Page 97 of Hot Shot

But I’m still leaving. So how can I expect anything else from him?

I block out the hurt, preferring numb, focusing on getting things done for my trip and for the wedding.

Beck’s parents arrive while the girls are having our pedicures on Friday. Beck picks them up at the airport and drives them to the Hotel del Coronado where the wedding is taking place and where he’s reserved a room for them. With my dad’s connections and a lucky cancellation, they were able to book the beautiful hotel for the wedding at short notice. Because it’s a small, simple ceremony, there’s no need for a rehearsal, so Hayden and Beck are having a quiet dinner tonight with just family.

Wearing flip-flops so as not to ruin my pink toenail polish, I hug Hayden outside the salon. “Have fun tonight.”

Hayden rolls her eyes. “It’s Beck’s parents. I think I might puke.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“They terrify me.”

“They’ll love you.”

Hayden pastes on a brave grin. “Okay! Sure.”

“Seriously. Just be yourself. Honestly, you love Beck. That has to mean something to his parents.”

Hayden bites her lip and nods. “I do love him. I can do this.”

“Of course you can. Just don’t go on about messenger RNA therapeutics or morpholinos, or whatever.”

Hayden laughs. “Got it. Okay. See you tomorrow. You’re coming to the suite at the hotel at one o’clock, right?”

“Right. And I’m bringing champagne.”

“See you then!”

I climb into my car. My numbness is giving way to fluttery nerves in my belly as seeing Marco again grows nearer.

I miss him already and I haven’t even left yet.

Hayden and I stand on the edge of the patio at the Hotel del Coronado. The evening sun is low over the ocean, casting a warm light onto the beach. Glowing candles and pink roses nestled in the sand create the aisle we’ll walk down toward the arbor draped in white tulle and more pink roses. Buddy Holly starts singing “Everyday,” which is my signal to walk down the aisle ahead of my best friend. “Ready?” I whisper.

Hayden nods, looking so beautiful in her white dress. She has a spray of pink roses pinned to the side of her head with a small drape of sheer tulle attached to it and she clutches her bouquet of flowers in shades of blush, rose, and fuchsia, with a few periwinkles tucked among them. “I’m ready.” She smiles.

Clasping my smaller bouquet of similar flowers, I let out a sigh of happiness, turn, and start down the aisle. The sand is cool on my bare feet, my silver pumps sitting neatly on the patio until later. The guests sit in white chairs arranged in rows on the pale sand. The ocean breeze carries the scent of sea and sunshine, and billows the tulle, and I can’t help but smile at the upbeat rhythm of the music.

My eyes go straight to Marco, standing up at the front with Beck, Cade, and the officiant.

Dear Lord he looks good. He’s wearing his dress blues, his hair neat beneath his white hat, his jaw clean shaven. His dark eyes meet mine from the other end of the aisle and the rest of the world fades away.

I swallow, my steps faltering. What would it be like if I were walking down this aisle toward Marco to become his? Forever and ever.

That’s crazy thinking.

And yet my heart aches with longing, wanting to reach out to him, to hold on to him and never let him go. My throat thickens and I blink rapidly to dispel the tears that threaten. Crying at a wedding is okay because everyone will think they’re tears of happiness. I don’t want to cry tears of sadness today because this is a happy day, the happiest of days for Hayden and Beck as they join their lives.

I make it to the arbor and detach my gaze from Marco’s, stepping to the side and turning to watch Hayden.

The music changes to “I Choose You” by Sara Bareilles, and the words of the song are so fitting. Hayden glows as she begins her stroll down the sandy aisle. I glance at Beck to see his reaction, and the wonder and devotion on his face makes my heart tilt.That. That is . . . everything.

Hayden’s eyes are mostly for Beck, but she does smile at Cade and Marco as she arrives at Beck’s side. She meets my eyes as she hands over the bouquet and turns to face her future husband.

As I listen to the ceremony and vows, I glance around to take in friends and family watching—Beck’s parents sitting in the front row along with Marco’s former lieutenant commander and his wife, and on the other side of the aisle, Hayden’s aunt and uncle, cousins, and their wives and kids.

“Hayden and Beck, you have expressed your love to one another with the vows you have just made. With these promises in mind, I pronounce you husband and wife. You have kissed many times, but today is your first kiss . . . not as partners or lovers or best friends, but as husband and wife. Your kiss is another promise to each other.” The officiant smiles. “You may kiss your bride.”

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