Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Every time I get a nice long look at this getup, I remember why I can’t complain.
“There!” Gran announces triumphantly, patting my hair and stepping back.
I touch the braids gently as I gaze at myself in the mirror.
Yep, the soft curls around my face will probably blow everywhere, but I have to admit the braids wrapped around my head feel like they’re built to withstand a tropical storm.
“You can even sleep on it—but don’t,” she says with a heavy tone that suggests she thinks that’s a distinct possibility.
I can’t muster the courage to deny it.
Really, there’s only one thing happening the second this dress comes off, and it will obliterate my pretty hair.
Nothing about our arrangement is traditional, but Brady agreed we’d abstain for an entire month to make our honeymoon more explosive than ever.
I mean, not abstain from everything. We don’t have the willpower for that.
Things got creative, let’s say.
Just not enough to satisfy the itch that can only be scratched by having him inside me.
I now know true suffering.
I’m so horny we might just leave the pins in and put Gran’s handiwork to the wildest test.
I rub my warm skin, almost wishing this dress had sleeves.
It’s off the shoulder and elegant, everything I could ever wish for in a wedding dress, but we’re basically almost in Canada, and it isn’t close to summer yet.
“Nervous?” Elle appears by my side.
“Excited. Just as long as nobody else knows we’re here.”
It wouldn’t be impossible, especially because we’re on a very short list of people who can afford to take a yacht this size out of Anacortes. Every gossipy mouth in Seattle and beyond would kill for an exclusive shoot of the Pruitts’ big day, even if they have to follow us on a whale-watching ship with high-powered cameras.
“Oh, hush. No one knows the date. I burned the wedding invitation,” Elle reminds me.
I snicker, because I know she really went that far.
“It’s the honeymoon you’ll have to worry about. Or just buck up and smile for the cameras. No creepers today, though,” she assures me. “This is your big day, and Brady’s. Enjoy it.”
“I love you.” I smile.
“Love you too, babe. Now go knock your man’s socks off.” She winks at me. “If I wasn’t already taken, I’d be so jealous.”
I snort. August is here, too, a hulking bear of a man who only ever seems to smile at his pretty new wife. He comes in from milling around outside a minute later.
I like to think he and Brady are becoming fast friends.
From the way Elle looks at him, one of the smaller islands around us could lift up into the sky, and if August was in front of her, she’d never know it.
It’s sweet, though.
Mom pokes her head through the door after grabbing a fresh cup of coffee. Her face breaks into a smile when she sees me fully transformed into a blushing bride.
Ugh, am I really blushing that much?
Sometimes, I forget how much she’s been through. But when I see her grinning, with her eyes all glassy, it reminds me of how little she’s smiled since Dad left.
It makes my heart hurt in the best way.
To think that I’m the reason for her lighting up like this again.
“Lena, oh my God!” She rushes up and grabs my shoulders, holding herself back like she’ll ruin me if she gets any closer.
“Mom, calm down. You saw me like five minutes ago.”
“But now you’re finished. You’re a bride.” She sniffles.
“No crying, Mrs. Joly. House rules,” Elle jokes. Then she and Granny Lark head outside with August to find their seats.
As you’d expect, it’s a tiny, private affair. Mom will walk me down the aisle with Elle trailing behind as my maid of honor.
“I love you. I love this,” Mom gushes, turning me so we’re both facing the mirror. “If your father could see you now . . .”
I smile grimly, refusing to let my eyes mist up.
This is a good day. Two generations of Joly women literally sailing into tomorrow.
“Are you happy?” she whispers, her eyes brimming.
“You know I am, Mom. If Dad could meet Brady, they’d be insta-buds. Brady would’ve loved his old radio-controlled planes, with the drone stuff he’s doing for his channel now,” I whisper back.
“I know, baby. You chose a good one.” She squeezes me. “Are you ready, though?”
“I’ve been ready since the first proposal. Um, sorry about that—keeping you in the dark. It happened so fast.” I watch her laugh and shake her head. “But he’s so perfect for me, Mom.”
“Yes. I knew something was going on when you wouldn’t bring the boy out to meet me until after the drama bomb exploded.”
“Something’s going on with you too.” I look up at her curiously. “You’re wearing a new perfume. What is that? Cherry?”
“No perfume, I—” She stops and closes her mouth, her face heating.