The next morning, I watched the sun come up, its light catching on waves so tiny I could barely see them. My butt felt a little better today, but it had kept me up most of the night. Carson had tried to stay up, listen to me complain, and put more of the cream on the sting. Surprisingly, he only quoted Silence of the Lambs once. “It puts the lotion in the basket.” Thankfully my glare had conveyed the threat perfectly: “Say it again and I’ll be off this island and back in the states before they find your body.”

He got up when someone from the hotel came out to our bungalow with a breakfast feast. Seriously, the spread was ridiculous—twenty different kinds of pastries, two full carafes of juice, a small mountain of weird kinds of fruit, soft-boiled eggs in cute little shot glass-looking things, and of course, coffee. The next time I saw the man, I promised myself to make sure all the leftovers were given away. If not, I’d have to sit there—figuratively speaking because ouch—all day and eat all of it. Not because I wanted to, but because my parents would disown me if I ever wasted this much food while there were starving people in the world.

This island was so beautiful, I could barely sit still. Granted, part of that might have been because it took me five minutes to sit down and every move after that caused me to silently scream, grab whatever part of Carson was closest, and squeeze until his pain was somewhat comparable to mine. It wasn’t fair he could sit down like a normal person.

Not sure why I was surprised. Of course, I’d get stung by a jellyfish on my first trip outside the country. My first big vacation with Carson and I couldn’t sit down without wincing. Yep, that was how my life worked. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on my butt or my disappointment. Now was the time to celebrate this moment with Hayden and Andi.

After breakfast, Carson and I got dressed in regular clothes but brought our clothes for the wedding with us. The plan was for the women to meet in Andi’s room to help each other and have some girl time. The men—Hayden, Carson, and Rob—would be in another room waiting for us to get ready. Knowing how impatient Carson was, I’d put money on the mini bar and possibly the hotel bar being empty by the time the wedding started.

I didn’t expect to see Renee and Anna until the afternoon. Carson told me they planned to spend the day getting rubbed down, squeezed, lifted, injected, waxed, polished, peeled, and slathered with enough toxins to guarantee they’d look pre-pubescent again.

The only way Eric and Hillary could afford the trip was by not paying for it at all. Instead, Carson had hired them to take pictures of the wedding as part of his gift to Hayden and Andi. He’d paid for their plane tickets and a hotel room that cost more than Eric had made in his entire photographic career. He’d even let Eric take credit for it, as reparations for the unfortunate three-hour mistake Carson had made with Hillary long before we’d met.

Before Carson and I split up to report to our designated gender-zones, he kissed me. When he instinctually slid his hand from my lower back down to my butt where the sting was, he was lucky I only shoved him backwards. I could’ve grabbed whatever part of him was closest and squeezed. And the part I would’ve grabbed happened to be his favorite.

---

The beach, the hotel, and the bungalows were all right out of a dream. Thankfully the bridal suite was bigger than most apartments in San Francisco. There was plenty of room for our little party.

Andi—the nervous bride-to-be; Emilia—Andi's happily married, boss-slash-matron-of-honor; Sara—the distracted-and-possibly-drunk bridesmaid; and Clare—the completely panicked wedding planner-slash-ex-wife of the groom-to-be. Oh, and me, the unmarried, confused chick who couldn’t even drink her cares away because she was taking pain medication for her sore ass.

"I'm going to leave you in the…capable hands of your wedding party." Clare smiled at me, but I’d heard the pause in her comment, as well as the panicked look on her face. Yeah, capable. Sure. "I just want to double-check—"

"Quadruple-check," someone muttered.

"—with Eric to make sure he's set up in the right spot."

"Say hi to Hillary for me," I said as Clare rushed toward the door. I hadn't seen Eric or Hillary since they’d arrived this morning. Clare had made my bestie her unofficial assistant whenever Hillary wasn't assisting her photographer boyfriend. Or fiancé, I should call him now. Geez, it was hard to keep up.

"You look beautiful, Andi," Clare yelled as the door shut.

"She's right," Emilia said. "You do. And to think you'd planned to hide this gorgeousness behind a computer screen for the rest of your days."

"And I would've gotten away with it, too," Andi said, smiling. "If it hadn't been for you meddling kids."

Yep, everything was perfect, including the bride. Andi looked stunning, her hair swept up in the twist I’d already spent a good half hour fighting for. I was shocked she still had hair, I was yanking on it so hard. The other two women had given up, probably because they knew exactly what that hair was and wasn’t capable of—a lesson I’d learned after only a few minutes. But by then, I had something to prove. Plus, Andi and I were about to be family…kind of. Almost? Well, she was about to become a member of a family I hoped to someday be a part of, even if that meant I’d have to occasionally spend time with the other members of the family, Anna and Renee.

Thankfully they weren't here with us right now, so I could enjoy my almost-family without any drama. Other than the drama of Andi’s hair.

“Now I understand why you always wear it in a ponytail,” I said as I jammed a few more bobby pins in it.

“Back off, Laney!” Andi snapped. When she saw me flinch, she gasped and clenched her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. That totally came out wrong. What I meant was, don’t touch it or all your hard work will explode, and we’ll have to start over.”

“It’s fine,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“You’re the bride, Andi,” Emilia said. “You don’t have to apologize. There are only two times in a woman’s life when she can say and do whatever the hell she wants to: on her wedding day and when she’s in labor, so she should take advantage of them.”

“What about when she’s PMSing or going through menopause?” I asked.

Emilia considered it. “Good point. Okay, there is one day, one or two hopefully-not-too-long-or-you’re-getting-the-epidural days, three to five days per month from approximately twelve to fifty-five, and however long it takes to go through”—she used air quotes—“the change.”

“And after a bad breakup,” Sara added helpfully.

“Crap! How could I have forgotten that one? Is that all of them?” Emilia waited while we all tried to think of others. “I’m going to call it. So, if you’re ever bitchy when none of those exceptions are occurring, then face it—you’re just a bitch.”

“Thanks for clearing that up, Em. Appreciate it.” A few tendrils of curls framed Andi’s face in an it-looks-accidental-but-was-hard-earned twist. But what made her stunning was the nervous and excited flush on her cheeks and the honest joy in her smile.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said, adjusting the shoulder strap of my bridesmaid dress. From the second I’d met Andi, I loved her. It was impossible not to. Knowing how happy she made Hayden made it even easier.

Emilia, her matron-of-honor and another woman I had instantly adored, handed me the glass of Champagne I’d put down on the vanity. Sara downed the rest of hers, grimaced, and reached for the bottle.

“Sara,” Emilia snapped. “A little control would be nice. We’re not here to get drunk.”

“I wasn’t…”

I didn’t know Sara very well, partially because we hadn’t spent that much time together, and partially because she seemed to be completely uninterested in letting anyone get to know her. All I knew was she had great hair, looked like a tiny human Barbie doll, worked with Andi at Emilia’s virtual assistant company, and her two friends kept a close eye on her. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust her, more like they knew if they broke eye contact for even a second, she’d get into trouble.

“Seriously,” Emilia continued, “Can you please behave for one day? I’d like to put off the intervention until after the ceremony, at least.”

“I wasn’t—” Sara bit her lip, her eyes glossy and hurt-looking. “I just noticed it wasn’t very cold. The ice is melted… I was going to go get more, so Andi wouldn’t have to drink warm Champagne on her wedding day.” She put the bottle down on the dresser and picked up the bucket, tilting it so we could see the water in it. “I wasn’t going to drink the whole bottle, Emilia.”

Emilia glanced at Andi and sighed. “Sorry.” I didn’t know if she was apologizing for what she’d said or that she was being a little bitchy on a day she wasn’t allowed to be.

“It is a little warm,” Andi said after taking a small sip. “It’d be great if you could get some ice, Sara. Thanks.”

Trying to stay out of the drama, I sat down on the bed as Sara passed by me silently. No smile, no expression, not even anger. One foot in front of the other, eyes staring straight ahead. It was as if as soon as she’d turned away from Emilia, all the fight in her died. Unfortunately, if I reached out and wrapped my arms around the poor girl like I wanted to, I was fairly sure things would only get more awkward.