Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“Right.” I stare at the monstrous thing, convinced I deserve a visit from the FBI, ATF, and every other three-letter agency. “Thanks.”
Oliver leans forward to inspect it. “Not what I had in mind when I said I’d support your hobbies.”
“Would you like a demo?” Romeo adds a round ice cube to his whiskey. “We can have the whole cliff burned to a crisp by sundown.”
Thankfully, Agnes waltzes into the kitchen, saving the cliff. She balances a tray on either palm, piled high with sweets. “Dessert, honey?”
“No, thank you.” I help her set the trays down, pausing as she snatches up a small plate. “I don’t think I can eat any more. Oliver and I are going to Cooper’s tomorrow for round two of Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, Connecticut is lovely this time of year.” Agnes sets the plate she reserved in front of Oliver and squeezes his shoulder. “I made this one just for you.”
Then, she’s off in a blur of shimmery pearls and vintage Jean Patou. Oliver stares at the plate, silent as Farrow deals the cards to everyone. It’s sweet potato cupcakes. His favorite. Oh. Oh.
I crane toward him as he mumbles something almost indecipherable.
She hasn’t baked me my favorite dessert in fifteen years.
The words break my heart, but the cupcakes stitch it back together.
“Things are changing, Ollie. You’re not alone. This time …” I squeeze his hand under the table, close enough for only us to hear. “If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you.”
Oliver
One month later.
My brother is a bastard.
A sadistic, opportunistic troll in every sense of the word.
The vintage velvet suit he bought me rides up my ass, siphoning sweat from pores I didn’t know exist. Sebastian managed to convince my fiancée to follow through with the Barbie outfits, hence my general discomfort. Despite being knee-deep in December, it’s ninety degrees out and extra humid on the private island.
From my spot on the sand, I can feel Seb’s eyes pinned on me, soaking in the affair from a nearby lighthouse. Briar suggested we delay our honeymoon. Instead of rushing off to Sagres Point, we’ll spend a whole week here, so Sebastian can enjoy the island at night while everyone’s asleep. She always considers my brother in our plans, yet another reason to marry this woman ASAP.
Other than the wedding party, our tiny guestlist takes up four chairs – Mom, Melinda, Constance Sun, and Aunt Celeste. It’s for the best, considering how viral my proposal has become. On the plus side, at least everyone with functioning internet knows Briar is taken. Small mercies.
The violinist starts playing “Beauty and the Beast,” signaling the wedding party to march. Frankie struts down with Hazel, stopping at the furthest marks on the bridal side of the altar. Then, Romeo escorts Farrow, since Briar chose Dallas as her Maid of Honor. The song reaches a crescendo, triggering Zach and Dallas’ portion.
They trek down the aisle and take their spots closest to me at the center of the altar. Zach got the honors of being my best man, but only to stop him from bitching about me almost killing him in his cryochamber. It’s a good decision, since his giant head blocks my view of Briar tucked behind the rose arch. There’s no guessing what I’ll do the second I see her.
The music stalls. It’s almost time for my bride to walk down the aisle, and I’m so fucking amped up that I might keel over and hyperventilate my way into a heart attack. It would not even chart on the top ten list of embarrassing things I’ve done in front of Briar, but I’m certain our family would never let me hear the end of it.
Zach nudges my shoe with his toe. “You ever name this island?”
He’s trying to distract me, I think. It’s not really working, but I indulge him anyway.
“We’re thinking Naurua.”
Romeo snorts, turning his cheek so the videographer doesn’t catch it. “That has to be copyright infringement.”
I crane my neck, trying to get a glimpse of my future wife. “I can afford the lawsuit.”
Zach pinches his brows together, rubbing away his incredulity. “Is this the same guy who called marriage a cash-grab sequel?”
The violinist silences us by drawing her chinrest to her neck. The first notes of Dermot Kennedy’s “What Have I Done” wash over the beach. Rose storms her way down the aisle with Geezer, tossing fistfuls of blue roses behind her. They somersault and tumble in the wind before landing on the white sand. When she reaches where I stand at the end of the makeshift aisle, she pivots and climbs onto Melinda’s lap
Brian trudges down the aisle next, with Trio hopping beside him. They both sport matching bowties, sleek buzzcuts, and a level of anxiety more suitable for a high-stakes poker match. After a solid thirty seconds passes with only six steps from Brian, Trio snatches the ring box in his mouth and dashes to us, his three legs sinking in the sand.