Chapter 45 Lost and Alone
LOST AND ALONE
ASHLEY
My bag. The Ziplock of soiled wipes. The towel. My wallet. My phone.
I scan the seat, the floor, the dash. It’s gone—left in the other cab. The one on its way to port with Beckett and the boys.
The car slows, pulling to a stop outside a squat concrete building with government signage that I don’t bother trying to translate.
“Oh no.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Panic surges. But—wait—in my pocket, I have some emergency cash.
I find the crumpled twenty, press it into the driver’s hand, thank him in shaky Spanglish, and climb out onto the hot pavement.
It’s fine. The office will have a phone that I can use to call Beckett. Another cab fare, but… Not the end of the world.
I square my shoulders, walk to the door, and reach for the handle—
Or maybe it is.
Because the door doesn’t budge. I try again, but… it’s locked.
There’s a small sign by the window. Horario de atención: Lunes a viernes. Cerrado sábado y domingo.
Closed Saturday and Sunday. Are you kidding me?
But of course they are closed on Saturday. Why hadn’t anyone realized today was a freaking Saturday?
But if I can’t get that paperwork—
If the registrar’s office is closed—
My heart stops.
That’s when the heat really hits me. The sun feels brutal now, like it’s pressing down on my shoulders, my chest. My stomach rolls. My vision blurs at the edges.
This was supposed to be a quick errand. Ten minutes. In and out.
Does this mean Luna and Noah can’t get married?
No! No! No! This isn’t happening. Not after all the planning, the travel, the dresses, the families, the unique anticipation leading up to what’s supposed to be their perfect day—
And I’m standing on a sizzling sidewalk in Ensenada with no phone, no wallet, no way to call for help.
The world tilts.
I press my hand to my stomach, trying to breathe, trying not to spiral.
I need… a phone.
I head in the direction that looks most promising, and after what’s probably only about twenty minutes—even though the heat makes it feel longer—a cluster of shops and cafés comes into view. Tourists. Shade. Civilization.
My legs wobble as I approach a tiny souvenir shop, where an older couple outside are kind enough to let me borrow a phone.
With shaky fingers, I key in Beckett’s number.
It rings three times, four times, five… then goes to voice mail.
“You’ve reached Beckett Carrington. I can’t answer my phone right now…
” I start to leave a message, but then it hits me—he said he lost his phone and had to get a new number.
One I haven’t bothered to memorize. But then if he’s been using the new burner phone…
why is the old one still working? Still ringing, still using his recorded message?
I just… I can’t think about this right now. Beckett’s phone is a no-go, and I don’t know anyone else’s number by heart—except for Mom’s landline.
I don’t even know the number to the darn ship.
As I hand the phone back, my heart’s pounding again.
I’m in Mexico. Alone. Miles from port. No phone. No ID. And I’ve officially exhausted my optimism.
Should I go to the police? Throw myself at their mercy?
Just when I’m about to give myself permission to panic, I hear it—my name.
“Ashley!”
I spin around.
Beckett is jogging toward me—my purse slung over his shoulder, my phone in his hand. He’s still wearing the shorts Blakey threw up on, a little out of breath, a little wrinkled, and he is, without question, the best damn sight I’ve seen all day.
Relief slams into me so hard I nearly cry.
“How did you—?”
“I looked up the address of the registrar’s office,” he says, breath a little uneven. “When I saw it was closed… I just thought—what direction would Ashley go?”
He shrugs, lifting my purse off his shoulder to hand it to me. “I guessed. Got lucky.”
It shouldn’t have worked.
But it did. He found me.
For a second, I just breathe.
Then my brain catches up.
“I just tried calling you,” I manage. “I used your old number, and it rang, like, a lot before it went to voicemail. Like it’s still charged. Did you… really just lose it somewhere?”
He stops short. “It was…” I see the indecision flash across his face. And then he brushes a hand through his hair.
“I can’t…” he mutters. “Ashley, I can’t get into that right now.”
My stomach turns.
“Are you in trouble?”
He glances away. His whole body goes tight. And then there it is, that flicker of… shame? “I’m… It’s… I… Later. I promise.”
I could push. I could get upset. But I’d already decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. So I meet his eyes.
“Did the company take it?” And the laptop too? That would make sense if he was getting fired.
“Not the company.”
But… Someone took it. And he knows who.
“You would tell me if you could, right?”
He nods.
And I… I believe him. And maybe that’s why this sudden stillness comes in, why all the anxiety I was feeling a few seconds ago just washes away.
“Okay,” I say.
He blinks, like he was expecting me to push—to give him ultimatums.
“Okay?”
I just nod. And then I glance up at the sky. “Oh gosh, it’s getting late, isn’t it.”
“Almost two. We should head straight to the winery—and then… The office was closed. What about the license?”
I shake my head, my heart sinking all over again. “I don’t know. Beckett—Luna and Noah… they can’t get married, then, can they? Not legally. I need to call her. How’s Blakey? Where are the boys?”
“They’re at the venue with your mom already, I imagine, along with all the stuff you said to bring. Blakey seems fully recovered, was totally looking forward to riding in the limo.”
Another car ride. I meet Beckett’s eyes. “I hope—”
“Your mom promised to bring a few barf bags.”
I let out a small laugh. At least the ship has plenty of those handy…
Then our eyes meet, for just a second.
“Come on, Beautiful.” he takes my hand. “I have a cab waiting down the street.”
And I go with him. Because I can’t not go with him. Because we’re in this together. For better, or… worse.
We climb into the waiting taxi—windows cranked down, no A/C, just a blast of hot air like a blow dryer to the face. I’m still clutching the phone Beckett brought me, trying to think of any way to avoid the call I know I have to make.
There’s no good excuse. No clever spin. She told me they had it handled, but I’m the big sister. I should have double-checked the details myself.
I stare at the screen, thumb hovering over Luna’s name—
But it lights up before I can hit it.
Luna.
I answer on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” She sounds relieved. “Oh my God, Ash. Are you okay? I’ve been trying to—”
“I couldn’t get the license.” I just blurt it out. “I’m so sorry, Luna. Today is Saturday. They’re closed! We didn’t plan for this. I didn’t think—”
“Ash.”
“We don’t have a license, Luna. There is no license!”
‘It’s okay.” She finally gets a word in. “I mean it. Don’t panic.”
“But Luna—”
“Noah and I.” I hear her let out a heavy sigh. “We got married two weeks ago.”
I blink. “What?”
“In Providence. Just us. I mean, I wanted today to be the real thing, but Noah suggested this back-up plan, you know? Just in case something like this happened. And this is still our wedding day, with everyone. It’s our heart ceremony. But legally, we’re already married.”
For a second, I can’t speak. Did she really just say she already got married?
Without me?
“We didn’t want to upset anyone,” she continues. “And it felt like the responsible thing. Please don’t tell anyone. I really don’t want to ruin this for everyone who came all this way for us.”
“I won’t,” I say automatically. Then I swallow. It was a smart plan. Really. But… “You got married without me?”
I stare out the window, blinking hard. First Beckett’s secrets, now this.
Only, this isn’t like that at all.
The sun outside is too bright. Or maybe it’s just me.
Noah and Luna just did what they had to do. And it was smart. I would’ve probably made the same call.
But it still hurts.
I feel… left out.
“Ashley,” Luna says gently. “It was... it was romantic, just me and Noah.” She pauses, then adds, “But... this wedding. It's for all of us... Don't be mad, please?” Her voice wobbles a little.
I press my fingers to my eyes, nodding, crying and laughing at the same time.
“I’m not mad.”
“Good. Because I’m not sure about the shoes we found, and now I’m contemplating walking down the aisle barefoot, and mom says the flowers are soaked. And I just… really need my big sister right now.”
That cracks something open inside me.
I nod again, even though she can’t see it. I’m okay with this. I really am.
“I’ll always be here for you,” I say. And I mean it. “You are not going down the aisle barefoot. Trust me. And tell Mom to have someone lay the flowers out on towels. Beckett and I will be there as soon as we can.”
Beckett and I…
Because I don’t have to do this alone.
Even if it means I’m the world’s biggest fool, I trust him.
I end the call and look over at my husband.
He shifts, just a little, and his fingers brush mine. “So… everything’s okay?”
I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through his. “I think so,” I whisper.
For now, at least, I get to breathe.