Chương 9
The weather had turned colder.
Wind pushed loose hair across faces and snapped the reserve flags above the dock.
Marcus Vance arrived without an entourage.
He wore a navy suit and carried his own small bag.
When he saw Sterling, he hugged him.
Then he turned to me.
“Elena.”
“Marcus.”
“Your mother called me.”
“I heard.”
“She has impressive persistence.”
“That is a diplomatic description.”
“I’ve had practice.”
He smiled, then glanced toward the boarding area.
“Beautiful operation.”
“That is also diplomatic.”
“No.”
He pointed toward Leah, who was confiscating a guest’s decorative balloon arrangement.
“That is beautiful.”
I laughed.
For the first time that morning, I stopped thinking about who was missing.
At ten forty-five, Leah came toward us quickly.
Her expression had changed.
“Problem.”
Sterling straightened.
“What?”
“Boat two has a mechanical fault.”
I looked at the boarding line.
Thirty-seven guests were assigned to it.
“Can they move to the others?”
“Not all of them.”
“How many get stranded?”
“Twenty-three.”
My stomach dropped.
Sterling was already reaching for his phone.
“Backup charter?”
“Forty-five minutes out if they accept.”
“We don’t have forty-five minutes.”
“I know.”
The wind hit the terminal doors hard enough to rattle the glass.
Our carefully revised schedule had just become useless again.
Leah looked at me.
“We can delay the ceremony, but we cannot delay departure from the island.”
The old instinct rose immediately.
Fix it for everyone.
Absorb the inconvenience.
Make sure no one could accuse me of being difficult.
I looked at the guest list in Leah’s hand.
Then at Sterling.
“What if we leave without them?”
He blinked.
I heard myself continue.
“Not abandon them.”
“I was hoping.”
“We put immediate family, officiant, essential staff, and anyone with accessibility needs on the first boats.”
“And everyone else?”
“They stay here.”
Leah frowned.
“For the ceremony?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the terminal windows, the steel benches, the coffee station, the reserve map mounted on the wall.
“We stream it privately from the island to the terminal.”
Sterling stared at me for a second.
Then his mouth curved.
“You hate livestreams.”
“I hate sponsored livestreams.”
“That distinction is doing a lot of work.”
“It’s our wedding.”
The words came out before I could think about them.
Our wedding.
Not the estate.
Not the island.
Not the guest list.
Not the sunset.
Sterling reached for my hand.
“Okay.”
Leah was already moving.
“I can make that work.”
Twenty minutes later, the passenger list had changed again.
Some guests complained.
A few volunteered to stay.
Marcus Vance was one of them.
“You have priority,” I told him.
“I’m aware.”
“Then why are you sitting down?”
He removed his coat and folded it beside him on the steel bench.
“Because your aunt threatened a man with a cane when she thought she might lose her seat.”
I looked across the terminal.
Rosa was indeed guarding a boarding pass.
Marcus nodded toward her.
“I know when I’m outmatched.”
I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
At eleven eighteen, Sterling and I boarded the first boat.
The wind carried salt across the deck.
As the terminal pulled away behind us, I could see the guests remaining inside gather around the windows.
Some waved.
I waved back.
Then my phone buzzed one last time before the signal weakened.
It was Patricia.
No accusation this time.
No demand.
Only a photograph.
Savannah stood beneath the cypress trees at the coastal estate wearing a plain silk dress.
Trevor stood beside her.
There were no sponsor walls, no branded arches, and no photographers crowding the aisle.
Patricia had typed one sentence beneath it.
She looks happy.
I stared at the picture until the screen dimmed.
Then I put the phone away.
Sterling stepped beside me.
“Everything okay?”
I looked toward the island emerging through the fog ahead.
“For now.”
He took my hand.
Neither of us said anything else as the boat crossed into open water.
The crossing took twenty-six minutes, though the wind made it feel longer.
The boat climbed over swells that slapped hard against the hull, and everyone who had claimed not to get seasick became very interested in the horizon.
Aunt Rosa sat inside with both hands wrapped around a paper cup and announced to no one in particular that she had survived childbirth, jury duty, and one disastrous cruise to Ensenada, so she refused to be defeated by a wedding.
The officiant beside her turned slightly green.
Sterling stayed near the stern with Leah, watching the weather.
I stood alone for a while.
The sanctuary appeared gradually through the fog, first as a dark shape, then as cliffs, wind-bent cypress, and the narrow dock tucked into a protected inlet.
I had been there before.
Still, arriving in wedding clothes made it unfamiliar.
People on the dock waved as we approached.
Reserve staff had set up a temporary canopy, handrails along the wet section of the path, and small wooden signs directing guests toward the ceremony meadow.
Nothing matched the pictures I had carried in my head for two years.
That hurt less than I expected.
When the boat bumped against the dock, Sterling looked at me.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Same.”
He stepped off first and held out his hand.
I took it.
The wind nearly tore the scarf from my neck before both of my feet reached land.
Rosa shouted, “Excellent omen.”
“Thank you, Aunt Rosa.”
“You’re welcome.”
The island smelled of salt, damp grass, and something green I could never identify.
Above the inlet, cypress branches moved constantly.
Farther west, waves broke white against black rock.
No one had tried to make the place prettier than it already was.
The floral collective had arranged low bowls of coastal buckwheat, yarrow, native roses, and silvery sage along the tables.
The culinary team worked from a temporary field kitchen behind a screen of canvas.
May you like
When their director, Marisol, saw me, she came over in an apron and hugged me hard enough to wrinkle my blouse.
“You changed the time three times.”
