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In a haze, her thoughts drifted to Rhiannon and her bright smile that rivaled the cloudless afternoon. Her laughter filled Carmela’s chest with heat. There was no doubt their little relationship theater was a ruse, but it was so natural Carmela often found herself caught up in the moment. Her racing heart and fluttering stomach weren’t part of the act.
This wouldn’t have been bearable without her, she acknowledged to herself. Selling the house wouldn’t have happened either.
Carmela put down the hairdryer and glanced at the closed door of her bedroom. Could Rhiannon really be the source of the unusual peace she’d been feeling for days? The reason why what should have been a living nightmare was developing into the best few days Carmela could remember?
It wasn’t a real question. She already knew it was true.
With a pounding heart making her head light and her thoughts muddled, Carmela tightened the complimentary terrycloth robe around her naked body and took tentative steps toward the door. What would Rhiannon do if she barged into the bathroom and told her she wanted to try this with her for real?
Her mouth went dry as she wrapped her fingers around the glass knob. Could she really stand to risk devastation again? After the breakup with Jackie, she thought her heart had been razed. Nothing but scorched Earth unable to sustain new life. And yet she was alive with feelings.
Carmela swallowed hard. Rhiannon is not Jackie. She opened the bedroom door before she could talk herself out of it but was disappointed to find the bathroom closed. Some
part of her had hoped Rhiannon had somehow sensed the crack in her barrier and maul her. No such luck.
Trembling, Carmela pushed down all the fears and doubts and trudged toward the bathroom like she was waist deep in mud. Unable to form a single coherent thought, Carmela had no idea what she was going to say as her knuckles hovered over the door.
In her hesitation, Carmela lowered her hand and tucked it into her pocket. This is ridiculous. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in the adventure of their pretend romance.
Indulging in this fling would be disastrous. Carmela shook her head and took a step backward. The risk was too great.
After finishing her simple makeup and slipping into a mid-length, loose, sage-colored dress, Carmela sat cross-legged on the couch and checked her messages. It was getting harder to balance work and the trip when she preferred to spend her time with Rhiannon instead of solving other people’s problems. Liz always told her she babied her clients too much, and the trip was starting to show her how right she was. Much to her chagrin, Liz was proving right about a lot of things.
When Rhiannon finally emerged from the bathroom, she’d intended to make a joke about her having fallen into the toilet but was rendered speechless by her appearance.
Standing in a short, tight, violet dress, with her long hair in a slicked back ponytail and impressively applied makeup, Rhiannon was literally stunning.
“You look incredible,” Carmela said when she managed to regain her senses.
As Carmela stood and sauntered slowly toward her, she knew she was gawking but couldn’t stop. Rhiannon’s response was a flushed chest exposed by the plunging neckline.
“Thanks. I used a makeup tutorial.” Rhiannon smiled.
“You look pretty amazing yourself,” she said, reaching for Carmela’s hand and tugging her close. “Although I must say, it is pretty rude of you,” she added in a whisper as she stared at Carmela’s nude lips, “no one is going to be looking at the brides.”
Carmela smiled as her heart thumped wildly in her chest.
Lost in Rhiannon’s half-lidded gaze, numbness crept up from her toes until she lost all feeling in her lower limbs. It was like being carried away in a slow-moving hot air balloon and couldn’t find the will to care as she lost sight of the land below.
“Ready to put Jackie to shame?” Rhiannon asked, tugging on the string keeping Carmela tethered to Earth.
Carmela willfully basked in the sensation of being lost at sea. “Who?”
In her silent reply, Rhiannon’s dimple rippled in her smooth skin.
When they emerged from their cottage, Carmela and Rhiannon weren’t alone. A dozen others in suits and dresses were piling into the golf carts waiting to transport them to the beach. They were Dickensian street urchins compared to Rhiannon.
As they approached the sand, an impressive archway made of driftwood and white cloth loomed ahead. The aisle breaking up the two sets of chairs was created by a long piece of white fabric lined with big exotic plants buried in the sand. Surrounding the ceremony space carved out of empty beach, there were enough lit torches to make a fire marshal hyperventilate.
Tightening her grip on Carmela’s hand after pulling o their shoes to feel the warm sand between their toes, Rhiannon leaned forward. “Do you think they spent a small fortune at Pier One?”
Carmela let out a bark of laughter, drawing the attention of half the guests already seated in front of the shipwreck disguised as a wedding altar. The way their heads snapped and swiveled made it seem like she’d cursed in church.
Without apologizing, Carmela followed Rhiannon to the middle of an empty row of chairs near the back. In the whipping wind, Carmela envied the solid nature of Rhiannon’s ponytail.
Her eyes were fixed on the frazzled wedding planner pressing an earpiece in her ear like a 1990s pop diva when Rhiannon rested her arm across Carmela’s lap and whispered against the shell of her ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Surprised to find worry in Rhiannon’s eyes, she furrowed her brow. She didn’t expect to be okay waiting for her ex to marry someone else. . . she probably shouldn’t be okay.
