The Love Ship (Love #2)

Chapter 1 Making the Call

MAKING THE CALL

ASHLEY

“Of course Beckett’s coming on the cruise,” I say, smiling wide, my voice light. Breezy. “We’re both so excited to watch you get married.”

Across the table, a neat stack of papers sits where mail usually accumulates, demanding my attention. Later, I promise with a scowl.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” My sister’s voice bubbles through the phone, a little starry-eyed at this point.

“We missed your man at the engagement party, and I know he’s been really busy lately, but I just want…

I want for you and Bex to have some private time together.

Get him on the ship and you two can finally get some romantic time. ”

“We’ll still have the boys.” I point out the fact that my twin seven-year-olds will be there. “And besides, this is your wedding.”

“I know that. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be wined and dined as well. Besides, you know Mom and Babs will want to help out.”

She isn’t wrong. “Fine, fine, just don’t worry about me and Beckett so much. We are all going to have a great time. You’ve got enough to worry about with your show, and packing—and, oh, can’t forget his mom. How’s that going, by the way?”

“We’re doing good. She hasn’t come down here much. She and Courtney have been busy with some new investment thing, so she hasn’t had time to be a problem.”

“Like that’s any better,” I scoff. “I know they’ve been working together since way before you and Noah got together, but still. It’s her son’s ex-wife. It’s weird. Do I need to have a talk with your future mother-in-law about loyalty? Because I will.”

“Do not. Oh, my God, Ash—”

“Just say the word. On another note, did you get everything together to make this thing legal?” Getting married in Mexico is a lot more complicated than I’d imagined, so Luna’s been working on making arrangements for blood tests, translated birth certificates, and a slew of other insane requirements.

“Yep. We’re all good.” She lets out a little squealing sound. “Can you believe I’m getting married in less than two weeks?”

I nod. And then exhale. “Nine days.”

“And you’ve helped me so much.” She laughs, but then her voice turns more genuine. “Let me worry about my future mother-in-law, okay? You just focus on having your little family ready to sail.”

My family… Got it. “If you say so, Loony.”

“And you’re sure everything’s okay?”

“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” But I don’t give her a chance to answer. “I mean, it’s been a little busy with baseball and swimming lessons for the boys and the usual last month of school stuff, but we’re all doing great over here. Did I tell you Max and Blakey both made the dean’s list?”

“Aren’t they in like second grade? Is that even a thing at that age?” Luna asked.

“At St. Prescott Academy? You bet.”

I’m moving around the kitchen now, gathering the notes I’d taken for the latest job I’d accepted—reworking Mrs. Ainsley Prescott’s walk-in closet.

Because room for 200 pairs of shoes wasn’t enough.

“I think there’s a science lab for little sailors on the ship. The boys are gonna love it.” Luna sighs. “And there’ll be romantic stuff for the adults.” Back to the wedding again.

Not that I blame her, I was probably ten times as bad before Beckett and my wedding.

“I can’t wait.” I make a little swoony sound.

Luna goes quiet, though. There’s a hesitation on the line that makes me nervous.

“You aren’t having second thoughts?” I ask.

“Only good ones. Like, how lucky I am. I’m gonna be bruised if I keep pinching myself.”

“Then stop. You deserve to be happy.” She deserves all of it.

“So do you.”

“And I am.” I force the corners of my mouth up. “How lucky are we?”

“So, so lucky,” Luna says. “You and Bex can take long strolls on the deck in the moonlight, dance till dawn, all the things you haven’t been able to do lately.”

Because Beckett’s been working all the time. Supposedly.

“I’m so excited.” I glance over at the twins’ finger paintings on the fridge—two stick-figure dads with matching messy hair under a glittery sun.

Snapping my head back, I open up my laptop, closing out my client schedule and bringing up the spreadsheet I made for the wedding. “Decorations are here and packed. We’ve received all the RSVPs. And I talked with Liza Gardner, the event coordinator on the ship, yesterday.”

“Thank you. Ash. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“We’ve got this, you and me.”

“You’ve got this. And I know you love it.”

“I do.” I glance at the clock. “But for now, I’m gonna have to let you go, okay?” Sorted & Styled needs new reels—three before the cruise—and I still have to finalize the color palette for the Parkers’ pantry.

My little organizer business is the thing I built after bedtime and between loads of laundry—proof that I’m more than Max and Blakey’s mom, more than Mrs. Beckett Carrington of Walpole, Massachusetts, land of white fences and neighbors who trim their boxwoods to match.

Before I can say a proper goodbye, though, Luna jumps in. “One more thing, Ash.”

I hum questioningly to let her know I’m still there.

“I was just thinking—I wasn’t gonna wear one, but do you still have your veil? It can be my something borrowed.”

“My veil was longer than my train,” I say. I picture my own wedding dress—silk, beaded, an elaborate thing I wore when I was twenty-two. In our local church, in front of nearly three hundred guests.

God, eleven years ago.

Luna’s dress, by contrast, is a simple shift of soft white linen, sleeveless, perfect for a winery ceremony in Ensenada. Perfect for Luna. The thought of pulling my veil out of the attic makes me nauseous.

“Oh.” Luna sounds small for a second, disappointed, and I hate it.

I imagine Luna padding around her amazing kitchen, curls escaping from one of her hair clips, eyes bright with a stupid kind of joy I once took for granted.

“I can shorten it,” I add quickly. “I’ll make it suit your style. Of course you can wear my veil. I’d be honored.” I mentally set aside time to go up to the attic, after the boys go to bed and before my nightly shower.

“But that’ll be even more work for you to do. Are you sure you still have time to plan the bachelorette party? I could ask Tay—”

“No,” I cut in instantly. “I’ve got it covered. Maid of honor duties are nonnegotiable.”

Luna laughs, and for a sliver of a moment, I feel light enough to match it.

“I really need to go, though…”

“Okay,” she says, her voice softening. “You don’t think it’s weird, do you? That I asked Bex to walk me down the aisle? I just… with dad gone...”

Dad, right. Because he’s not gonna be there. Four years, and somehow the ache of his passing still sits just under my ribs.

“Not weird,” I manage. “Like, not at all. Beckett is—” I glance at the empty chair across from me. “He’s honored, and he’s happy to do it.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a shuddering breath before Luna comes back on, bright and cheerful again.

“I know you need to go, and I’m gushing. I’m just… After, well… I didn’t think this was in the cards for me.”

“But it is. Everything is gonna be perfect. And… I can’t wait.”

“I can’t either. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

After hanging up, I sit very still in the quiet. The house is empty today, the boys off on a playdate with one of their friends. It feels—too still, almost dreamlike.

I close my laptop gently enough that it doesn’t make a sound. Then I bury my face in my hands.

But there isn’t time to wallow, so I wipe my eyes, grab my phone, and thumb the screen, pulling up his number.

“Ash? Is everything okay? The boys?”

For a second, the concern in his voice takes me back. To when we were us. To before… Then the sane, furious part of me—wife, mother, business owner—takes over.

“The boys are fine,” I say into the phone. “But everything else? No. Not even a little.”

I shove my hair out of my face even though he can’t see me.

“I’m calling because Luna is over the moon about getting married, and she thinks you and I are fine.”

“What?”

“So here’s what’s going to happen.”

I swallow hard.

“You’re coming to this wedding.”

“Ash, I—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. “This isn’t about us anymore. It’s about her. So you will show up for the wedding… or you’ll prove every awful thing I’ve been trying not to believe about you.”

“I—”

“Don’t.” My voice cracks sharp enough to cut. “If I have to drag you onto that ship myself, Beckett, I will.”