Page 2 of Groomsman to Groom

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I mean, Skye and I just met at this wedding, too. Actually, she accused me of sabotaging it, but when she was wrong, she felt guilty, and we became fast and furious BFFs. “That’s wild.”

“Itiswild, and it means my manifestation powers will be stronger with him since he’s basically family.” She bats her hand. “Speaking of, how’s your sister doing? With her Braxton Hicks?”

“Better. I guess it’s normal for seven-and-a-half months along,” I say, grateful for the subject change. “Paisley and her husband picked a name—Oliver.”

“A beautiful name for what I’m sure will be a beautiful child.” Skye’s voice softens. “It’ll be a joy for your family, a new soul since your mother journeyed to the afterlife.”

Wow, I really have told Skye everything. I think some of this was when I was super buzzed because I can’t remember it all, but her reminder hits like a sucker punch. Two months since Mom died, and I still reach for my phone to call her at least twice a day.

“I’m okay,” I lie, then correct myself because Skye has this irritating ability to see through BS. “Actually, it’s weird. Bittersweet—I’m thrilled for my sister, but Mom was such an amazing grandmother to my niece, and she would’ve adored a grandson, you know?”

Skye reaches over and squeezes my hand. “She’ll still be there for him, just in a different form. A guardian angel.”

I’m about to tell her how much I like that idea when Skye suddenly straightens, her eyes focused on something below us. “Well, speaking of, she must be watching over you now.”

I follow her gaze to see a man walking along the shoreline, camera slung around his neck. Even from this distance, I’drecognize that sandy blond hair and thin, fit frame anywhere. “Wow, he’s still here too.” I take a gulp of wine.

“The universe is literally delivering him to your doorstep, Brielle. This is a sign.”

“It’s a coincidence. He’s a photographer. Photographers like beaches. It’s a job requirement.”

Skye turns to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Go talk to him.”

“What? Absolutely not.”

“Why? Give me one good reason.”

“I can give you several. One, I’m leaving tomorrow. Two, long-distance relationships are doomed. Three, my career is finally taking off, and I don’t have time for—”

“Excuses, excuses.” Skye stands and disappears back into the hotel room. I hear drawers opening and closing before she returns with something small and black in her hands. “Put this on.”

She tosses the item at me. It’s a two minuscule scraps of material that I think is supposed to be a bikini.

“You want me to go down there inthis? Why bother wearing anything?”

“Yeah, it was a honeymoon gift for the bride, but I forgot to give it to her. Anyway, you’re a striking woman with a body many would kill for. Show it off.” She refills her wine glass. “Besides, you need to have a proper beach experience before leaving paradise.”

“I’ve been experiencing the beach all week.”

“Not the experience I’m talking about.” She waggles her brows.

I stare at the bikini in my hands. “Tempting, but this is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is watching two people with obvious chemistry orbit each other without colliding.” She leans back,sighing. “Go say, ‘hi’ to the man, Brielle. It’s just talking. If it turns into a sunset stroll and a good time, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“True. But if I end up liking him, it could never work,” I say, but my resolve is waning.

“Maybe not. Probably not, in fact. But you’ll never know unless you try.” She winks. “What happens in St. Sebastian stays in St. Sebastian.”

Idohave a night free—and it could be fun while it lasts.

Three minutes later, I’m walking along the beach in the loaner bikini, which fits because it barely exists, but I also have on Skye’s cover-up that I forced her to lend me. My heart’s pounding so hard I bet Hayes will hear it before he sees me.

I’ve convinced myself this is a terrible idea approximately seventeen times since leaving Skye’s room, but something keeps pulling me forward. Maybe curiosity. Or maybe it’s because at the rehearsal dinner, I felt a major vibe with him that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Hayes is crouched near the waterline, adjusting his camera settings as he photographs the waves. I take a deep breath and blurt, “Hey, fancy meeting you here.”

He glances up and a smile breaks across his face—the kind that starts in the eyes before reaching the mouth—and my stomach does a flip.

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