Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
LEXI
“The next one will be easier,” Jem assures me.
“I surely hope so,” I say, forcing my shoulders to relax. “But you breezed through it.”
“We’ve done this so many times, but you stressed about everything.” Jem looks around at almost all the staff gathered discreetly under the dining room awning, enjoying the live entertainment.
This wedding has been a challenge for me.
I’ve never orchestrated something so special and intimate on an island in the middle of nowhere before.
But now that I’m stepping back and seeing it all come together under Jem’s gentle hand, I can relax.
There were some tense moments in that office, but everything is perfect.
I could have gone for a tan on the beach yesterday, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
Deshni sidles up to me with a shy smile. “What do you think?” she asks.
“You and Sarika are amazing.” I squeeze her hand.
I saw the bride for her pre-ceremony photoshoot, and she looked striking after Deshni and Sarika’s hair and makeup.
The sisters’ talents are on full display with the entourage too, and those two women are worth their weight in gold, given everything they manage for the spa and for the bridal parties at this wedding destination.
The sun is setting, and the ceremony is finally about to begin.
Two more nights to go. After the wedding, some guests have a day of recovery before flying back to Europe.
Some are leaving tomorrow. This wedding party is a small group, more friends than family.
The various parents keep to themselves, but the bride and groom’s friends are a handful.
I’ve seen Tristan only in passing as he’s been busy with the diving and afternoon whale-shark outings they asked him to guide.
The guests are maxing their experience, and that’s totally understandable.
If I got an all-inclusive trip to a wedding on Ne’emba Island, I’d make the most of it too.
Enter the ever-generous Matthias de Foch, who is walking his sister down the aisle—on a Persian carpet no less.
Her flowing strapless dress flutters in the wind, catching against his leg and almost tripping him.
They laugh together, and it’s a sweet moment.
There’s no dad, and the mom isn’t exactly mingling.
There’s a story there, but after my first encounter with Matthias, he’s kept his distance. Thank God for Tristan.
I look over to where Roger has stepped up next to Deshni, his fingers brushing hers. Everybody else watches the bride and groom, and I’m probably the only one to notice how Roger and Deshni first withdraw from the line of staff and then disappear into the foliage.
They might not be destined to be together, which breaks my heart, but at least they’re making the most of the time they have. At the thought, I close my eyes and battle the knot in my throat.
Where is my fiancé exactly?
Tristan is probably working. It’s as if he’s on a countdown that has put its foot on the accelerator. At night he works on his TV series, whereas I am dead asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow. So many things to be grateful for right now.
Jem put us on the spot the other day when she said Tristan and I have looked like we had a tiff since we arrived.
Are we that awkward with each other? Surely not.
We’ve been trying to play our parts, but it’s becoming harder to believe there’s nothing more behind them.
I love his gestures of affection, even if they’re for show.
Even if they make my heart beat at an unhealthy rate, and even if they stoke that need in me that’s only been building since the night we scraped our past clean.
I mean, Tristan started this sexual thing between us with an invitation to shower with him on that morning that now feels like eons ago.
He might have been teasing, but surely if it’s just about sex for him, and it’s just about sex for me, there’s no harm, no foul?
I thought I made that clear when I said we’d be done when we say our goodbyes to Ne’emba.
I wipe a rogue tear that runs down my cheek. At least anybody watching me will think I’m moved by this intimate wedding.
That kiss…
I knew it would be like that—explosive. I can’t stop thinking about it.
We might have cleared the air, but as we did, we filled it with something worse: desire, need, and a wish for something I can never have.
I’ll always fantasize about being Tristan’s endgame, but he is the last guy on Earth to tie himself down.
An arm slips around my waist and pulls me back against a hard male chest. I close my eyes, the feel of him so familiar now, that fresh-shower smell when he comes from the dive center intoxicating.
“It looks amazing,” Tristan murmurs in my ear.
I wrap my arms over his as he hugs me close. “It does,” I whisper back, overly conscious of Jem and Mike, who are watching us as much as they’re watching the wedding proceedings.
“Well done.” Tristan’s lips tease my earlobe and chills break out over my skin, pebbling my nipples.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve done much except stress. Jem’s an old hand at this, and the team is fantastic.”
“Good to know.” Tristan makes as if to pull away, but I stop him with some pressure on his arms. “I need to go work on my—”
“I know. But stay for this; it’s the important part.”
“Lexi—”
“Sssshhhh…” Jem hisses, which is totally unnecessary. We are far enough away from the proceedings, and with the waves rushing up to shore, nobody can hear our whispers—nobody except Jem and Mike.
I close my eyes. I don’t need to hear the vows. Who doesn’t know them? From this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.
I can feel Tristan tense as the pastor’s voice carries toward us on the breeze.
The kiss-the-bride part follows, and finally I let Tristan pull away. Cheers rise from the guests, and Jem and Mike turn to us with smiles.
“That never gets old,” Mike says. “So when’s your big day?”
“I—”
“We—”
Tristan and I speak at the same time and then chuckle awkwardly.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” I tell them, trapped.
“Huh,” Jem huffs. “Couples had to be married in my day, but I suppose nowadays it’s hire first, fire later.”
What?
“Modern times,” Tristan says, putting a stop to the conversation. “I’ll see you later, babes.”
A last squeeze to my hip, and I watch him walk off, suddenly chilly in the cooler twilight air.
“What’s he going to work on now?” Jem asks. “Why doesn’t he stay for a glass of champagne? Don and Miriam never hesitated, you know, given that it’s the real stuff.”
“He’s probably tired,” I say, sidestepping the truth.
“Aren’t we all?” Jem’s tone raises not only my hackles, but also the fine hairs on my back.
That wasn’t a ghost passing: I would swear Jem is on to us, and I don’t know how the hell that happened.
What did she mean—hire first, fire later?
Is she going to send us packing if she stumbles on our secret?
Jem could be jerking my chain for the fun of it.
I don’t know her well enough to decipher that statement yet.