Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Anthony exhales a soft laugh as my eyes go wide. “Fabulous job. Keeping it very low stress.”
“Tuesday?” I ask, blinking as I glance between them. “Why the rush? You guys just got engaged. And I thought you were thinking about a winter wedding at that lodge in upstate New York?”
“Well, yes, we were but…” The smile that stretches across Maya’s face could light up the darkening beach. “But I’d rather get married before I start to show, and I’m sure my parents would prefer that too, so…”
“Oh my God!” I blurt out as the meaning of her words hits home. “You’re pregnant? Oh my God, congratulations!” I pull her in for a tight hug, her laughter stirring the hair already falling out of my updo.
“Thanks,” she says, laughing as we part. “We’re only two months along, but I swear I’ve already gained ten pounds. If we don’t do it soon, I won’t be able to fit into the dress I bought last week.”
“And most of the people we would want at the wedding are already here through Wednesday,” Anthony adds. “And my family is going to fly up on Sunday so…”
“So, we’d be honored if you’d officiate,” Maya says, capturing my hands and giving them a squeeze. “We’ve shared so much in our lives so far. It would be so special to share this, too.”
“Of course,” I say, my heart swelling with love and breaking into tiny pieces, all at the same time. I tighten my grip on her fingers. “Of course, honey. It would be an honor. We can talk tomorrow about what you’d like for the ceremony, and I’ll start working on it right away.” I motion to the chairs, refreshment tables, and other wedding accoutrements. “And we already have everything you need for a ceremony on the beach, so…”
“I know! It will be perfect.” She leans in to hug me again, gushing, “Oh, thank you, Elaina. Thank you.”
I close my eyes, a wave of bittersweet emotion tightening my chest. “My pleasure, love. Anything for my Maya Moo.”
Only she isn’t mine anymore.
I know we’ll always be close, but as I wander away down the beach half an hour later, after forcing myself to hit the dance floor with all the lovebirds, I’m plagued by the certainty that none of my friends will ever be mine the way they once were. Their husbands come first for them now, before their friends. And soon, Sydney and Maya will be starting their families.
I love babies—my own biological clock has been ticking like a time bomb for the past year and a half—but I know they leave very little time for anything else. I’m guessing soon even Zoom book club will be a thing of the past.
Everything is changing so fast.
Everything except my life, which seems to be stuck in a holding pattern, no matter how hard I try to move forward.
I’ve considered selling the café and moving closer to my friends—with Mom gone there’s not much left for me here—but I could never afford to live in New York City. I’ve run a successful business for years and am one hell of a baker, but bakers don’t get paid a living wage in the city, and I couldn’t afford to start a new business down there.
And without a college degree or other marketable skills, I’d likely be living close to the poverty line for the rest of my life. That’s the last thing Mom wanted for me, the last thing I want for myself. In Sea Breeze, I earn a comfortable living and have even been able to put money away for retirement someday.
A retirement I will likely spend alone, unless one of the girls loses her husband and decides to come back to Maine to be old ladies together, but I don’t want that for them. Besides, forty or fifty years from now, they’ll probably have children and grandchildren who need them more than their old friend, Elaina.
Hell, we might have lost touch completely by then.
The thought makes tears sting into my eyes. The darkening beach ahead is still swimming as I approach a bonfire at the edge of the sand, not far from the dock where Weaver and Sully stay on his yacht when they’re in town.
And there, perched on a fancy beach chair in a summer sweater and linen pants, looking like something from an Eddie Bauer catalogue with his shaggy, sun-kissed brown hair, sits Hunter Mendelssohn.
Hunter Mendelssohn, Anthony and Weaver’s friend, private equity billionaire, and all-around asshole.
Hunter Mendelssohn, who did wicked things to me for three days straight, practically moving into my apartment above the café—the better to be inside me every second he wasn’t closing deals and dismantling illegal fishing monopolies—only to leave without so much as a “see you later.”
And now, here he is, smug as you please, sipping a beer as he watches me approach like he’s been expecting me to wander up to his bonfire.