Page 123 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
She and Jesse lived in a condo only a few blocks from the beach. From the outside, it looked like a nondescript gray rectangle with windows. Like a Lego house.
But inside, it was all blond wood and white walls with soaring ceilings, the whole space flooded with sunshine as we passed through the rooms.
The chef’s kitchen had stainless steel appliances and sleek walnut cabinets. French doors opened onto a courtyard—a private patio with Moroccan tiles, a teak table, and lemon trees.Lemon trees.
“Do you just come out here and pluck lemons off your tree?”
“Yep. Do you want to try my lemonade?”
It was so like Quinn to turn lemons into lemonade. She poured us two big glasses of freshly squeezed lemonade, just the right amount of tart and sweet garnished with mint leaves. We carried our drinks through the house for the rest of the tour.
Off the kitchen was a dining area with a marble-topped round table and four gray upholstered chairs. An enormous horseshoe-shaped leather sofa faced a fireplace with poufs scattered around the Moroccan rugs in the living room with double-height ceilings. Potted palms were dotted around the space, and modern art hung on the walls.
“Is that you?” I asked, stopping in front of a blown-up black-and-white photo of a girl surfing a wave that spanned the wall behind the sofa.
Quinn smiled. “Yeah. Jesse took it. He must have taken a million photos that day until he got one where I wasn’t eating sand.”
“You’re such a California girl. I can’t believe you learned how to surf.”
“It’s good for the soul. I’m going to take you this week.”
“I’ve never even been in the ocean.”
“You’re going to love it.” She sounded so confident. I wasn’t convinced.
Photos of Jesse and Quinn hung on the walls going up the stairs. Jesse airborne on a dirt bike. Quinn in a bikini carrying a surfboard down the beach. Quinn and Jesse in a hot air balloon when they got engaged last year.
“Where is Jesse, anyway?” I asked when we’d finished our house tour—the master bedroom with a walk-in closet and spa bathroom. The loft on the mezzanine overlooking the living area that Quinn used as her office. And the second bedroom with an en suite bathroom where I would be staying.
We were standing in front of the railing on the roof deck, looking out over the rooftops and towering palms to the coastline.
“He and Mason and Jude took all the kids to Temecula for the day to do some dirt biking.”
“So, the McCallisters are here already?” I asked cautiously.
She side-eyed me. “Not all of them. Jude and Lila came out yesterday with their three kids. The rest of them will be showing up throughout the week.”
I pulled off my cropped black hoodie and tied it around my waist, my eyes on the view, my mind on Ridge. I took a seat on a deck chair next to Quinn and tipped my face up to the warm, mellow sun.
“What do you want to do while you’re here?” Quinn asked.
It felt like it had been so long since I’d stopped to take a breath and relax. But this week wasn’t about me. It was for Quinn.
“I’m here for you. What do you need me to do for the wedding? I’m supposed to be your maid of honor, and I haven’t done anything to help. God, I suck.”
“You don’t suck. I love you. And this is your vacation. We just have to pick up your dress tomorrow. The only thing I need you to do is relax and hang out with me. That’s your only job.”
I slid my sunglasses down my nose and eyed her. “You’re the most chilled-out bride I’ve ever seen.”
She arched her brows. “Do you spend a lot of time with brides?”
“This is my first wedding, so no.”
She laughed. “I’ve been running around like a lunatic for the past few months. Totally stressed about everything. But then I stopped and took a deep breath, and I just let it go. It’s okay if everything isn’t perfect. It’s okay if the flowers and the napkins don’t match. It’s okay if the DJ sucks and the caterers don’t live up to Declan’s high standards,” she said, rolling her eyes at the mention of her brother Declan, the hot-headed chef.
“It’s okay if my parents are… I don’t even know what they’re doing. I’m not even sure I want to. But the other day, I went over to my dad’s house, and my mom was there. They both looked guilty, like teenagers who’d been caught….” She shuddered.
I laughed. “Do you think they were going at it?”
