A girl of about three followed the sombre toddler. She skipped down the row, flinging handfuls of blush and cream rose petals from her basket, her dark ringlets flying as she hurtled toward the altar, coaxing a few indulgent smiles and light laughter from the onlookers.
“She's adorable!” Luci whispered.
A familiar classical tune I couldn’t place accompanied the bridesmaids as they marched down the aisle. I peeked at my ex-boyfriend, doing my best to keep that teeny space between us. Jake the dad. Sarina’s dad. The single dad. Sexy single dad. We’d almost had sex. Another thirty seconds on his bed … Nope. He’s just Jake, the ex-boyfriend I’d run from—more than once. The one beside me, ignoring me, when all I wanted to do was …
Luciana nudged my shoulder.
Crap. Lusting after the man while his little sister sat right beside me? I swept the back of my finger across my lips, searching for any signs of drool.
Luci’s eyes widened, and her chin jutted toward the aisle at the melancholy opening notes of Pachelbel “Canon in D” flowing from the string quartet.
The bride, the actual reason we were squished together on this narrow wooden bench, was now gliding toward the altar, flanked by her beaming parents. Spots danced in my field of vision as I wobbled to my feet to join the forest of people craning their heads. I swallowed hard to quell my nausea, clutching at the pew in front of me. An arm snaked around my waist, steadying me.
“Okay?” Jake’s low voice sent a shiver through me and goosebumps popped up on my arms. “You need water?”
My vision cleared as I shook my head, and he moved his arm to his side. I swayed toward him, then straightened. Leaning into him wasn’t allowed. Not now. Especially not after last night. I angled toward the aisle and focussed on Dara, who was now stepping up to join Dean. Today, living her dream, a vision of joyful perfection in her embellished princess-style wedding gown.
We all sat as the ceremony began, the minister’s voice soaring above the guests.
I sneaked another look at the man beside me, shifting and tensing my thigh. Dangerous Jake. Jake the daddy. Rule number one; don’t expose your ravaged heart. Rule number two; don’t mess with the widower, especially the elusive single dad version. “Ouch,” I mumbled, rubbing my ribs, which now ached from the sharp jab from Luci’s elbow.
She leaned in and whispered, “Quit fidgeting.” Her pointed look and motion toward the altar tuned me Dean’s deep tones as he recited his vows.
“Dara, my sun, my moon, my life …”
I pressed a hand to my chest, blinking hard and sniffling. It took a strong man to stand in front of three hundred wedding guests and, with no hint of embarrassment or irony, tell the entire world exactly how he felt about the wonderful woman sharing the altar.
Dara’s adamance that she’d never marry a man who didn’t have the words to express his love was paying off. “I want a man who tells me he loves me, a man who isn’t scared to share his feelings, with me, with our family, or with his friends.” My dear friend had found her ultimate treasure by marrying Dean.
The small movements to the left caught my eye.
Jake sat with his head bowed, rubbing his hands against his thighs, that damn ring on his finger taunting me. His eyes were closed, the wrinkle in his brow the tell-tale sign.
Without a second thought, I reached out and rested my hand on top of his, entwining our fingers and squeezing, a memory flitting into my mind of a tiny dock not far from Peggy’s Cove. We’d spent the day paddling in Prospect Bay—the first of one of our numerous kayaking adventures—afterward dangling our feet in the water, my nose wrinkling at the salty, slightly fishy tang lingering on the late fall breeze.
That day, as he told me about his family and how his father left when he was thirteen, his sister barely eight, a similar look had appeared, only clearing when he spoke of his mom. The courageous woman had made the best of their situation, working full-time, yet still doting on her two children, taking them on long adventures exploring the wild Maritime coastlines. They’d hiked, explored tidal pools, and she’d fostered a love of the ocean, especially in her young son. It was no surprise he chose to study marine biology and spend most of his time on the ocean.
That same love of everything to do with water had given birth to my nickname. “Mah-ray,” he’d said. “My sea. Every bit as intriguing and wholly unpredictable, beautiful, and full of wonders yet to explore.”
It could have been the worst pick up line ever, but something about the look in his eyes spun a spell, turning me into putty. After our first night together, we were inseparable.
Jake twitched, but he didn’t pull away from me, so we remained with our hands linked until the string quartet took up the strains of “A Sky Full of Stars.”
Then he stood, pulling away and flexing his fingers as the wedding party exited amid a flurry of snapping camera shutters and bright flashes, the eager guests capturing the happy couple in their newly wedded bliss.
Did he remember our first night together? Did he even care?
“The reception doesn’t start until six,” Luciana said as we emerged from the church, trailing close behind Jake. “We should grab a coffee and catch up. Coming, big brother?”
“You two go ahead. I should check with Tía and make sure Sari is okay.” Jake waved and strode in the direction of the hotel.
“He worries too much, but it’s natural, I suppose. It’s the first time he’s
