Page 82 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Eventually, she pulls back, laughing. “Hmm, that’s certainly a start, but I think I’m going to need more convincing. What other evidence do you have?”

My hands flex against her waist. “This may take a while.”

“I’ll allow it.”

And I don’t wait for her to change her mind. I dive in for another kiss and another and another.

Because when something matters as much as this, I’m nothing if not persuasive.

epilogue

APRIL

Five months later

I’m a romance writer who hates weddings. Go figure.

Some might infer it’s because I never had one of my own, despite being a mom. And fine,somemight be a little right. A teensy, teensy amount of right. A minuscule amount.

Really, the biggest reason I hate weddings is because they require me to get dressed up. And for someone who is the poster child for women who wear yoga pants but don’t do yoga, dresses are a veritable form of torture.

But for one of my besties, I will make an exception. I’m sacrificial like that.

The timer on my phone goes off, and I swipe the reminder upward. Sighing, I close my computer and lean back against the headboard of Elisse’s queen-sized bed. No inspiration’s coming anyway, not today, not surrounded by the chaos brewing outside on the Loveland family’s vineyard grounds. After a long day of mimosas, nails, hair, makeup, photos, and more tulle than a person should have to endure in a single lifetime, the sun’s finally setting.

I can hear the strings of the quartet Chloe and Elisse arranged to play at Marilee and Jordan’s second—but first and onlyreal—wedding, and I know the little bit of writing time I had available to me today is over and done. At least until the ceremony is finished and my services as bridesmaid are no longer required.

So much for my looming deadline. So much for the writer’s block keeping the story just on the other side of the clouds. I can see it like a hazy silhouette, and I think it’s laughing at me.

But between parenting, working at the bookstore, and spending the last several Saturdays I’ve had off at bridal showers, baby showers, and dress fittings, the only time available has been the quiet of the evenings. After Dad’s shut off his baseball games, and Mom’s turned in for the night after an evening of quilting, and Scar’s well into dreamland…

And it seems to be at night when my brain likes to retreat to the past. To thewhat-ifs.

Also, it’s hard to write romance when you haven’t been so much as kissed in nine years. So, you know. I feel a bit justified at the paltry word count on my computer.

Not that Cynthia will care…

My phone buzzes again, and this time, I shut off the alarm and stand from the bed, smoothing the front of my strapless, tea-length gown. Moving to Elisse’s floor-length mirror, I examine myself from side to side, making sure my dress isn’t tucked up into my underwear or some other such romcomfaux pas. I give the top of my dress a tug, and it goes…exactly nowhere. With no real boobs or curves or height to speak of, the thing kind of just hangs on me like a drape, but at least Marilee put me in one of the green dresses (along with Kelsey and Jordan’s sister Claire). With my auburn hair and pale skin, the red dresses worn by Chloe, Elisse, and a very pregnant Lucy as part of the bride’s Christmas in July-themed wedding would totally wash me out.

Elisse flounces into her bedroom. Her short hair parted on the side and done in waves would soften her were it not for the look of pure exasperation on her face. “What are you doing back here, April? We needed you five minutes ago for some last-minute photos on the deck.”

“Sheesh, sorry. I was trying to get some writing in.”

“Write on your own time, girl.” Elisse snatches a little box off her white dresser and shoves it at me.

Opening it, I find a pair of Christmas tree earrings inside. I smile. So very Marilee.

“Let’s go, let’s go.” Hands clapping, Elisse leaves just the way she came.

I salute her back with a “Sir, yes, Sir,” then stick the earrings in before snatching up my computer and whisking outside to the home’s back deck overlooking the hills and valleys in the distance. The chatter of guests drifts over from the ceremony site, where white chairs sit on the cleared lawn beside the vines.

All of my friends, including the groomsmen, are clustered around a grinning Jordan and a gorgeous Marilee. Her long brown hair is gathered over one shoulder in curls. A simple tiara adorns her head, simple heels on her feet. The real star of the day is her mother’s wedding dress, altered to fit her to perfection.

She really is the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and after all she’s been through, the most deserving of happiness too.

“Sorry, guys,” I say as I ferret my computer away on an out-of-the-way side table. “Got distracted by the electric glow of my computer screen and the fictional world found within.”

“Hey, no worries.” Marilee smiles softly from where she stands tucked against Jordan, the photographer pushing wisps of hair from her face as she positions the rest of the wedding party around where the happy couple stands on the steps. “Chloe just wanted one more shot of us all on the deck right before sunset.”

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