Page 115 of For Pleasure Or Worse

I winced, having forgotten that little fact. Though I’d not expected to be ambushed first thing in the morning by my bridesmaids. In their defense, it would have been reallydelightful in a different circumstance. The only thing that would have made it worse was if my mother was here.

“What is with all the damn hollering in here?” A feminine voice crested the doorway.

Fuck me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Mateo grabbed a second pillow and pressed it over his nipples as my mom pushed between my sisters.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Natalia Emile,” she guffawed and smacked a manicured hand over her eyes. “It’s your wedding day, not your birthday. Don’t you know this is bad luck?”

“I was just leaving!” Mateo slid off the bed with the pillows still snug to his nether regions, sidestepping around the group of women to keep his backside out of sight. His clothes were scattered across the floor, but Bella gave him no time to gather them as she pushed him toward the door the same way you shoo seagulls away from food on the beach. “Wait, wait, wait!” he protested. “I’m naked!”

Anna Duran appeared in the doorway with a bottle of champagne in one hand, ready to join the pre-wedding festivities, and bumped right into Matty. Her light eyes widened and took him in from messy bedhead to his socks. “Get!”

“Mom—”

“Mateo David Duran, you are not supposed to be here!” She shoved her son out into the hallway without a second thought but before the door could fully slam closed in his face he stopped it with his palm.

“Please just give me my clothes,” he begged.

Camilla swiped a pair of pants off the floor and threw them into the hall, nailing him in the gut. Mia followed with his wrinkled shirt crumpled in a ball and smacked him right in the face.

“Okay, I guess I’ll—” His sentence was cut off by the door flinging shut.

My teeth clamped together. I’d never been caught under my parents’ roofsneaking around with boys as a hormonal teenager, but somehow Mateo and I were making it a habit in adulthood. A very bad, unbreakable habit that was somehow more mortifying every time. The room turned their attention back to me.

In my signature fashion of making light out of the awkward, traumatic moments in my life, and because I would probably never learn, I clicked my tongue against my teeth. “Mimosas, anyone?”

The day-of coordinatorshowed up an hour later, toting our professional photographers and videographer along into the bridal suite to bounce around filming the morning. Room service delivered a cart of catered breakfast, and soon after that the hairstylist and makeup artists set up and got working on my bridesmaids. We danced around the room in our matching silk robes to a mix of my favorite house music, and all the pressure of getting married and putting on a wedding that would exceed expectations melted away.

I wanted it to be memorable, of course, but like I’d said to Mateo out on the balcony, there was nothing that could happen today that would sully what we had. This wedding reception was just a cherry on top. A big-ass fucking party to celebrate the union that already existed in secret between us. It made me love it even more. Our two lives diverging into one in the most perfect, storybook way.

Ophelia hung my gown beside the bridesmaid dresses on a tall rack, and it all became so real. They looked effortless and elegant together. The black flowy floor-length dresses my sisters and Phee chose for themselves brought out all the details in thesimple embellishments of mine. My bridal gift to the girls was matching white pearl earrings and a bracelet that went perfectly with the rare blue ones my sisters gifted me to wear. Ophelia texted Frankie to come grab the matching cufflinks Mateo had chosen for his groomsmen for the ceremony, and I realized I wasn’t even worried if they wore them or not.

Eloping was the shit.

Morning turned a corner into the afternoon, and the girls were dolled up, hair curled, slipping into their dresses while I got my makeup done with curlers in my hair. My mother looked stunning as usual in a pretty coral dress that accentuated her tan skin, and she hovered around me as the makeup artist tapped eyeshadow onto my eyelids.

“Is that too dark?” she asked.

I looked in the mirror at the light brown blend of color at the outer corner of my eyes. “I like it,” I said. “Trust the process.”

“You want to look natural,” she added. “Glowy and bright. Less is more. You’re so beautiful, you should be highlighting your natural features.”

My tongue drew circles into my cheek to keep from chewing it off. “Thanks, Mom,” I bit out. “Don’t worry, it will be exactly how I want it.” The makeup artist nodded her to death until she took a step back to watch from the comfort of the cushy ottoman a few feet away.

Anna came out of the bathroom and surprised us all with a long sage green off-the-shoulder gown that hugged her body and ruched in all the right places. I steepled my fingers in front of my mouth, squealing. With everyone's encouragement, she did a few spins, showing off the completed look proudly. She didn’t wear makeup at home, and seeing her eyes glaze over as she took in her reflection in the mirror pulled at all my heartstrings. It had probably been years since she had a reason to dress up,and this was way different than any other event. It was her son’s wedding. She deserved to feel beautiful.

Knuckles rapped against the door and Frankie ducked inside, looking devilishly handsome in his suit and tie. I knew he cleaned up nicely, but Ophelia lit up like fireworks on the Fourth taking in his long, combed-back hair without the usual hat on his head and a pair of superbly tailored pants.

I blew out a low whistle. “Francesco, you look like a million bucks.”

“Very nice,” Camilla added to a chorus of hummed agreement and impressed nods.

A blush crept from the collar of his shirt up his neck and pinkened his cheeks. He dropped his head bashfully, studying his shoes, and for a second I forgot why he was standing in the threshold of the suite altogether until Ophelia pranced over to him with the cufflinks.

“Oh, right.” Frankie cleared his throat, gazing down at her and getting lost all over again. He lifted Phee’s chin and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. The room shrank around them in their private, intimate moment.

“Young love,” I teased. They had the same type of special that Matty and I did. The worlds had aligned when we all ended up in Coconut Creek together at the same time. It was fate. Fate was the culprit of everything.

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