Chapter 10 Wedding Welcome Party
WEDDING WELCOME PARTY
ASHLEY
The theater’s at the front of the ship, and the event room is two decks down at the very back—or the aft, in proper nautical terms.
Technically, I’m running a little behind.
But I don’t mind.
The walk along the open deck—
I need it.
To shake off Beckett’s voice in my ear. His breath on my cheek. That stupid, familiar pull trying to trick me.
Let me be perfectly clear here. I’m divorcing my husband, not because I’m not attracted to him anymore, but because… I don’t love him anymore.
I can’t love a man that I don’t trust.
By the time I reach the event room, my head is straight again, and I flutter around for the next twenty minutes—adjusting decorations, reviewing the playlist with the DJ, and confirming the drink menu with the bartender.
Busy hands. Busy mind. That’s how I balance.
That’s when Tay slips in.
“Wow, you’ve done a great job with all this.” I almost don’t recognize her. Her platinum hair’s swinging around her shoulders, and in place of her khaki shorts and destination t-shirt, she’s wearing a sleeveless sundress that shows off toned arms and shoulders.
“Oh, this wasn’t me. I just got here a little bit ago. Anyway, I imagine you’re used to all this…” I say.
Because Tay’s an organizer as well.
As Luna’s two bridesmaids, we’ve shared more than a dozen emails back and forth over the past few months. Traveling as an international tour guide, Tay sent hers from all over the world.
We both take a moment to appreciate the combined effect of the decorations against the backdrop of the event hall’s massive windows, featuring nothing but endless ocean and sky.
“Yeah, no.” she laughs. “I handle the occasional dinners, but I’m not one for decorating…” But then she turns back to me. “Did you get your room situation squared away?”
Recalling the unexpected upgrade, flowers, and the unopened bottle of champagne, I grin. “We did.”
“And Grandma’s staying with the boys.” Tay tilts her head, pins her eyes on me, and lifts her brows with playful curiosity. “So… Beckett.”
I blink. “Yeah?”
“You and Luna really set unrealistic expectations for the rest of us, you know that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hot. You both found hot husbands.”
“Oh.” For all Beckett’s sins, she isn’t wrong. “Must’ve been all those Disney princes Mom raised us on. She set the bar unreasonably high.” I give her a bright, practiced smile.
But Tay just watches me a beat longer.
“You looked surprised when he showed up earlier. He didn’t fly in with the rest of you?”
My smile wavers but I’m saved from having to respond to that when my sister appears in the open door.
“Oh my God! Ashley, this is amazing!” Luna’s voice carries across the room, and before I can brace myself, she’s running at me, her yellow patchwork skirt flying out behind her. She throws her arms around my neck as if we hadn’t seen one another for weeks instead of a few hours.
She pulls back just as quickly to take in the room—delicate garland around the tables, soft gold accents, and floral centerpieces arranged in miniature saucepans, each one filled with herbs instead of flowers: rosemary, basil, lavender. Little nods to Luna’s cooking show.
Every table has a framed photo taken over the past year: The happy couple walking along frothy waves in front of Gran’s old beach house, a few from their tour of the southwest, and a number of random couple selfies.
“When did you have time to do all this?” Luna asks.
I cock one brow. “Why did you think I wanted all those pictures?”
But she’s shaking her head, studying one of the napkins I had printed with tiny buses and “Noah and Luna” stamped in silver.
“Well, it’s incredible.” She spins, spotting familiar faces at the entrance. “Patty and Denise!” She skips a little.
Two women in their late fifties approach us. The taller one, Patty, offers a reserved smile, while her wife, Denise, enthusiastically engulfs my sister in a hug—muumuu and all.
They’re a few of the friends Luna made on that bus tour last year—the couple she’d been helping with ideas for the bed-and-breakfast they wanted to open.
“Patty and Denise—you remember my sister from the engagement party?”
“Of course we do,” Patty says warmly. “Good to see you again, Ashley. I hear you’ve been helping our Luna pull everything together. And getting married on a cruise? Very romantic.”
“We wanted to keep it small,” Luna says, her eyes sparkling. “But make it really special.”
“I think you’ve hit your mark,” Denise adds, her eyes scanning the room. “Although I”m not sure I’d call this small.”
I smile. “We’re just glad so many people could make it.”
“The timing worked out perfectly,” Patty says. “We’re closing on the absolute cutest Victorian next month in Colorado.”
“Wait—I thought you’d settled on Maine?” Luna asks, brows lifting.
They exchange a quick glance and a laugh.
“We thought so too,” Patty says. “But then Tay sent us a realtor brochure from this tiny little town right between the mountains and the desert…”
“We fell in love with it the second we saw it,” Patty finishes. “And the kitchen? Incredible.”
Luna practically bounces. “Oh, I want pictures! And you have to include the kitchen, of course.”
“But no work talk this week,” Denise announces, lifting a hand playfully. “It’s your wedding, dear. You should be focusing on enjoying yourself with your man.”
“Speaking of…” Patty jumps in. “Where is Noah, anyway?”
Luna glances toward the door.
“He’ll be here any second. Noah’s mom called just before we came down. Said her balcony door wouldn’t open.”
Ah yes—Mrs. Grady. The woman who brought the groom’s ex-wife as her plus one.
Luna’s handling it all with grace. I’m not as forgiving.
“There he is now!” Denise waves, but Noah’s already crossing the room—his eyes locked on Luna like she’s the only woman on the ship.
He’s stopped briefly by an older man with an old-fashioned camera slung around his neck. They shake hands, Noah asks him a question or two, pats him on the back, and then moves on.
“That’s Roger Dunlap,” Luna whispers by my ear. “He’s the man who had a heart attack in the desert. He looks better now. His wife promised he’ll be taking it easy.”
“Our very own Doctor Noah!” Patty says as Noah reaches our little party, giving him a squeeze.
More hugs. More gushing.
And then his arm slides around my sister’s waist.
The hello kiss he gives her isn’t showy, just easy. Unconsidered. Real. Luna’s cheeks flush when he pulls back, and I know she’d let him keep going if he wanted to.
I step back, watching them, touching each other without thinking, fitting together in a way that doesn’t require rules.
Which is exactly what makes my chest tighten.
Just minutes ago, Beckett and I were quietly negotiating the rules of our pretend happily ever after—what would look convincing, what was absolutely necessary. What I could tolerate. What I’d allow.
And what I couldn’t.
The contrast is stark enough that I have to look away.
I don’t want to think about this. About how different it feels. About how I never expected to be here.
Beckett and I have been married for eleven years, but we’ve been an “us” for almost fifteen. High school sweethearts. God, that sounds so innocent now.
I force my attention outward—to the guests, the laughter, the way everyone has shown up for Luna. I want this week to be perfect for her.
But then I feel it, that shift in the air, and sure enough, when I turn to the door, I see Beckett standing there, scanning the crowd. Looking for me, a traitorous voice whispers in my head in anticipation.
The worst part is that I know he is, the same way that I knew it was him when he walked in the room. Like a tug on a line that I can’t shake loose, a thread that links us together and always has, from the very moment I first saw him.
I’d had a similar feeling, of just… knowing, and when I glanced up from my locker, he was watching me from across the hall. He didn’t look away. Just smiled that slow, confident smile that made my stomach do something unhelpful.
He was handsome then, in that quarterback slash class president slash boy-next-door kind of way. But it was his eyes that got me—bright blue, sharp as sunlight on water. They’d sparkle when he laughed, when he wanted something, when he looked at me.
And somehow, he’s even more handsome now. Time sharpened all the edges.
I just wish…
“The kids?” I mouth the question.
“With your mom and Babs,” he mouths back.
He moves to stand next to me, the same way he would have before all this, like we belong at each other’s sides.
A matched set. Just like our suitcases.
We’ve always shared this easy… connection, but over the past year, even before he moved out, it’s as though the volume has been turned way down. Off, if I’m being honest.
Beckett slides his arm around my waist, hand settling at my hip.
I ignore the fluttering low in my belly.
It’s only for show.
Luna’s bus tour friends are looking at us both expectantly, Denise giving me a not-so-subtle waggle of her eyebrows. “Now, who is this fine young man?” she asks. “Yours, I assume?”
“My husband,” I say brightly. ““This is Beckett. Bex, these are some of Luna’s friends from that bus tour last summer, Denise and her wife, Patty.”
“My favorite brother-in-law!” Luna beams, looping her arms around him before he can protest. “We’ve missed you!”
Beckett laughs softly, returning her hug with a brotherly squeeze.
But then two other women slide over.
“Oh, Mrs. Grady! Did Noah get the door to your balcony open?”
“He did. Something about our card not being in the slot all the way.” Her expression is all disapproval. “They really should warn you about these things.”
“I’m just glad he could figure it out for you,” Luna says. And then my gracious sister gestures toward Beckett and me. “You’ve met Ashley, my sister, but this is her husband, Beckett. Bex, this is Christine Grady, Noah’s mom.”
Have I mentioned that Noah’s mom is not my favorite person?
Not very hospitable of me—I know—but ever since she tried to break Luna and Noah up, I haven’t felt charitable towards her.
There’s another woman at Mrs. Grady’s side, about my age, with shiny blonde hair and an easy smile. “And I’ve told you about Courtney, right?” Luna says brightly.
“Of course,” I say. But she is my sister’s fiancé’s ex-wife. So…
There’s a beat where we all smile at one another, polite and faintly uncertain.
“You’re in real estate with Mrs. Grady, right?” I ask Courtney, grasping at something neutral.
She nods. “That’s right. But I’m shifting my focus to financial management.”
“Oh—nice,” I say. “It’s good to keep your options open, I imagine.”
Courtney laughs lightly. “I think so.”
Luna jumps in, mercifully. “Courtney flew in yesterday. We’re so glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Courtney says, sincere but careful.
With Beckett’s hand still resting at my back, I smile, nod, and let the conversation drift where it wants.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Grady,” Beckett says, reaching around me to shake Noah’s mother’s hand.
“Likewise.” She takes his hand in both of hers, smiling like they’re old friends. “I’ve heard so much about you. Luna says you do investment planning?”
“Broker,” Beckett replies, smooth and practiced.
Mrs. Grady lights up. “Perfect! Courtney and I have been dabbling a bit—looking at ways to expand the real estate business into some broader offerings. It’s mostly research for now, but we’re serious about it.”
Courtney, standing just behind her, chimes in with a nod. “We’ve been watching the market closely—trying to figure out the safest sectors, the biggest risks, that kind of thing.”
Mrs. Grady’s eyes sharpen, her tone still casual but clearly informed. “Which firm are you with?”
“Midtown.”
“Impressive,” Courtney jumps in. “Hopefully they’re not one of the firms caught up in the Aurum Micro mess?”
Aurum Micro. Where have I heard that name before?
“Not at all.” Beckett’s smile dims—just a fraction—before resetting. “We handle mostly mid-cap portfolios.”
I glance at him, but keep my expression neutral. Midtown must have dropped them. It would explain the end of the bonus checks.
Mrs. Grady hums thoughtfully. “I’ll have to pick your brain this week. My clients are getting antsy, and Courtney keeps saying we’re missing opportunities.”
Beckett chuckles, smooth as ever, though his fingers are thrumming against his leg.
Then Courtney turns to me. “Luna says you’ve been her rock through all of this planning.” Her smile stays easy. “You’ve been through it yourself, after all—though it’s been a while. How long have you and Beckett been married?”
She’s smiling. Friendly. Nothing more than that.
“Forever,” I say.
Beckett’s hand has been on my waist this entire time, but now he pulls me closer. “Fifteen years next month,” he adds, his breath caressing the side of my face. “High school sweethearts. She used to write our names in Sharpie on her Converse.”
“You must both have been so young,” Courtney says.
“Ash was just a sophomore, I was a senior.”
“And you’ve been together ever since?”
Beckett turns to meet my eyes. “Pretty much.”
“Aww, that’s so cute! You both are so lucky.”
“Oh, luck had very little to do with it. She made me chase her,” he says. “Which was fair. She was always smarter than me.” Wait, what? “Still is. I don’t know how she does it—manage the boys, keep the house together, and still get her own business off the ground.”
My chest tightens.
Where is this coming from? Why now?
Then, he leans closer and—before I can decide what to do about it, if anything—there’s the warm press of his mouth against my hair. Light. Familiar.
My heart lurches, caught completely off guard by not just the affection, but because…
Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like he’s pretending.
And… it’s too much. Too close.
“I should check on the buffet,” I murmur, even as I’m already pulling away.
Beckett’s hands fall away. “Everything okay?”
“Mhm. All fine.”
He knows that’s not true.
Because he knows me.
And the expression on his face, oh God, it nearly breaks me.
I turn and walk. Not toward the food stations. Not toward anyone who might stop me. I thread my way through the crowd like my body knows where to go even if my head doesn’t.
Nothing is wrong. No one needs me. There’s no excuse to make.
Except that I need air.
Because he’s saying the things he never said when they mattered—and I can feel them working, pressing at places I’ve already sealed shut. Places I had to close to survive.
I didn’t fight my way to this decision just to let him talk me out of it now.
It’s too late. And I need him to understand that.
So I keep moving. Faster. Away.
Before I give him even the smallest opening to believe this can still be fixed.