With This Fling (Summersweet Island 5)

Bodhi leans down and kisses her huge belly before popping back up and kissing her cheek, and the two of them walk away with their arms around each other. Until Tess finally rips the photo strip back out of Bodhi’s hand, pausing at their table to lean over and set the thing on fire with the candle flickering next to the centerpiece.

My whole family, even the lovely and difficult Tess, was able to get over their bullshit to find happiness and a happily ever after… so why can’t I?

The loneliness I haven’t felt since the moment Dean first set foot on this island threatens to overwhelm me all over again as I look around the room at my family, and I quickly take another sip of my wine.

When I was a little girl, I loved believing in fairy tales, because they seemed so magical and like happily ever afters could happen for everyone if they just believed hard enough. As an adult, I know now they’re not really magical, but they do still happen. I see it right in front of my eyes with all of my kids, and I see it every day that I spend with them. Fairy tales are real, and they happen… just not for me, and I’m so tired of it.

“You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

My eyes look away guiltily from where they searched out Dean, only to find him standing next to the bar, talking to Ed.

“Tell who what?”

Karen narrows her eyes at me. “Tell your fling that you’re falling in love with him.”

I choke on the sip of wine I was taking until Karen has to reach over and pat me on the back. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to hide anything from my best friend.

“If that’s true, I’m not thinking about that now. It’s my daughter’s wedding, and that’s all I’m thinking about,” I remind her, grabbing a napkin from the table and wiping off the wine that leaked out of my mouth.

“Except her wedding will be over in about five minutes, so what’s your next excuse going to be?” Karen asks, my eyes making their way over to Dean again no matter how hard I try to look anywhere else.

I haven’t had hardly any time to spend with him tonight, and as much as I didn’t want it to, it really sucked. I got pulled in a hundred different directions from going back and forth with the catering staff, the bartenders, and the DJ to make sure everything ran smoothly, to chatting with guests all night. I had to thank relatives for coming out to the island for the day and spend some time catching up with them, as well as meet some of Palmer’s people for the first time, not wanting to be rude as they eagerly struck up conversations.

But all through the night, Dean was always close by, quietly taking care of me without any fuss. He silently slipped up next to me while I was talking to Birdie’s boss, exchanging the empty wine glass in my hand with a full one without interrupting our conversation. He brought my plate of food over to the table I’d gotten stuck at, talking with one of my cousins, while dinner was being served, setting my plate down in front of me and then walking back to our table without a word, so I wouldn’t forget to eat. When I was out on the deck after dinner, chatting with the officiant, and started rubbing my arms when the ocean breeze gave me a chill, Dean showed up out of nowhere, draping his suit coat over my shoulders before disappearing back inside. Little things here and there all evening, anticipating my needs, taking care of me, and making it harder and harder to continue not feeling anything tonight.

“I begged someone else to stay once, and we both know how that turned out,” I remind Karen, turning around in my seat to face the table, my hands picking up a napkin with Birdie and Palmer’s names printed on it with the wedding date and shredding it into little pieces as I continue. “And I know that shouldn’t still bother me thirty years later, but it does. I begged, and I begged for four years, and I still wasn’t enough to make him stay. I thought it would break me apart until I realized he wasn’t worth my tears or my time. If I asked Dean to stay, and he said no….”

I can’t even finish the sentence when all I can see each time I close my eyes is Dean shaking his head and then walking away from me. After four years with Alex, it hurt like hell when he left. But after only eight days with Dean, a sharp stab of agony hits me right in the chest, shattering me before he’s even gone.

“Can we please stop talking about this now? I just want to enjoy the remainder of this reception and not think about anything.”

“Fine.” Karen shrugs. “For now. But there will be a Sip and Bitch in the near future, and you will talk about all of it.”

Reaching for my wine again, even though there’s a nauseous pit in my stomach that won’t go away, I drain the rest of my glass.

“You good, or do you need another one?”

Wondering if Dean has the same homing beacon for me that Tess has for Bodhi, I turn my head and look up at him standing next to my chair, nodding toward my empty glass, appearing out of nowhere because he thought I might need something.

I’m not good at all. I just need you to stay.

“Nope. I’m fine, thank you.” I smile up at him. “But I’ll probably need some help loading up all the wedding gifts and taking them home when this is over, if you don’t mind lending a hand.”

My stomach flip-flops when his face lights up with a grin, like I just told him he won the lottery. Before I can ask him why he’s so happy I’m putting him to work after this long day, the DJ’s voice comes over the sound system.

“Before I play the last song of the evening, the groom would like everyone to know the last tee time will be happening at the bar now!”

“Fuck yeah, it’s tee time!” Bodhi shouts from the other side of the room with his hands thrown up in the air, while I groan.

Our family has a long-standing tradition at weddings called tee time that started God knows how many years ago with a great-grandfather who was obsessed with golf. The band or the DJ will announce when it’s tee time, and then the bridal party and anyone who wants to join them goes up to the bar, and they all share a toast with a shot of whiskey. It starts off at every wedding reception by happening every half hour. Until everyone starts getting hammered and forgetting how long ago they last did a shot, and tee time is suddenly being announced every five minutes. The fact that the current tee time is happening in the restaurant named Tee Time has just made everyone more excited and cheer even louder every time the DJ makes the announcement.

“Is it my turn to keep Bodhi away from the bar, or yours?” Karen asks.

“Remind me again why Bodhi isn’t allowed to participate in tee time?” Dean prompts.

“He’s been banned from mixing weed with whiskey ever since the time he stole a truck full of goats and woke up in a field in Michigan,” I explain.

“Why would Bodhi steal a truck full of goats?”