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and Carina have either a spouse or significant other.”
I was nodding as I led her to the truck Tim had rented for us.
We were meeting the crew in a bar at the beach. Then going for an evening cruise on the coastline.
I’d been told that the boat ride also had free beer. Well, free if you didn’t count the two-hundred-dollar ticket that you had to purchase to ride on the boat in the first place.
Like everything that we’d noticed over the last few days of being in the busy gulf coast town of
Destin, Florida, it took a long time to get anywhere. Everybody and their brother was out trying to do the exact same thing we were. Meaning it took us thirty minutes to drive eight miles when it should’ve taken us no less than ten.
“I like it here,” Frankie said softly. “I think a beach wedding would be so cool.”
I looked over to see her staring at a bride that was walking down the long length of a beach. Her
groom waited on her to arrive with a massive smile on his face that would’ve lit up a room.
“It would.” I found myself agreeing. “What would be cooler is if he found a wedding ring in the
ocean and proposed while he was here. Then thought, fuck it, let’s get married.”
She turned her eyes to me and stared. And I realized that I’d revealed too much in my musings.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you still want to get married, Luca?” she asked as she twirled the ring around her finger
nervously.
Previously, where that ring would’ve once pissed me off to see, I only saw possession there now.
She was mine. Mine, mine, mine.
A car honked behind me and I turned my face forward to see that the light was green. Gently
accelerating, I wondered how I should answer her question.
Did I want to get married to her still? Hell yes. The idea of her carrying my name felt right.
“Yes,” I said. “But…”
She gasped and I looked forward once again to see a small Honda Civic whip into my lane.
I had to slam on my brakes and do some evasive maneuvering to keep from hitting him.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. Her hand stayed on her heart for a long while. “I think that’s one of my friends.”
“Hopefully your friends are better doctors than they are drivers,” I muttered. “Jesus Christ.”
She was right, too. When we got to the restaurant that we were meeting at, the Civic whipped into
a spot that was two down from the one that I took.
When we got out, two blondes poured out of the Civic.
When Frankie rounded the backside of the truck, they spotted her and headed our way.
“Frankie!” blonde number one cried. “You made it!”
