Chapter 30 Day 4, Mazatlán
ASHLEY
I’m barely awake when the elevator doors glide open—and of course, Luna is already there.
Freshly blow-dried. Disgustingly radiant. Even in bike shorts and an oversized “Bride Vibes” tee, she looks like she’s been up for hours.
“What’s Beckett doing this morning?” she asks, like it’s the most casual question in the world.
“Still sleeping,” I say, like everything is fine.
Technically, it’s not a lie. He came back late again last night, and of course, I’d pretended to be asleep.
I don’t think he’d been drinking—his footsteps were steady.
I’d held my breath when I thought he might try to climb in beside me.
And when he’d gone to the sofa, I couldn’t begin to describe how I felt. Relieved? Disappointed? Sad? Grateful?
When I left this morning, he was still out cold.
Luna gives me a knowing look, then winks. “Romantic night?”
Before I can even try to summon a lie—she presses a to-go cup into my hands, grinning.
“Vanilla latte,” she says sweetly. “But don’t worry. It’s decaf.”
“Oh.” My cheeks are already hurting from all the smiling. Somehow, pretending to be pregnant feels like the least of my worries. “Perfect.”
She takes a sip of her drink, then eyes me with a tilt of her head—sympathetic now, like she’s clocked the fact that I’m not exactly radiating joy.
“Did you eat anything yet? Mom says she used to keep saltines by her bed.”
I freeze, latte hovering just below my lips. I could explain.
I could end this charade right now.
But she looks so happy. Glowing.
So instead, I swallow the truth—along with the first sip of lukewarm decaf—and then let out a dry laugh. “I’m good. No saltines necessary.” And then I latch onto something I’d been worried about. “I’m so sorry about the boat yesterday. I didn’t think it’d be so—well…”
“Rustic?” Luna offers with a grin.
I wince. “That. And also maybe… murdery on the stomach?”
“Oh my God, Ash.” She loops her arm through mine as we start toward the salon.
“You worry way too much. It was perfect. Memorable. Roger and Helen said the Booze Cruise from Hell made them grateful to be alive. Tay says Julio gave her his phone number. And Josie’s hoping the videos she took go viral. ”
That’s just… great.
“Wait.” I pause. “Who’s calling it the Booze Cruise from Hell?”
“Babs wanted me to thank you. She swears she lost five pounds.”
“No, seriously. Who’s calling it that?”
Luna tilts her head. “Mrs. Grady said it was the cruise from hell. Rocky added the booze part.”
“And how do you even know all this? I thought you went right to bed when we got back and…” I glance at my watch. “It’s not even eight.”
She grins. “It’s all on the group chat.”
“What group chat?”
She gives me a look. “You were invited.”
“No.” I cross my arms. “I was definitely not invited.”
“You were,” she insists, dragging out the words. “But, like… have you even been on Facebook since the Obama administration?”
“I go on Facebook.”
“Not enough.” She shrugs. Then, after a pause— “You’re not missing much.”
Her face says otherwise.
Her face says, “you missed everything”.
The chatter. The inside jokes. The commentary on me and Beckett. The so-called pregnancy.
That’s how the rumor spread. And it wasn't just gossip—it was documentation.
Thank God the boys don’t have accounts yet. Beckett and I agreed—no social media until sixteen. Minimum.
Still.
“Well, that’s horrifying.” I blow out a breath. “I’m never living that cruise down, am I?”
“It’ll blow over,” she says with a shrug. “Besides, it was fun. Honest.”
“You threw up. Multiple times.”
“Small detail.” She flips her hair. “You’re forgetting I have a fiancé who’s a doctor. And that man? Has an incredible bedside manner.”
Her wink is aggressive.
“If you say so.”
I just nod… still absorbing that I’d somehow missed the fact that there’s a full-on group chat, with everyone except me.
And that my luxury excursion was now officially the Booze Cruise from Hell.
But… if Luna’s okay with it, I can be too. And somehow, something that felt catastrophic yesterday no longer has the power to fit on my worry shelf.
By the time Luna’s well into this second styling session, the coffee—is it even really coffee without caffeine? —is mostly gone and I’ve put yesterday, all of it, behind me.
We chat idly about Mom and Babs, Tay’s growing discontent with her job, the cruise staff. Luna showed me the video she took of a rendition of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” that Denise, Josie, Mrs. Grady and Courtney apparently sang at karaoke after I left the other night.
“So, how are things going there, anyway? With… your future mother-in-law-ex-wife-situation?” I ask.
“Well.” She smiles. “I feel like Mrs. Grady is thawing out a little. Maybe. I mean, she has to, right? Oh, did you see Courtney sitting on Simon’s lap? In the karaoke bar?”
To be fair, half of us were on someone’s lap, from what I remember. But… “Isn’t Simon, like, Noah’s best friend?”
“Yeah, but there’s not…” She frowns. “I guess it would probably be a little weird.”
“Probably.”
“Anyway! You have to admit,” Luna says, grinning into the mirror, “Mom’s being kind of amazing this week.”
“She is,” I agree, smiling.
“I mean, everyone’s been pretty great.” Luna glances over at me, and something softens in her face.
“I’m so glad Beckett’s here. I almost thought, just with how busy he’s been lately—well, I worried that he might not make it.
This cruise, the wedding. It’s a lot for anyone, but we would’ve missed him.
And I think you would’ve missed him too.
” She drops her gaze down to her lap. The cape flutters a little, and I can picture her hands twisting together under there. “He’s… taking good care of you, right?”
My stomach does a funny little twist.
She’s so happy—stupidly, joyfully, wedding-week happy.
So I smile. “Very.”
She lowers her voice. “Even with the piercing?”
I frown. “How did—”
“Noah told me. I was mad, on your behalf, at first, since he can’t, well, you know, for like… for a long time. But it’s actually really sweet. Don’t you think?”
“Are they talking about that on the group chat?”
Luna doesn’t meet my eyes.
God. I can’t even begin to make sense of how messed up this is getting.
Last night flickers through me—hot and sharp.
Not just the way he touched me before… but later.
The steady sound of his footsteps returning to the suite just before dawn.
How I kept still, breathing slow, pretending to sleep—because I needed to believe he’d come back.
Because some part of me still does.
“So is he?” Luna asks again, nudging.
“We get creative.”
The truth is easier than another lie.
She’s still giggling, and I’m just shaking my head, when the stylist lifts the newly altered veil and gently places it over Luna’s hair.
Something about the moment—the hush that falls, the way the tulle floats like a blessing—stops me cold.
“Oh,” I breathe. “You look beautiful.”
Luna meets my eyes in the mirror. We both laugh. But we’re also both blinking furiously.
Because it’s real now. It’s happening.
My sister is getting married.
And I… I’m not sure what I’m doing.