Chapter 3 Day 1, Sail Away
ASHLEY
Ishuffle toward the snaking line at the dock, the boys orbiting me like little planets, Blakey tucked in close, always within reaching distance, Max circling us both like a herding dog. The Port of Los Angeles is bustling, as one would expect, huge shipping vessels towering over the crowds.
My phone, hot in my hand, has been maddeningly silent.
He didn’t show.
Of all the things Beckett’s missed, this one leaves me feeling… shaken.
He promised. It shouldn’t have meant this much, after everything else, but it does.
Luna’ll be so disappointed. Who will walk her down the aisle?
“Holy moly,” Blakey declares with as much gravity as a seven-year-old can manage, eyes widening as he points toward the ship. “We’re gonna be riding on that? I’ve never seen anything this big in my entire life! It’s HUGE! Like the Avengers’ ship—but even cooler cause it has a water slide!”
Max snorts. “No way. The Helicarrier is, like, way cooler. It flies, Blake.”
“Yeah, well, this one has pools and laser tag, so I think it wins,” Blakey shoots back.
“The Avengers’ ship has missiles.”
“This one has grandma,” Blakey counters, and Max cracks up so hard the people in front of us turn around.
I force a smile, even though I’m really not feeling it.
“Dad will know which one is better,” Blakey insists.
“If he ever gets here.” Max starts walking backwards but I spin him back around so he doesn’t trip on his little rolling suitcase.
I hate to hear that kind of talk from them, like their dad disappointing them is becoming something that’s normal now.
It twists that coil of resentment in my heart just that little bit farther, that Beckett’s willing to do this not just to me, but to our boys too.
Luckily, Max and Blakey are still young enough that they seem to be able to roll with the punches pretty easily, but that won’t stay true forever.
It never occurred to me that they might have to learn to grow up with an absent father.
One step at a time, Ashley. And right now, that next step is checking in for my baby sister’s weeklong wedding cruise.
Normally, I’d be marveling at the masses of people, incredibly chill people, strolling into the ordered chaos occupying the entire length of the dock.
The luggage guys, shouting and whisking bags away with practiced speed. The ropes funneling people into tidy rows. The numbered signs.
Everything moving along like a well-oiled machine.
But today?
Even that satisfying symmetry can’t quiet the panic pounding in my stomach.
Beckett was supposed to meet us at the airport yesterday.
He never showed.
He didn’t return my texts. Didn’t answer my calls.
I’d be worried—if I weren’t also absolutely, blisteringly furious.
And yet, I’m smiling. I have to keep smiling.
“Mom!” Max tugs my sleeve, nearly toppling my purse and the matching carry-on I’m balancing between us. “Look, it’s Grandma!”
Sure enough, when I turn, my mother is approaching—face shaded by a sensible sunhat, tote bag secure on her shoulder, looking exactly like someone who has read the itinerary and packed accordingly.
“Darlings!” Mom exclaims. “There’s my handsome grandsons!”
The boys launch themselves at her like missiles, wrapping their arms around her legs.
Babs trails behind, colorful sunglasses glittering like a disco ball in the California sun and a sparkly bedazzled tumbler in hand—likely filled with some sort of mushroom coffee.
She gives me that look I’ve still not gotten used to, the one that says she knows exactly what’s going on behind my designer sunglasses.
I really don’t need that today.
“How do you always manage to look like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine?” Babs asks me, tilting her head with mock suspicion. “And where’s that handsome husband of yours?”
I roll my eyes and answer the first question while ignoring the second. “It’s hereditary. You have met my mom, haven’t you? Though a good moisturizer doesn’t hurt.” My laugh sounds lighter than I feel.
Before she can reply, Luna and Noah appear through the crowd, hand-in-hand, glowing with the radiance of two people who’ve found their soulmates. Luna’s practically levitating, her dark brown curls bouncing, her sundress swaying, her entire body humming with joy.
She squeals and throws her arms around me.
“Can you believe we’re actually doing this?” she says, hugging me tight enough to squeeze the breath right out of my lungs. Her hair smells like coconut and sunshine. When she finally steps back, she’s smiling so wide it almost hurts to look at her.
I do my best to match her excitement, ignoring the tightness in my chest.
Because I’m proud of her, I really am. And I’m happy she’s happy. But that glowing look on her face, that effortless love and certainty—it’s like staring straight into the sun.
Her eyes flick past my shoulder, still bright with expectation. “Where’s Bex?”
I may have gotten away with ignoring this question with Babs, but I know I can’t with Luna.
“He—” I start, hating the words before they come out.
“Right here.”
His voice comes from behind me at the exact moment a hand slides around my waist. And I hate—hate—that after everything, my body lights up inside.
It’s only been a few weeks since he moved out, but the distance between us didn’t start then. It had been there much longer.
Even when he was home, he wasn’t really there.
He shut me out.
And now he’s touching me like none of it ever happened.
But I remind myself. This is the plan. It’s exactly what I asked him to do.
Still, the words come out tight and sharp. “Nice of you to show.”
“You said Long Beach,” he answers back softly.
I blink. That doesn’t sound like me. But then I remember scribbling Long Beach out in my own planner and writing down the Port of Los Angeles instead. I’d misread it somehow and must not have figured it out until after I spoke to Beckett on the phone.
God, I’ve been so frazzled lately.
But still… “You missed the flight.”
His eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses I don’t recognize. “I got held up by security.”
His answer sounds oddly practiced.
The boys catch sight of him before I can challenge his lame excuse. “Dad!” Max yells, unlatching from my mom’s leg and darting forward. “You made it!”
Blakey’s right behind him, arms out, voice cracking with excitement. “Mom said you were stuck in Dallas!”
Beside me, Beckett somehow scoops them both up, one on each hip, though their legs hang too long now, knees knocking against his thighs. They squeal anyway, laughing as they cling to him, like they still believe they fit there.
Of course they missed him. How could they not?
I swallow hard, watching their faces—those wide, adoring eyes.
As the person who’s had to make all those excuses for why Dad can’t make it, I’ve seen those eyes dim too many times.
“Daddy wanted to be here… His plane is late. His boss is being a meanie…”
I’m the one who’s lived with the fallout.
And now, watching the way they look at him, as if he hung the stars—
All I can think is: He’s the one who made them fall.
I should stop this now—tell him to go home, that we need to come clean with everyone. Every self-help book I’ve read would advise against this stupid plan.
Before I can say anything, Luna barrels into us, arms everywhere, somehow hugging me, Beckett, and both boys in one chaotic swoop.
“Bex! It’s been forever!” she exclaims over Max and Blakey’s delighted shrieks, planting a loud kiss on his cheek.
Then she pulls back and really looks at him. Her smile falters—just for a second.
“Yikes, big brother. When’s the last time you slept?” A teasing lilt… but her eyes flicker with concern.
She brightens up again immediately though, sending me a wink.
“Good thing I’m getting married on a cruise. You two are gonna have actual downtime for once.” Another nudge. “Warm ocean breeze, sunsets… maybe a chance to remember you’re not just Mom and Dad?”
My stomach flips, but I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses.
Luna sees right through me. “Seriously—I’m playing the bride card this week. Mandatory relaxing. Mandatory fun. Maybe even a date night or two.”
And just like that, I can’t do it. I can’t be the one to kill the mood, to ruin my sister’s perfect beginning with my messy middle. My messy ending?
So I lock in my smile and glance up at my husband.
And—of course—he looks unfairly good.
His hair, combed back and still damp at the edges, catches the sunlight. His jaw shows that faint shadow he can never quite shave away, and I can smell his aftershave—clean, sharp, expensive.
He shoves his glasses up onto his head, and his eyes—those impossible, shifting blues—lock onto mine.
They’ve never been a simple color. More like moonstone catching different light, cool and distant one moment, deep enough to swallow me whole the next.
Eyes that used to undo me with a single look.
Eyes I once trusted too easily.
My breath hitches, and even though I know I need to look like a loving wife, I can feel those secrets gathering like shadows, and I step out of his reach.
“Alright everyone, let’s get our luggage to one of the porters and line up for security,” I announce briskly, clapping my hands once, as if I’m corralling a kindergarten class instead of a wedding party. “Carry-ons stay with us, passports out, boarding passes ready. Let’s move, people.”
If I sound bossy, fine. Bossy keeps things orderly. Bossy keeps me from dwelling on Beckett’s unnerving presence.
At the same time, I’m mentally scanning my lists—the one in my planner and the backup on my phone.
The boys’ clothes, sunscreen, swimsuits—check.
Bachelorette party décor, tiaras, satin sashes, and all the other little extras I have planned because I’m going to be the best maid of honor ever—check.
Wedding day essentials, the veil, backup shoes, miniature fans, emergency kit—safety pins, lint roller, tissues—double check.