14. Chapter Fourteen Theo
Chapter Fourteen: Theo
I wake up earlier than necessary for the second day in a row. Last night rushes back toward me as I sit up in bed and stare out the wavy glass of the old cottage windows.
Lucy .
I almost… We almost…
I wanted to kiss her.
I want to kiss her, present tense. Even now, after I had hoped I’d sleep off the leftover adrenaline from her body pressed so close to mine, I swear I can still smell her fruity shampoo and summery perfume—something like coconut and vanilla—overwhelming me in the best possible way.
Then Eric showed up.
It was like being doused in icy water. Eric, the boy who will forever be known in her memories as her first kiss. The man who took my chance when I was too much of a coward. The man who can match Lucy’s energy, who is just as chatty and bright and warm, and who clearly likes her a great deal.
It shouldn’t bother me. I’m going back to California after this weekend. Back to my quiet and solitude. Back to being far away from her.
For some reason, the thought fills me with desolation. It’s only now occurring to me that I don’t have much of a life in California. Even though I grew up in Los Angeles, I don’t have the same connection to the city as the locals of Mermaid Shores have with their beloved town. A part of me wants to know what that’s like. To wake up feeling truly at peace where you are. To know that it’s where you belong.
I shake my head to dispel these useless thoughts and rise from bed. I need fresh air, but I don’t feel like hiking down the dunes to the beach.
Since the wedding venue is located at the edge of town up high on the cliffs, I suppose that’s as good a place as any to breathe some refreshing sea air. It’s just after dawn. Nobody will be there yet. I can center myself and reorganize my thoughts before I’m forced to endure hours upon hours of socializing.
I grab the garment bag hanging from the back of the closet door, which contains one of my nicest suits, and head out to my rental car. The morning air is cool and salty, and there’s a hazy fog kissing the damp grass, but the clear sky overhead tells me that the sun will burn off the moisture in no time. It’s going to be a beautiful day for a wedding.
The drive to the cliffs is quick, but the scenery is so stunning that I find myself slowing down on the narrow, winding lane. I pass by several old manor houses, each of them guarded by gates of stone or iron. The GPS directs me up a steady incline to the very tip of a massive cliff jutting out proudly into the sea.
An enormous, incredibly elegant mansion stands like a Greek-columned castle at the top of the cliff. I stare up at it as I pull into the parking lot far below. Even as someone who grew up among the rich and famous, I’m in awe of this place. Elijah told me that Blakeley Manor was nice, but I certainly didn’t picture anything like this.
Because I’m so blown away by the overwhelming beauty of the manor and the grounds and the roaring Atlantic beyond, it takes me several minutes to realize that I’m not the only car in the parking lot. There are at least a dozen others: a minivan overflowing with flowers, currently being hauled toward the manor in huge bunches by a small crew of burly men and one very tiny older lady; another van with the words Lee Catering printed in curling script on the side, with groggy kitchen staff rummaging around inside; and also a gorgeous old-school Mercedes, white as seafoam, parked in the lot.
The ceremony doesn’t start until two, but I’m obviously not the only one who thought to get an early start. It’s not even seven o’clock yet.
As two more cars pull into the lot, I realize that I certainly am not going to be able to enjoy any solitude up here. A silver-haired woman climbs out of a rusty Subaru, joined swiftly by the blonde twins from the water balloon prank last night. The girls are chatting, their heads tilted together as they march up the winding gravel path to the manor, but the old woman pauses to glance in my direction, as if she could feel my gaze on her.
Then, like she knows me, she smiles. The woman is clad in layers of multicolored, draping cloth. Her wrists are weighed down with bangles, her neck decorated with half a dozen necklaces. She nods her head toward the manor, as if encouraging me to go inside, then turns to follow the twins up the path.
I consider going back to the cottage, but I’m already here and, honestly, I feel antsy. Restless. Maybe I can distract myself by asking one of the wedding staff to put me to work for a while.
I take a deep breath and climb out of the car. Immediately, a gust of salty air blows through my hair. I know that there’s a suite of rooms set aside for the men and women, respectively, to get ready for the ceremony together, but I leave my suit in the car for now. I can grab it later when Elijah arrives. I hadn’t planned on joining the guys beforehand, content to doll myself up alone at the cottage, but it’s too late to turn back now.
Plus, as weird as it sounds, I almost feel like I’m being guided onward by some unseen force.
Inside the manor, I’m stunned by the vast, high-ceiling halls and tasteful decor. It’s probably the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, which would break my mother’s heart, considering she takes such great pride in the interior decor of her Malibu mansion.
I follow the flow of traffic down an arched hallway with an intricately carved ceiling.
Although there is a steady buzz of chatter and a cacophony of clattering objects echoing from all directions, one voice manages to break through the noise and capture my attention.
“No, no! Roy! For Pete’s sake, I adore you, but we can’t have the gardenias in here. The scent is too strong; they’ll completely overpower the hydrangeas!”
“But, Mrs. Whitten—”
“Don’t you go blaming the best florist in Cape Cod for your silly judgment! The gardenias need to be in the ballroom. Go on!”
Normally, that voice would send me running, but instead I find myself smiling and moving toward it with purpose.
“Liam, are you done with those lights?” A pause. A mumbled response I can’t pick up on. “What do you mean you can’t reach? You’re six-two! And anyway, don’t you know what a ladder is? Come on, now!”
My smile grows.
“Brittany, dear, can you please bring the baskets of favors into the east wing for now? No, that’s south, Britt—yes, there you go!”
I turn the corner and find myself in a colossal conservatory crafted entirely from glass and steel. There are plants everywhere, pouring forth from the marble-floored edges of the cavernous space as if nature is trying to take over. Vines crawl up elegant columns that hold the glittering ceiling aloft, gleaming like emeralds in the brightening sunlight. I smell lilacs and pine and, perhaps to Lucy’s dismay, a hint of gardenia in the air.
A squad of burly men are setting up rows upon rows of chairs for the guests. The space is brimming with activity as the townspeople get to work preparing for what is apparently going to be the wedding of the century.
And Lucy is in the middle of it all, standing on top of a metal folding chair and directing the flow of people like a conductor before her symphony.
“Joshie! What are you doing in here? …What do you mean you’re looking for Mabel? She’s in the kitchen with Gigi!”
I make my way down the aisle, unnoticed by the busy staff.
“Miss Maisie! Oh, thank goodness you’re here! Yes, Mr. Linworth is waiting for you back in his office.”
To my surprise, I realize that Lucy is talking to the silver-haired woman. The mystical lady smiles up at Lucy where she lords over the organized chaos in neon running shorts and a baggy Red Sox tee. The woman salutes Lucy with a playful wink. Then, just like in the parking lot, her gaze turns to me as if she already knew I was there.
Lucy must see something in the woman’s wise gaze, because she twists around toward the aisle.
I pause a couple yards away from her, surprised by how startled she looks to see me. She glances down at her rumpled clothes, her cheeks turning vaguely pink, and then looks back up at me. It’s not like I look much better in my sweatpants and plain cotton tee. When I left the cottage, I hadn’t planned on running into another human until I changed into my suit.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she echoes.
I think about last night. I think about what happened twelve years ago. I think about everything and nothing all at once.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I, um, was wondering if I could be any help.”
Before she can answer, a muscular guy I recognize from behind the bar at the Siren & Sword calls out to Lucy from the perimeter of the room.
“Lucy! We’ve got a problem!”
With a heavy sigh, Lucy whips her head toward him. “What now , Liam?”
“I don’t know why you gave this task to me. I don’t know anything about technology. I think I’m completely messing this up.”
“You literally have the exact same lighting system in the restaurant.”
“Yes, but I paid somebody else to install it, obviously.”
Lucy scoffs as Liam approaches, hands held up in surrender.
Before she can leap on him like a snarling tiger, I step forward. “I can do it.”
Liam halts, noticing me for the first time. He gives me a polite smile, even though he clearly has no idea who I am. “You good with tech?”
I nod. Lucy sighs again.
Liam grins. “It’s all yours, man. Lucy, I’m gonna go do some heavy lifting. I think I’ll be much more useful that way.”
“Yeah, you do that,” she grumbles.
Then, without another word, Lucy hops down from the chair, grabs my wrist, and practically drags me over to where Liam was messing around with some wires and a digital tablet.
“Bluetooth string lights,” she explains, pointing up at the ceiling.
I squint my eyes and notice thin strings of delicate wire draping in elegant, nearly imperceptible arcs from the ceiling and then spiraling down the columns and spreading across the floor. It’s easy to imagine that, when they’re turned on, it’ll look like this conservatory is glowing with a thousand fireflies.
“The glass panels can be dimmed,” Lucy continues, talking more to the equipment on the ground than to me. “When Josie walks down the aisle, we’ll dim the sunlight and turn on the stars. Blah, blah, blah. But, clearly, even though Liam told me he knew how this system worked, he can’t manage it. I know you’re, like, a coder or whatever, but can you…?”
I snort. “‘A coder or whatever.’”
“I don’t actually know what you do. All I know is that you went to Caltech.”
“I design apps, so you’re technically correct.”
“Right, well… can you help?”
“Absolutely.”
She nods once, takes a step away, then pauses and opens her mouth as if she wants to say something else. I wait, but then she simply shakes her head and marches away.
“Joshie!” she barks. “ Why are you still in here?”
I get to work. It’s easy enough to program the lights. After a few minutes of messing around with the tablet and switching a few wires, I run a test and turn them on. In the early morning light, they twinkle to life and engulf the staff in a soft white glow. Appreciative murmurs rumble throughout the space.
A delighted squeal from the other side of the conservatory tells me that Lucy is pleased. She comes bounding over. My stomach flips at the smile on her face.
It must be the first time she’s ever truly smiled at me.
“What else do you need?” I ask.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Follow me. I have a projector that needs to be set up in the ballroom with photos documenting Josie and Elijah’s love story from, like, infancy. It’ll be on a loop while they cut the cake, have their first dance, and all that.”
Like a duckling, I follow after her. I get the projector squared away in less than fifteen minutes. After that, Lucy drags me back to the conservatory, where she needs me to confirm the mic system is working. Since there will be so many people in attendance, she wants to make sure everyone can hear the officiant, bride, and groom all the way in the back.
And, apparently, the silver-haired woman named Miss Maisie is officiating the wedding.
“Who is she?” I ask Lucy.
“What do you mean?”
“Maisie. She seems… important.”
I tap on the microphone cleverly disguised in the flowering arch over the altar to test it. A clear buzz of feedback tells me it’s functioning perfectly.
“Miss Maisie is a local legend,” Lucy explains. “She’s the wise woman of the beach. A harbinger of good fortune. Our ambassador to the sirens. She also makes an amazing vegan baked ziti.”
I’m not sure if that explains how she seems to know exactly who I am, but it’s not important. Not when Lucy and I have reached a point in our dynamic where we’re no longer snapping at each other’s throats. Something shifted last night. I don’t know what exactly changed, but things feel different between us. Less tense. Less like tinder waiting to be struck.
“She’s also Amy and Ruby’s grandmother,” Lucy continues. “The twins, I mean. I’m sure you’ve seen them. Do you think this flower arch is crooked?”
I blink, trying to keep up with her babbling and the sharp change of topic. At this point, the chairs have all been set up and the conservatory has mostly emptied out, save for a small group of people fussing with garlands of blue ribbon and fluffy peonies down by the double-door entrance.
Lucy is frowning up at the cascade of wisteria overhead. Only then do I realize that we’re standing on the altar together, and we have been for quite some time. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the strange tingling sensation that feels an awful lot like desire.
“I think it’s fine,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “No, the balance is off. Can you reach that bundle up there and move it slightly higher?”
Thanks to my height, I’m able to reach the offending tendril of wisteria without effort. With Lucy’s guidance, I gently weave it around a different curl of wire.
She continues frowning, though.
“No, wait. I think the problem is these flowers over here.”
“Lucy, it looks perfectly fine.”
“It does not .”
With a sigh, I let her continue to direct me. My arms start aching as I carefully reposition the delicate trails of wisteria to Lucy’s satisfaction, but I don’t dare complain.
She grins at me for half a heartbeat, but the smile fades almost instantly when I try to let my arm down and realize that the long sleeve of my shirt is caught in the wire. I pull, but the sturdy cotton doesn’t budge, and I don’t want to ruin the arch. It’s quite literally the centerpiece of the entire ceremony.
“I’m stuck,” I tell her.
“Yes, I see that,” she mutters.
Lucy walks away wordlessly. For a second, I’m wondering if she plans on leaving me here, imprisoned in the wisteria. She returns a moment later, however, with a step stool in hand. She sets it down beside me and climbs until she’s a couple inches taller than me.
With a cautious touch, she tugs at my sleeve. All I can do is stand there with my arm awkwardly suspended above my head, terribly aware of how close she is to me once again. I find myself smiling at what looks like a coffee stain on the shoulder of her t-shirt. It really looks like she rolled out of bed and immediately stormed over here. There’s something endearing about that single-minded determination to make this the best possible wedding for her cousin. Josie is lucky. I come from a small, fractured family. I don’t think anyone has ever cared about me like Lucy cares for Josie.
Weirdly, as Lucy fusses over my sleeve, I think I might be jealous of that. Jealous of the people who have Lucy’s affection. Josie, Elijah, Eric… it must be truly amazing to bask in her light like that. To not be the storm cloud that threatens to hang over her.
“How did you even manage to get this stuck?” she mutters.
“You tell me. I was just following your commands.”
“Well, you were only supposed to hook the stems in the wire, not your own clothes.”
I roll my eyes. “Really? I had no idea.”
Lucy huffs in frustration. “Listen, I really don’t want to rip your sleeve, but—”
“Just do it.”
“No, I think…” she trails off, her tongue sticking out slightly as she pours all her focus into extracting me from this fragrant jungle.
A dark wave of her hair springs out of her braid and brushes against my jaw. I remember the way she yelped and laughed when I broke that balloon over her head last night, her wild hair curling in the sudden dampness.
Her face is so close to mine, almost as close as it was last night, but she doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Aha!” she exclaims.
There’s a release of tension and my sleeve breaks free from the wire without ripping. Lucy beams proudly and shifts on the stool to face me fully. I find myself gazing up into her eyes. A stray wisteria petal has detached from the arch and landed in her hair. Without thinking, I reach up and brush it away.
Lucy stares at me, her expression unreadable.
Though I try to stop myself, my gaze drops down to her lips. We’re not supposed to be the ones kissing on this altar, but the rapturous desire to feel her lips on mine is so strong that it nearly sends me to my knees.
Neither one of us moves. It’s as if the entire world around us has gone silent.
I might do it. I could do it. I might be misreading the situation, but I’m certain she’d let me kiss her. It feels like unfinished business. An incomplete chapter. Something that the universe demands from both of us.
A shrill chime chops clumsily through the moment like a blunt knife.
Lucy gasps and yanks her phone out of her pocket. She turns off the alarm and quickly hops down from the stool.
“How is it already ten o’clock? Oh my goodness, Josie is supposed to be here at ten. I have to go start getting her ready. And you! You need to go clean up! Get your suit on!”
“It won’t take me four hours to—”
“Go! I’m sure Harry is already upstairs. Shoot, where the heck are my shoes…”
And, as if another almost-kiss didn’t just hang between us, Lucy scampers off—hilariously barefoot—without a backward glance.