Page 50 of Kiss the Bride

Liv (Mum):Please get her to call me. Until I hear her voice, I’ll still worry.

Almost an hour later, my phone bleeps again. Sleep is still my enemy, and the sun still an hour away, I grab my phone, hoping it isn’t Mitch in another drunken rage, or her father with more instructions.

Liv (Mum):I want to trust you. Good luck. Rachel.

I finally fall asleep just as the first rays of sunlight peek over the horizon, only to be woken by the enticing aroma of coffee. Olivia stands by the bed, already showered and dressed. Gone are the comfy bikini or yoga pants she’s worn since Sydney. Today, she’s donned the shortest denim shorts known to mankind and a lime green bikini top so bright it’s impossible to look away.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” she asks, her voice light and casual, though her eyes avoid mine.

Damn, she looks beautiful—radiant, even. I’m exhausted and torn between sweeping her back into bed, consequences be damned, and keeping the promises I made to give her space. But I know I’d probably fall asleep halfway through, giving her another reason to doubt my interest.

“I’m sorry,” Liv says, her voice wavering. She offers me the coffee but still doesn’t meet my gaze.

“For sleeping? Forget it,” I say, trying to keep things light. Seeing her like this, dressed and ready to face the world, makes my heart leap. She’s back, and I want to shout the news from the rooftops—but I won’t. Our parents deserve a few more hours of sleep before I start celebrating.

“No, silly,” she says, bumping my shoulder lightly. “For last night.”

“Forget it,” I repeat.

“I thought you’d be interested in… well, interested in me. I’m sorry.”

“Liv. I said we’d talk after breakfast…” I set the coffee aside and start to get up, but she backs away, shaking her head.

“No. There’s nothing to talk about. I made a fool of myself, again. I get it. No one wants their friend’s seconds.”

Hell the fuck, no.“Liv!” I jump up and catch her arm as she turns to leave, needing to set her straight. I mean, how can she think that I see her as anything other than My Liv, My Life. My coffee spills onto the bamboo floor, but that’s the least ofmy worries. Getting Liv to hear me, really hear me, is more important than anything other than breathing, and even that’s optional if she doesn’t commit each word to heart. “I don’t see you as that—I’d never see you like that, and I don’t ever want to hear you refer to yourself as anyone’s seconds.”

“Then why?” She stops and glares at me, her eyes filled with confusion and pain. “No. Don’t answer that. I really don’t need the full list of why I am not anything to you.”

“You are everything.” My voice cracks, and I take a deep breath. “You always have been, and you always will be everything to me. Last night was about timing, not feelings.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake again.” This time, I can’t stop her. She grabs her phone and leaves, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoes in my chest.

“Liv!” I call after her, but it’s no use. She doesn’t look back.

FUUUCK.

I slump back onto the bed, staring at the spilled coffee. My mind races, trying to figure out how to fix this. Liv means everything to me, but I’ve pushed her away at the moment I should have pulled her closer. The sun continues to rise, casting long shadows across the room, as I resolve to make things right.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

More Than Bad Timing

Olivia

“Footsteps in wet sand,”I mutter, snapping a photo of the beach and adding the cliché caption. It’s proof to the world—and to myself—that I’ve finally left the villa. Today’s update feels particularly fitting, but I have a bigger statement planned for later.

Ever since the sales assistant at the airport offered to dispose of my wedding dress, I’ve known what I need to do. It’s taken a few days to muster the energy, but today, I’m ready.

I need space from Hunter to process last night’s rejection and reclaim control over my life. I’ve done the self-wallowing, the tears, and the drinking. I’ve wallowed in bed and shamelessly thrown myself at my ex. Now, it’s time to decide: cancel the rest of this failed honeymoon or put my plan into action.

I walk along the beach, feeling the morning sun warm my skin. Instead of turning back at the end, I climb over the rocks and continue along the next stretch of sand. I’m not running away; I’m finding clarity. The waves crash rhythmically, whispering,you can do this, you can do this.I take their encouragement to heart.

Finding a deserted beach, I drop to the dry sand. It’s too early for couples to emerge, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I start by calling my lawyer, redrafting my will, updating my next-of-kin details, and erasing Mitch from every corner of my life—health, car, home insurance, all of it. The symbolic cleansing feels as refreshing as the ocean breeze.

I pull up my credit card statements and go through each recurring bill to ensure he’s been completely wiped from my life, smiling when I come across his car insurance payment. Mitch borrowed more than he can afford on a vintage Ford he has at a storage unit. The loan is in his name, but the insurance comes out of my account. I not only cancel the insurance, but I also notify his finance company before giving notice on the storage facility. Petty? Maybe, but he slept with my bridesmaid on our wedding day, so I think karma will forgive me.

Feeling stronger, I stand, brush the sand off my legs, and head back to the main building. Last night didn’t go as planned, but I don’t need Hunter’s support for what comes next. Hunter can stop me from kissing him, but he can’t stop me from this.

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