Page 56 of Love on Deck

“Amelia has a bit of a thing planned after the wedding with lunch at a local restaurant. It’ll be then.”

Jack swore.

“I can help you write it,” I offered.

“No, it’s okay. It probably needs to come from my heart,” he said begrudgingly.

“If you want to practice any ideas on me, I’ll be your audience.”

“What, so you can make sure it passes muster?”

Obviously. “No, of course not. Just trying to help.”

“All finished.” He got up from the bed, his voice trailing away while he moved about the room, rifling through a drawer and probably pulling out pajamas. “Now don’t move and let that soak in.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Lauren?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not pretending.”

The door shut, and he disappeared into the bathroom before I could respond, which was just as well, because I had no idea what to say.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LAUREN

Keeping the groom from setting eyes on the bride before the wedding was next to impossible when you planned a beach elopement in the middle of the Caribbean. Kevin and Amelia decided not to worry about it, but the guys planned to be waiting on the dock for us so there would still be something of a bridal reveal. I intended to film it for posterity’s sake. And also Instagram.

But first, the bride had to stop fretting over her hair.

“Is it beachy enough?” Amelia sat in front of the mirror in her stateroom, looking at Cara through the mirror with wide eyes. “I wanted beach waves, but I’m afraid I just look like a hippie.”

Was that not the look she was going for?

Cara leaned down, serious eyes. “You look boho, babe. Don’t worry.”

I was so out of my depth here. I sat rigidly on the edge of the bed while Cara helped style her hair at the vanity mirror. Sydney was in the bathroom getting ready, but aside from that, we were almost ready to go.

Cara and I wore matching shimmery pink dresses that looked better on me than I expected—and fantastic on her—and I’d let her curl my hair so it would fall over my shoulders and cover most of my bold red sunburn. I had to admit the look wasn’t bad. The dresses were similar to Amelia’s gown—bias cut that reached the floor, with a slit to the knee and thin straps over the shoulders. But our pinks set us aside as the bridesmaids.

I consulted the time on my phone. “The guys are probably down there waiting. Are you ready?”

Amelia drew in a shaky breath. “I can’t believe it’s my wedding day. I’ve been waiting years for this and it’s just... it’s here.”

A warning bell rang in my head. “Are you getting cold feet?”

“Gosh, no!” Amelia looked offended. “Kevin is the one. I have no doubt about that. But these pictures are forever.”

Okay, that was valid. I stood next to Cara, looking down at my sister through the mirror. “You look incredible. No one is going to think 1970s or Woodstock when they see you.”

“Nope,” Cara said. “They’re going to think Boho Chic Insta Influencer.”

Not sure that’s what she was going for either.

Amelia tilted her head back. “That’s so sweet, Cara,” she said with genuine affection.

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