer chick.”
Harper looked from her friend to Spencer and back again. “Should I ask?”
Georgie shook her head. “Trust me, it’s so not worth knowing.”
She had been too embarrassed about her accident to share it with anyone other than Margie, who she knew wouldn’t judge her.
Harper shrugged. “Okey dokey, then.” She mouthed to her friend, You’d better fill me in on that later.
The wedding director announced they were about to present the wedding party, which meant they all had to take their seats immediately. Hopefully that meant she could avoid the surfer dude, while at some point getting his contact information so that she could maybe anonymously send him his quilt or something. Though damn, she’d grown to love that quilt. Shame she had to give it up. But she did, no two ways about it.
She was about to walk to the farthest table in the room when Noah led them to one too close to the wedding party than she’d have preferred, and then he proceeded to seat surfer dude—Spencer, was it?—smack-dab to her left. Which meant it was going to be an awkward mealtime, for sure.