Page 25 of Beached Wedding

“I hate being a kid,” she announced, kicking her legs out straight. “It’sso hard. And it’s going to beyearsbefore I can do what I want.”

“Yeah, well, here’s news.” I sat back in my chair. “Being an adult blows too.”

“Looks pretty good from where I’m sitting.”

Looks could be deceiving, but in this moment, as the tropical breeze wafted over us and the crash of the waves was the soundtrack to our moment of zen, she wasn’t wrong.

FOX

When I stepped onto the balcony, I interrupted an argument over whether olives were nectar of the gods or pickled dog turds.

“Long pants? Or can I wear shorts?” I held up the best options from Shane’s bag.

“Shorts are fine,” Ashley said. Her smile faded as she slid her gaze to the towel around my waist, then up to my bare chest and finally to my eyes. She swallowed.

I turned my back on whateverthatwas and changed in the bathroom, throwing on a short-sleeved button shirt, but only closing two buttons. I’d had a cold shower, but I was sweating. Humidity. That’s why. Also stupidity, but mostly humidity.

“Shower’s all yours,” I went out to tell her.

“Thanks. Help yourself.” She nodded at the array of snacks as she rose.

I’d been intending to visit the registration desk, but my stomach gave a sharp clench of hunger. Ashley sent a sly look to Fliss and said, “Have some olives.”

“I’m with you,” I said as Ashley went to shower. “Pickled dog turds.” I scooped a handful of nuts though, and threw them into my mouth as I sank into the chair Ashley had vacated. I ate thecracker she’d left next on top of her coffee. It was smeared with a sweet-hot pepper jelly.

Fliss had been laughing when I first came out. Now her brow was low again, her bottom lip sticking out. Her owly expression deepened when I drained Ashley’s coffee.

“She won’t finish it,” I said. “She hates coffee that’s gone cold.”

“She also hates it when people talk about her behind her back.”

“Like we’re doing right now?”

“I’m not.” She sipped from whatever she was drinking.

Ah, twelve. Such a superior age. The way Ashley had been raised with Fliss was similar to the way I’d had younger siblings who weren’t really siblings. I had a closer relationship with Vicky’s kids in Oz, but that was mostly geography. I saw my foster dad, Gary, and his kids every few years. We talked online often enough that we picked up where we’d left off when I did see them. I loved them all, even when they went through this testy adolescent stage.

Kids usually liked me. I was always up for taking them into a pool or playing cards or throwing a frisbee. Last I’d heard from Ashley, Fliss had been looking forward to meeting me, but she was staring at her phone now, not giving me the time of day.

Was she still mad about finding us asleep in the hammock or, “Did Ash tell you I told Shane not to come?”

“Yes.” She lifted her head to deliver that with eyelids lowered in condemnation. “Tell her I’ve gone back to the villa.” She started to rise.

“Whale spout,” I said as I saw the plume in the distance.

“Really?” She stayed on the loveseat, but sat taller.

“There’s one over there, too.” I pointed.

We watched in silence for a minute. She pointed when she saw one off to the left, then settled back into the sofa and ate a dry cracker, eyes pinned to the water.

“I could have told Shane to come even though he was having doubts,” I admitted. “I was really drunk, which isn’t an excuse. I’m just saying, there wasn’t much going on up here when Shane said he didn’t think he should get on the plane. Mostly I was thinking this was what was best for both of them.”

“So it’s not because you’re...moving in or whatever?” This girl and her side-eye. She called me all sorts of sketchy.

“No.” I bit back a smirk of humor that faded as I thought about the way Ash’s gaze had tracked all over my chest.

“Because she told me you wanted them to sign a prenup. From here it seems like you either did it for yourself or for Shane. I don’t see how this is good for Auntie Ashley.”

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