Chapter 16
ABI
The mood of a moment ago evaporates in an instant as Lorenzo’s wide eyes meet my even wider ones. I jump up, flipping the skirt of my dress down and digging around on the floor for my bikini top. I pull it around my chest, but my fingers are clumsy and I can’t get the tie done.
“Help me,” I beg.
Lorenzo nods, leaving his own shirt unbuttoned to focus on my swimsuit top. “Good,” he says, tying it easily. “There’s your bottoms too.” He points to the far side of the bed.
How did they get there? Last time I had a conscious thought, Lorenzo had pushed them to my ankles. After that . . . no idea.
I lunge across the bed to grab them and yank them up my legs, wildly kicking my feet in the air to help get the suit situated.
“Come on,” Lorenzo says sharply as he grabs my hand and leads me back out to the top deck.
The party never stopped here. The whole crowd is still happily dancing, the dark night broken by flashing rainbow disco lights and the booming music.
“Maybe we’re okay?” I say hopefully. Lorenzo doesn’t let me pretend, not even for a second, giving me a raised brow look.
“Look, there’s Janey.” He points across the floor to where Janey is dancing with her new friends. “Let’s see if they made an announcement that we missed.”
I take the lead this time, dragging Lorenzo across the floor behind me. I must look like a woman on a mission because people are hopping out of my way left and right. “Janey!” I yell over the music, waving wildly. She smiles and waves back, oblivious.
Finally, I make it to her side and shout in her ear, “Why are we stopped?”
“Huh?” I can’t hear her answer, but her brows knit together as she looks at me in confusion.
Before she catches a damn clue, the speaker crackles.
“Hey there, folks! You might’ve noticed that we’ve stopped for a minute.
This B-Yacht-ch is a bit temperamental sometimes.
We all know a diva like that, don’t we?” he jokes with a sigh of dramatic exasperation.
“Anyway, we’re having some minor technical difficulties, but don’t worry, we’ve got a fix-it man on the way.
In the meantime, we’re keeping the party rolling for a bit longer.
Here’s to the wild and crazy nights of Aruba! ”
The announcer makes it sound like this is no big deal, as though a little longer on a relaxing party cruise is the score of a lifetime. And typically, it would be.
But not tonight.
Not when I have fewer than twenty-four hours until the rehearsal dinner and multiple arrangements to prepare.
I knew I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have come out tonight.
It was irresponsible, but I’d wanted the one last night of fun with Lorenzo that he promised.
I just really need the reasonable bedtime he promised too because tomorrow is coming at a record pace.
And I’m sitting still in the water, miles away from my work, unable to do anything about it.
Maybe I can swim back? How far out are we? I look toward shore and the lights look like tiny pinpricks, so . . . that’s a no.
Is there someone I can call? A lifeline I can use? Way to think like an entitled brat, Abs.
I could take one of the lifeboats and row myself to shore, row-row-row-your boat style.
I’m swirling the drain, and though I know it, I can’t stop the downward spiral of my thoughts. This wedding is too important, and I’m afraid I’m going to let everyone down.
I feel Lorenzo’s steadying hands on my shoulders, lending me strength and warmth, and I suddenly feel like such a selfish bitch for only worrying about myself.
Lorenzo’s got stuff to do too and is likely just as worried as I am about making his deadlines.
I spin in place, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking up to meet his worried eyes. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed out too. I just . . .”
I break.
Right there on the dance floor, with partygoers dancing to Get Low and singing about furry boots with zero cares in the world. I fall apart in the comforting embrace of Lorenzo’s arms.
The tears come hot and hard, washing away everything I’ve worked so hard for like it’s nothing.
I have poured my everything into SweetPea and into this wedding, knowing that it would be make it or break it for me.
I never truly considered that it might actually break me, though.
I arrogantly thought I could handle anything and would make this wedding my bitch, even with Meredith working against me.
Until now.
That it’s not even Meredith’s doing but my own choice to fuck off during crunch time makes it suck that much worse.
Lorenzo holds me tight, his palms soothingly rubbing over my back. “Oh, mia rosa,” he murmurs softly.
I can sense Lorenzo and Janey having a silent conversation around me and blink the tears away long enough to see Janey shrug, telling Lorenzo that she doesn’t know what to do.
About me? About this mess? About tomorrow?
Probably all of the above. I’m not the fall-apart type. I’m the crisis management sort that you want on your team when the shit hits the fan.
“We can handle this, Abs. You and me, we got this. Flower power all the way,” Janey vows.
“Breathe, Abigail. Focus on the here and now and just breathe.” I tune in to Lorenzo’s calm breaths . . . in and out, in and out . . . making myself breathe with him.
Between the two of them and a deep well of my own strength, I pull it together, remembering who I am and what I’m capable of. I make the conscious decision to pull up my big girl panties and handle my shit.
I am Abigail Fucking Andrews—flower lover, businesswoman, and creative problem solver.
Nothing has happened yet. This is still nothing more than the potential for failure, not an actual catastrophe.
I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand, give Lorenzo a soft smile of apology that he returns slowly, and smooth my dress and hair. Like Mom always said, ‘you can’t be put together if you’re not put together.’
Well, it was something like that. Or maybe I’m making it up on the fly because I need a little pep talk? Whatever she did or didn’t say, I feel better with my back straight and my worries exposed to the light of day to be addressed.
“New plan. Let’s go talk to the captain. See what the ETA is on the repairman because if it’s the same guy who worked on the cooler, we need a plan B.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Janey clips out with a salute.
Lorenzo places his hand on the small of my back as he leads me across the floor once again.
There’s no time for any booty shaking or playing this time, but even that small supportive touch is all I need.
A show of his strength and that though he’s guiding me, I’m leading this ship. If I can just get it to fucking move.
We are on a mission.
Halfway across the floor, Emily calls out, “Abi! There you are, silly girl! I was looking for you.” She doesn’t miss a step of the dance she and Doug are doing. “We’re going to hit the blackjack table again since we’ve got some more time. Wanna play with us?”
“Sorry, can’t,” I say dismissively, trying to move through the crowd.
“Aw, c’mon! It’ll be fun. They’re giving chips out now, no money needed,” she cajoles.
Her smile is plastered on, but one look in her eyes tells me exactly what she’s alluding to.
She thinks I care about the money? Is that supposed to be a dig about my family’s riches compared to my lack thereof?
Emily must sense that she’s made her point because she verbally dances backward. “You know because of the engine thing.” She waves her hand in the air like the ‘engine thing’ is nothing.
God, how did I let myself get caught up in this again?
Especially when there are more important things going on.
She’s deftly played me right into a corner where she can pretend she was being friendly and inviting me to play a game, and if I say anything snarky, I come out looking like the overreacting bitch.
“No,” I tell her more firmly.
“Ooh, you scared I’ll beat you again?” she teases, but I can hear the mean-girl thread of challenge. Two steps forward, jab-jab, retreat. It’s a ploy she’s used time and time again.
One I’ve honestly played myself a time or two as well, not shutting this down from the get-go but fighting back in small slices of verbal warfare. I just can’t anymore. I’m at the end of my rope, and my give-a-fucker is fresh out of fucks to give. At least about this.
Truthfully, my heart hasn’t been in it for years, and look where falling back into this trap has gotten me. I’m disappointed in myself.
No more.
“I’m done, Emily,” I say flatly. “Done with cards, done with playing games, done with competing with you for no reason. I’m better than this.
Hell, maybe you’re better than this too and we just fell into old habits?
But I’m done. Truthfully, I haven’t thought of you or high school in years, and we both know why.
As of right now, I’m going back to not thinking of you anymore.
Have a nice life. I truly mean that. I hope you have a great life and a long, happy marriage.
” I say that last part to Doug, whose brows are knit together in confusion.
Emily can explain it to him . . . or not. I’m out of here. “Excuse me.”
Emily’s jaw has dropped open further and further during my little speech. But when I try to walk away, she grabs my arm, her nails digging into the mild sunburn on my skin.
“You always did think you were better than everyone else, didn’t you, Abi? And now, you think you can get the last word in and then walk away from me like I’m nothing?” Emily sneers.
Lorenzo would’ve let us be if she’d only verbally lashed out, but her fingers denting into the flesh of my arm is too much and he steps in close to our long-coming showdown. He growls, “Get your hands off her. Now.”