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“What’s up?”
Oh, God. I hope nothing’s wrong between her and Ian!
Except it can’t be that, because he’s standing a few feet behind, talking to Martin who came off the boat just after I did. Ian is watching Savannah in the same hearts-in-his-eyes way he always does. Like he’s a cartoon character who just got hit upside the head with a two-by-four. So it can’t be that.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
She links her arm through mine and guides me across the wooden dock to the beach, leaning close to speak in hushed tones. “I don’t know how this happened. I swear I don’t. And I don’t know what Mom was thinking. She should have known better!”
“What is it?” I ask again.
Except now that we’ve reached the beach, her steps are slowing, possibly to match my pace, since she’s barefoot and my converse are making me sluggish in the sand. I pause to lean down and kick off my shoes. When I straighten with my tennis shoes in hand, I see that the rest of the wedding guests have exited the palapa to greet us.
I see Ian’s mom, his friends, Lily and Seb, a couple of Savannah’s friends from the restaurant, our mom and her current boyfriend and …
I turn to Savannah. “Trent? What is Trent doing here?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you!” She steps closer to me, lowering her voice even more, even though the crowd’s still far enough away that they probably can’t hear us. “Apparently mom ran into him the other day and they started talking. And I guess she didn’t know that you two used to be in a situationship. And she somehow invited him!”
Blood rushes from my head down into … I don’t even know where. It just leaves my head making me feel lightheaded and woozy.
“How on earth did mom accidentally invite your high school friend to your destination wedding? On a tiny island? How does that even happen?”
“I don’t know! She swears she didn’t mean for it to happen. And you know how fast talking Trent is.”
Oh. Do I ever.
I know exactly what Trent can be like.
“And that’s not the worst part.” Savannah is trying to force a smile, but it’s coming off as more of a panicked, tooth-baring, like she’s trying to scare off a predator.
That blood of mine that rushed away from my head is now pounding through my heart like a freight train.
“There’s a worse part?”
“We’re out of bungalows.”
“What do you mean, out of bungalows.”
“Well, we invited exactly the same number of guests as there were cabanas. So with Trent here…”
As she trails off, I scan the cluster of people waiting outside the palapa, mentally comparing it to my memory of the descriptions on the website. “And now there’s only one empty cabana. But now that Martin and I are here, there are two more people.”
“Exactly.” She says the word like she’s ordering an execution.
Which is not how my sister should be feeling about anything at her wedding.
Least of all something as fixable as this.
Does it suck balls that my ex somehow finagled his way to her wedding? Yes. But way better my ex than hers!
So, I do what any good sister would do. I shake off my dread and paste on a cheerful smile. “Hey, it’s no big deal! We’ll figure it out.”
“But—”
I turn her to face me and grip her by the arms. “You are here to get married. You are not here to worry about where the guests are sleeping. You should be walking hand in hand on the beach with Ian, sipping cocktails and looking gorgeous at sunset, or whatever it is people do at destination weddings.”
“But—”
