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“I’m already hitched,” Elisa pointed out with a laugh. “And am now up the duff.”
Zeta blinked. “Up the what?”
Elisa laughed, running her palms over her belly. “Up the duff. Pregnant.”
Zeta rolled her eyes. “This is what happens when you marry an Australian. You start speaking gibberish.”
Tilly cleared her throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this sisterly moment, ladies, but Bria?” She gave Bria a grin. “Mick has Owen almost convinced you’re going to realise you’re actually marrying him today and decide that’s a really bad idea, and take off back to the States so…”
Bria burst out laughing. “Of course he is.”
Zeta ground her teeth. Mick. Owen’s brother.
She’d only met him once at Bria’s and Owen’s engagement party a few months ago, but once was once enough. ER Doctor. Opinionated. Far too impressed with himself. Way too good-looking for his own, well, good. And unfortunately, her partner in the bridal party.
The only irritation of the day.
But still, for Bria, she’d grin and bear the annoying, arrogant pain in the ass.
For Bria.
Even if he had called her—
“Scusi, Matilda,” a male voice uttered behind Tilly, and a towering man with steel grey hair, ice-blue eyes, and a glorious moustache appeared in the doorframe, his smile wide. “Mie belle ragazze, tutti stanno aspettando.”
“We’re coming, Papà,” Bria said, turning from the mirror. She held out her arms. “Do you like?”
Their father entered, dropping his customary kiss on the tops of all their heads, before mimicking Bria’s pose. The dark-grey tux he wore looked perfect, especially with the pants rolled up to just below his knees. “I like very much, mia figlia. You are more than beautiful.” He crooked his elbow. “Now let’s go, before your future husband thinks you’re not coming. His brother has him convinced you’re running off with some mysterious skydiver you met last week.”
Bria laughed, hooking her finger over his biceps. “I’m going to kill Mick.”
Zeta rolled her eyes. Mick. What a pain in the ass. Perhaps she might accidently kick him in the shins during the bridal waltz?
She’d thought about wiping that smug grin off his face more than once since meeting him. In fact, he’d kept popping into her mind often, ruining her day, making her grumpy. Making her wish she could see him again so she could prove to him just how insignificant and inconsequential he was.
Tilly snorted. “Everyone wants to kill Mick at some point. It’s his superpower. That and the fact he’s so damn loveable when he wants to be.” She wrapped her knuckles on the doorframe. “Ready?”
Bria nodded. “Ready.”
“Shit,” Zeta burst out. Pain in the ass Mick had almost made her forget what was about to happen. “Wait.”
Everyone stopped and looked at her.
She pulled a face at them and toed off the sneakers she’d pulled on way back at seven a.m. to go to the resort’s hairdressers. “Sorry. Wrong shoes.”
Hurrying to the bag of supplies and other wedding paraphernalia she’d dumped on the bed on arriving at the beachside resort, she dug around in it and yanked out what she needed.
Gold rubber flip-flops, complete with gold glitter on the straps. “Got ‘em. Sorry.”
Grinning, she dropped them to the floor and shoved her feet into them. You had to love Bria. Getting married on a beach really made for far more comfortable footwear.
***
“I’m gonna kill you, Mick,” Owen muttered under his breath, tugging at his tie.
“Your fault, big brother.” Mick tried to keep his grin under control. The celebrant was scowling at them both, the gentle coastal breeze flapping the old guy’s combover about in a way that made Mick want to laugh. Behind him, the pristine beach and surf connect to the remote luxury resort where Owen and Bria were getting married stretched on forever. “You’ll think twice about beating me in poker again.”
“But bright pink?” Owen shot a look at his feet, currently buried almost to the ankles in the beach’s cool, white sand. “Really? Bright pink? On my wedding day?”
