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Brant grinned. “Sea Sprite tradition. Make a wish, and if you see the green flash on the horizon when the sun sets, it means your wish will come true.”
“Does it work?” I asked dubiously. Hell, at this point, I’d try anything for my happy ever after, even wishing on a green flash.
“It did for me.” He laid his hand on Karlie’s shoulder. She looked over at him and smiled, reaching her hand up to cover his.
Well. Okay, then. If Oscar could joke about manifesting me a horse in our last text convo and manage to deliver me one—literally—so soon after, why couldn’t I wish on the sunset? I knew exactly what I wanted to wish for.
Please, let me find the right guy. Let him appear right now…
As the sun dipped lower, I allowed myself to not just want it but to imagine it. Someone standing behind me, his arms wrapped tight around my chest, and his lips next to my ear. But when that imaginary someone whispered my name, he sounded way too much like Oscar.
I remembered then why I never let myself indulge in thoughts like this. Because it hurt to want something so badly when you knew you could never have it.
Like I always did when my feelings felt too big to contain, I picked up my camera. I ignored the setting sun and instead turned my back to the ocean, snapping photos of the guests as they gazed at the horizon, the last of the sun bright in their eyes. I ignored the green flash and instead focused on capturing the wonder on the faces of the partygoers when they saw it. The true love that filled the air around the happy couples who looked at their partners and knew their own wishes had already come true.
That was my job, after all.
I was so focused on taking pictures that I didn’t hear the motorboat approaching until I noticed one of the guests point toward the water. I swung my lens around to find a speedboat roaring out of the distance, the engine growing louder as it drew near. Once it reached the shallows, the motor cut off, and the driver allowed the resulting momentum to finish guiding them to shore.
I glanced up the beach to where security was stationed, wondering if perhaps the paparazzi had gotten word about the wedding weekend and were trying to crash it. But they looked unconcerned.
“The best man,” Brant snorted beside me. “Always loves to make an entrance.”
Just then, a familiar silhouette appeared on the bow, wearing loose linen pants rolled up to his calves and a white button-down shirt. I sucked in an unsteady breath, my heart hammering in my chest.
He waved at the crowd gathering on the beach and flashed a wide grin. “Sorry I’m late! Had a meeting I couldn’t miss, and the traffic was terrible.”
Roman cupped his hands around his mouth. “Show-off!”
Oscar laughed. He looked so beautiful and perfect in that moment, with his tanned skin and wind-tousled hair, the riot of colors from the sunset lighting the sky behind him. He was warm and vital and alive, right in front of me for the first time in months, but it felt like I was caught in a dream.
It was harder than it should have been to focus on lining up my shot, getting the lighting just right, and capturing the moment. Oscar’s eyes were alight with amusement, his smile wide and genuine, and for once, I didn’t want to simply observe him through the viewfinder. I wanted to be by his side.
The boat neared the edge of the surf, and Oscar crouched, ready to jump down to the beach. I shifted, trying to get a better angle for my photo. The movement must have snagged his attention because he glanced my way.
He started to look away but then did a double take. His eyes met mine and held. A frown of confusion furrowed his forehead, and his lips parted slightly.
A wave hit the side of the boat, causing it to roll. The sudden movement surprised Oscar, and he teetered for a moment on the edge of the bow before pitching overboard.
He landed in the shallow water with a very inelegant and ungraceful splash.
I shoved my camera at Brant and lunged toward the ocean. I was the closest, so I reached him first, but Oscar had already dragged himself upright, sputtering seawater. I grabbed his arms to steady him. “Are you okay?”
He was drenched, rivulets of water cutting across his sculpted cheekbones. “You’re… here,” he said simply.
I couldn’t find any words to reply.
For a small sliver of time, the world froze around us. My stomach flipped as memories from the night we spent together churned through my head. The way I’d tried to memorize the warm scent of him. How I’d trailed my lips down the center of his sleeping back before silently telling him goodbye and slipping out of the hotel room.
And here he was again, a mere breath away. Close enough to pull him toward me, to touch my mouth to his, to feel him against me?—
The moment was broken by Roman as he splashed toward us. “Nice of you to show up, Oscar,” he called, laughter in his voice. “Only you’d make an entrance like that.”
Oscar’s eyes lingered on mine a beat longer. His expression was unguarded yet impossible to read. Was he overjoyed to see me? Terrified that we were inadvertently breaking the rules when we’d already slipped so much this week? Too overwhelmed by desire to care? Or was it just me who felt like he’d stepped onto an unexpected emotional roller coaster?
Roman said something else, and Oscar blinked, shaking his head slightly as though coming awake after a long sleep. He planted a smile on his face and turned to the groom. “I couldn’t let a little traffic get in the way! Who’d give the best man speech if I weren’t here?”
“You’re the best man,” I said numbly.
