Page 1 of Second Chance Wedding
ChapterOne
It’s not going to disappear, you know,” an amused female voice drawled from behind Analise Taylor’s shoulder. “You can glance away every now and again, and when you look back, it’ll still be there.”
Analise sank her teeth into her lower lip as she smiled but didn’t take her eyes off the spotless glass window with its glittery-gold typography and upscale items so carefully and artfully displayed inside.
Coastal Couture had started off as a dream on her kitchenette table. Not a full-size kitchen table; they’d had no room for that in the tiny two-bedroom apartment she’d shared with Quinley as her roommate in those early years.
No, her dream had started at a tiny bar-style kitchenette island that had been barely big enough for two plates, and yet it had held hundreds—thousands—of ideas and notebooks and lists over the years.All the thingsshe’d wanted out of life.
Including this.
Especially this. This wasn’t her kitchen or a too-tiny space at the end of an alley near the boardwalk where she had to hope people walked by. This…was a dream coming true. “Have I said thank you?”
A huff of a laugh left her best friend’s chest, and Quinley wrapped a toned and tan arm around Analise’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Only about a million times. It was just an introduction, Ana.That,”she said, emphasizing the word by pointing her perfectly painted fingernail at the boutique, “is allyou. I am so proud of you. You know that, right?”
Analise swallowed down the lump forming in her throat and wrapped her arm around Quinley’s impossibly tiny waist. “Is it awful to say I’m proud of me, too?”
Quinley chuckled and took another sip from her glass.
“Not at all. With all that you’ve been through over the years to make this happen? You ran with the bulls, baby. And youwon. That’s something you should be proud of and I’ll kick the behind of anyone who says otherwise.”
The speech being given at the podium ended, and as the applause faded and the gala’s host stepped down, Analise took another sip of the bubbly champagne and turned to survey the glittering lights and beautiful people surrounding her. Chatter and music quickly filled the three-story lobby of the newest Lachlan Hotel and Resort, and her ears buzzed with the praises and gentle pats and handshakes that congratulated her on her tiny part of this venture located at the edge of Carolina Cove, North Carolina.
Over the last year speculation ran hot that the hotel chain had made ahugemistake in choosing the small town over other larger, more likely locations, but now that the resort was officially open for guests, Rhys Lachlan’s welcoming speech had confirmed that the resort was fully booked for the foreseeable future.
And sheltered in the heart of the lobby like a treasure?
Analise eyed her beautiful boutique like a kid in a candy store, simply unable to get enough of how utterly perfect it looked. Elegant, sophisticated, yet not so high-end that people could make a vacation splurge without going home bankrupt. That was another thing she’d promised herself back in the dream-it-and-it’ll-come-true days: that no matter how successful her boutique became, she would also always have a few more affordable items for the dreamers like herself.
Analise let go of Quinley so that she could wrap her arm around her stomach, trying to hold in the butterflies and worries and all the overwhelming emotions that came with the success.
Quinley was right though. She’d spent the last fifteenyearssaving and scrimping and sacrificing so that she could have this moment right here. Every decision in her past had meant learning something new in order to grow.
Now sheowneda boutique in a thirty-million-dollar hotel, and that was no small thing. But it also didn’t guarantee her boutique would be a success, and once again, it was time to take a breath—and do whatever it took to make it a success and level up. This was a trial run, so to speak. And she had a long way to go to prove herself before she could turn this boutique into the first of many.
Rhys Lachlan was a businessman first and foremost, and while Ana had her numbers memorized and knew her projected growth, she banked on potential. Coastal Couture couldbethe start of something great. But only time and more hard work would tell.
“Okay, seriously, stop. I can hear the gears cranking in that head of yours,” Quinley said. “Take the night off and just enjoy the moment. Drink up. You did it, and it’sperfect.”
Ana looked up at her taller friend and nodded. “It is, isn’t it?”
Smiling, Quinley clinked her glass against Ana’s.
“You’ve come a long way, baby.”
Boy had she ever. The red-carpet gala was a who’s who event, and she’d be lying through her teeth if she said she wasn’t more than a little intimidated, even though in the past five years or so she’d undoubtedly dressed or accessorized a lot of the women in attendance.
Carolina Cove’s local officials rubbed shoulders with Wilmington’s elite, business owners and the area’s movers and shakers. They sipped drinks and networked, promising to refer associates and family members.
Large enough to host conferences in addition to providing all the amenities needed for family vacations, the resort would have a steady stream of foot traffic moving by her storefront. And since the soft opening a month ago, she’d made every sales goal and upped them. Combined with the online sales network she’d built over the last several years, thanks entirely to Quinley’s marketing and advertising expertise, it was a testament to what a college dropout and single mom could do when motivated by lack and fueled by caffeine.
Heat scorched her eyes with pinpricks, and Analise blinked rapidly to make sure her exhausted tears didn’t form or fall. Despite the nonstop preparation to get the boutique opening night ready, she’d spent her share of time in the hotel’s spa earlier alongside Quinley, getting makeup and hair perfected for the gala evening. She didn’t want anything to ruin it.
And she wouldn’t allow the thoughts of who wasn’t in attendance to see her success overshadow the fact that she had risen from the ashes despite them all.
“Uh-oh. Here comes Mr. Surly,” Quinley said. “Please don’t let whatever your grumpy teenager says take the bubbles from your champagne. Do you hear me?”
