Page 8 of Beached Wedding

“Why— Oh!” She squeaked as I dragged my wet briefs off my hips and wrung them out. “Get us arrested for public nudity, then,” she said to the three palm trees up on the lawn. “This day couldn’t possibly get worse.”

“You’d think,” I muttered, pulling on Shane’s boardies. “Got any sunscreen?”

She pivoted and gave me an are-you-kidding-me eye roll before she dug through her bag. I often teased her about her shoulder bag because it was like one of those bottomless, cartoon-magic bags that had whatever was needed in the moment. Lip balm, wet wipes, an elastic band. One time, I locked myself out of the shop and she’d handed me a key, asking, “Does this one work?”

Ever since then, I would say something like,I cracked my board, Ash. Got a spare in your bag?

Have a look, she would say as she offered it.I think it’s under the parachute.

As she handed me the sunscreen, she said, “I have a lady razor in here if you want to clean up that bikini line?”

“I said no peeking.”

She snickered and it made me feel unreasonably good to make her smile.

I didn’t smile back, though. Emotion hit me so hard, I had to take a step to keep my balance. I blamed the hangover and the rush of blood sugar after twelve hours of fasting, but my throat tightened with a weird emotion. My conscience was slamming up against my genuine affection for her and it was leaving a mark.

I smeared the cream all over my arms and chest, admitting, “I took Shane for lunch the day before we were supposed to fly out. I wanted to know if he’d talked to you about signing the pre-nup I had drawn up.”

Her plastic cup landed on the sand and the top popped off. Coffee and the last of the whipped cream spattered the tops of my feet. She blinked at me, her big brown eyes wounded and brimming with stunned betrayal.

Guess not.

My heart grew heavier yet shriveled at the same time.

“It’s not about not trusting you,” I said.

“’course not.”

“Please see it from my point of view. Shane and I are partners. Everything I have is in the business and the house. I’m entitled to protect my half.”

She folded her arms and turned to stare out at the water. “What did Shane say?”

“That he hadn’t sent it to you yet.” I finished my legs and used my wet boxers to wipe the coffee off my feet before I smoothed sunscreen over the tops of them.

“So you, what? Got him drunk to make him sign?”

“No.” I straightened, insulted, and decided to find a shirt rather than ask her to do my back. “We read through the draft, made a few notes, then dropped it at the lawyer’s office. Thereceptionist promised to email the final copy to him so you two could e-sign it before the wedding. Then we went back to the pub.”

We should have gone back to work. Gone surfing. Gone home to pack. Anywhere but the pub.

Getting that document finalized had felt momentous for both of us, though. The marriage was real. Everything would change. We’d both known it.

“Shane and I did a couple of shots. He texted the guys to join us. It turned into a crawl before we took the party back to the house and kept it going on the beach. Shane and I didn’t talk about the prenup again until we were in the taxi.” I dropped the sunscreen on my pile of clothes and rubbed the residue from my palms into my face and the back of my neck. I was avoiding her eyes. “You’re my friend, Ashley. This isn’t anything against you.”

She was looking at me like I’d tricked her into betting all her money on a horse that had to be shot.

“Shane cares about you. He does. But in the taxi, he said he kept thinking that I was right to ask him sign something, but that you two shouldn’t need a prenup. Not if you plan to stay married? I said, ‘Do you?’”

She folded protective arms across her middle.

I had felt exactly this full of dread at the potent silence in the back of the car. My gut filled with a fresh bag of cement.

“What did he say?” she prompted shakily.

“Nothing,” I said flatly. “I asked him if he was having second thoughts. He said he was.”

A tiny noise, the kind of whimper small creatures made when they were trapped and suffering and only wanted to die, squeaked in her throat.

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