Page 33 of Beached Wedding

“Aunt Gilly was such a badass.” Whitney said wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to be like her.”

“Me, too.” Ashley turned to me and said in an awe-filled whisper, “She rode amotorcycle.”

“Which is why Aunt Gilly is not with us today,” Joanna said tartly.

Ashley, Fliss, and Whitney all bounced looks off each other as they heaved simultaneous sighs of resignation.

ASHLEY

After dessert, Fox tried to help bring the dishes in and wash up, but Mom said, “Ashley and I can do it. Whitney, why don’t you and the men take the children to the beach?”

Be more obvious, Mom.

I was mortified, but Fox took his marching orders in stride, disappearing with Whitney who threw a smirk over her shoulder. She’d be grilling him again while I wasn’t there to referee. Divide and conquer. Classic Barnes passive aggressive strategy.

I started rinsing dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher.

“Fliss said you’re staying in the hotel? That Fox is paying for your room?” Mom repurposed a clamshell container that had originally held cookies, filling it with the leftover wings.

“It was paid for on the company card. He feels bad.”

“He feels bad enough to pay for two rooms, one of them the honeymoon suite?”

I didn’t usually lie to her. There was no point. She found out anyway.

I clunked more plates into the dishwasher. “We’re going to share the suite. It’s more economical.”

Highlighting Fox’s thriftiness was worth a shot, but Joanna didn’t embrace it.

“Ashley Margaret.”

Just that. That’s all it took to send a spike of defensiveness straight through me. Whatever I was doing, it was wrong. I had to smarten upright now.

“Move back in here,” Mom insisted.

I almost always buckled to that tone like a basic belt, fast and without fuss.

Tonight, perversely, I dug in my heels. “We shared a house for three months. I’m going to sleep on the pullout.”

“You can sleep on the pullouthere.”

“We’re not having sex. He’s trying to be a supportive friend.”

“If you believe that, I have a bridge in your size.” Joanna slammed the refrigerator door.

“Not all men are trying to get a woman into bed, Mom.”

“Yes, I can see that from the way a man paid for this villa so my daughter would sleep with him in the room next to mine. Explain to me where I went wrong.” Mom’s tone fell from exasperated to frustrated. “Was it the lack of a father figure that makes you girls think you need a man in your life? Because I have tried so hard to show you in every way I can think of that a woman can survive without one.”

“Maybe we want to do more than simply survive, Mom.”

My sullen remark was met with silence. When I glanced at Mom, she was not taking that well, facial muscles stoic, eyes bright with offense.

My heart sank.

“I didn’t mean you didn’t provide well for us, Mom. You gave us a great life.” I sealed my lips, knowing when to put down my shovel and stop digging.

“I did the best I could with what I had and when I leaned on someone, it was my sister.Youhave women you can rely on, yet here you are, allowing a man to pay for your hotel room.”

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