Page 82 of Under Pressure

“I don’t get it either,” Mack assured him.

“Is she pretty?”

Sean dropped the shift into full gear at that, not waiting to hear what else was being said. Blue was pretty. She was also creative, sarcastic, addicted to soda, full of spice and on a special day full of giggles, and, most importantly good for him. She always had been. He just hoped he’d would be good enough for her or the rest of his life would be one dark sky after another.

18

Chapter 18

Blue

If everything had lined up perfectly for Blue to get married yesterday, today everything fell apart. First, she spotted an orange chip stain on the train of her dress in the shape of fingers that had sent her into a fury. She’d kicked Miles and Levi out of her house and spent the next hour getting the spot out of the hand-tatted heirloom lace.

After that, she’d called her dad, but he hadn’t answered—though Marshall Stroup had sent her a text saying he’d be there to officiate. So, that was something, she supposed. She’d just have to have one of Jonah’s friends walk her down the aisle, she guessed. Her stomach lurched at the thought. Better to walk alone. Brides did that nowadays, didn’t they?

After that, her motorcycle wouldn’t start, and even when she’d tried to get an Uber or Lyft, none were available because of the impending hurricane.

The skies were dark and foreboding, as they should always be on a wedding day. What bride didn’t want to have wind-swept hair and rain-smudged makeup on their wedding day?Ugh!

Thankfully, she didn’t live too far from the lighthouse, where they decided to have the ceremony. Unluckily, winds had picked up, and she’d had to hold her heels in her hand so she could run down the boardwalk on the beach and up the wooden stairs to the building. A raincoat protected her dress from being blown about, but her hair was done in.

She’d also gotten a sliver in her foot at the top of the stairs. Why had she thought getting married with a hurricane on the way was a good idea?

Now she was in the reception hall of the lighthouse’s main building completely disheveled, and sad as she took in the ten guests to their wedding. None of whom were her family or friends except Marshall Stroup—if he could be called a friend. She always thought of him as a lurking acquaintance. Not really a friend, not really a colleague. Just kind of there. He’d only gotten an invite because of that license he got online that allowed him to marry people.

“Looking good, Bluebell,” Miles called out, making the other guys burst into laughter.

“Jump off a cliff!” Blue snapped as she grabbed the back of a bench seat to steady herself as she put her heels back on.

Stroup and Jonah joined her at the door.

“What happened to you?” Stroup was in his late fifties, balding on top, round in the middle, and wore glasses. He was also the most serious man she’d ever met. She wasn’t sure his face was capable of smiling, like it had a factory malfunction or something. “You’re a mess.”

She breathed out. “Thank you,” she deadpanned.

Jonah reached up and smoothed down her hair, which she was sure looked ahh-mazing if she had to guess by the snickers still coming from her groom’s friends. “I should’ve arranged a car for you, darlin’. Did you ride your motorcycle up here?”

“I ran,” she said, then spat some gritty, sand from her mouth that she hadn’t realized had gotten in her teeth during her dash down the beach. Now her mouth tasted like mud. Swell.

He blinked those big blue eyes of his filling with surprise. “Why didn’t you call me?”

She let out an exasperated huff. “The groom’s not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” Blue wasn’t a superstitious person, but this was already the farthest thing from a normal wedding that she could imagine. The groom was in a suit with no tie and admittedly looked good, but the groomsmen, or their guests, or whatever they were, were all in jeans, t-shirts, or wife-beaters, and some of them even had flip-flops on! She just wanted a little tradition at her wedding. Was that too much to ask?

“Where’s your father?” Stroup asked.

Sorrow hit her like a fist to the gut, but she shrugged and threw out the first non-committal response that came to her. “He’s on his way. We’re a little early.”

Stroup nodded. “All right, I’ll see you two at the end of the aisle.” He strode off.

“Where’s your ring.” Jonah stared at her left hand.

She glanced down. Her ring! She’d left it on the shelf in her bathroom. How on earth had she forgotten it? She opened her mouth to give her excuse. “I—”

“Never mind that. I need to talk to you.” Jonah grabbed her hand and pulled her into a side room to hollers and catcalls from the gang. Not a room, a closet. Of course.

“Looks like they’re getting a start on the wedding night!” One of Jonah’s dingbat friends called out.

She turned, intent on marching out there and beating to death whoever had said that. She’d found her limit, and this was it! Like she’d let her first time be in a broom closet, in her wedding dress, smooshed between a mop and a spiderweb!

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