Page 64 of Secrets on Ice

"Okay, the goalie," Cassidy says, tilting her head. "I take back every joke I've ever made about him. The man is built like a Viking longship, and I wonder if he has a longship," she jokes.

"Cass!"

"What? I'm just saying if he wasn't basically a Labrador, I'd be having thoughts."

"He’s sweet. Sometimes the sweetest ones can also be the kinkiest,” Violetta adds, which lights up Cass’ face.

Pierre and Felix come up one after the other, and it's honestly unfair that one family got all of that. Married and taken, respectively, and both looking like the reason romance novels have covers. Then my brother hauls himself out next. Fish climbs out after Emmett, taking a bow like the whole bay was watching, and I realize there's only one of them left in the water.

Sully is the last one in the water, and he doesn't hurry. He swims in slowly, plants both hands on the platform, and lifts himself out of the ocean in one long pull.

And my brain just stops.

Water sheets off his shoulders and runs down his back, every muscle in it working, and he's big in a way I've somehow never let myself register. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a defenseman's body built from years of hitting people, standing on a swim platform in the Maine sun like it's nothing. My drink stops halfway to my lips and stays there. I have known this man most of my life. I've seen him in swim shorts a thousand times, at lakes and pools over the years. But the last time I touched him we were teens, and the man standing on that platform is not a boy anymore.

"Gold star," Violetta murmurs beside me, appreciatively, to no one in particular.

15

EMBER

The first time I see Fish and Collette's house, I stop walking. It's set high on a rocky outcrop above the Atlantic, white, weathered, and perfect, with ocean views from what has to be every room, and hydrangeas rioting across the whole garden, blue and white, the exact colors of the wedding. Of course they are. I remember her telling us she saw the garden and built the day around it. I would have done the same thing. It is stunning.

"Em," Cassidy says quietly beside me. "The house."

"I know."

We stand there on the lawn having an entire conversation with our eyebrows. The bones of it, the light, the widow's walk. It sits up here like it grew straight out of the rocks. My fingers are itching for a sketchbook, and by the look on Cassidy's face, hers are too.

"Not today," I murmur.

"Obviously not today. She's getting married."

"But someday, we can help someone decorate a house like this.”

“Yes, Sullivan Black Designs to the rescue,” Cassidy agrees, and we file into the rows of white chairs on the bluff. I take a look around us, white and baby blue linen, LED candles in hurricane glasses, hydrangeas spilling off every surface, and beyond it, all the Atlantic, endless and blue, crashing against the rocks below. Camryn and Kimberly have outdone themselves. I take my seat between Cassidy and Sully, with Bouch and Nelly on the end. The afternoon sun is warm and golden, everything is beautiful, and my chest already hurts.

At the front, Fish is in position on the edge of the bluff with the whole Atlantic behind him, navy suit, white shirt, open collar. He keeps rolling his shoulders and checking down the aisle. His groomsmen are lined up beside him. Evan is closest as his best man, hands clasped, face giving absolutely nothing. Ledger, his cousin, is beside them, massive enough to block the ocean view, grinning happily. Then Archer, his sister’s husband, standing tall and soldier-straight in his suit. My brother next to him, solid and steady, then Pierre and Felix in their matching suits.

"Fish looks like he's going to pass out," Cassidy whispers.

"It’s not like they aren’t already married,” I whisper.

“He looks so happy.”

“He does,” I agree.

Then the bridal music starts, and Brady, Fish’s nephew, comes down the aisle first, a four-year-old in a tiny suit, clutching the ring pillow with both hands like it's the nuclear codes, marching with military precision like his father. Halfway down, he spots Fish and breaks into a run, nearly tripping over his own feet, and the whole bluff laughs as Fish crouches and scoops him up before Lorraine, Fish’s mom, gathers him onto her lap.

"Uncle Justin!" Brady announces from her arms, waving, and the crowd laughs again.

Then comes Brooke, his sister, dabbing her eyes before she's even reached the end. Then Violetta, Evelina, Isabelle, and Harper, who is heavily pregnant and already losing the battle with her tears. And lastly Jo, walking slowly with her bouquet of hydrangeas, taking her place at the front.

The music changes again, and Collette appears on the back porch on Claire's arm. The entire bluff rises as Fish starts crying before she's taken three steps. She's a vision in an ivory ballgown, a cathedral veil with his jersey number embroidered into it, and the man cannot hold himself together at the sight of her.

It’s such a beautiful moment, and I dab at my eyes because I remember this. I remember standing at the top of an aisle, my arm through my mother's, looking down at a man waiting for me, believing with my entire body that I was walking toward the rest of my life. I remember him smiling and meaning every single word he said that day. How wrong was I. He meant none of it. He stood there in front of both our families and made promises with my best friend's husband three feet away, and the two of them had already been each other's for years. Cassidy reaches out and squeezes my hand, the same thoughts probably racing through her mind too.

The officiant begins, and Fish and Collette hold hands and stare at each other like the rest of us aren't here. Their vows are personal and funny and devastating, all the things vows are supposed to be, and I sit very still in the fourth row and concentrate on breathing. Cassidy's hand stays in mine throughout the whole ceremony.