Page 74 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
“Right, but we were married,” I say, not even sure what I mean by that.
“And now you’re not.”
My stomach rolls. I think I’m going to be seasick. “How much longer until we’re there?”
“Twenty minutes or so,” Blake says. “Why?”
“I think I’m seasick.”
“Oh, shit, dude. Okay, focus on something stationary.”
“Like what?” I ask. “We’re in the middle of the fucking Pacific Ocean, all I see is water.”
“We’re not in the middle,” Blake scoffs. “A ferry this size would run out of gas long before that happened. Plus—”
“You know what I mean.” The boat tips up and then drops down with a splash. All I hear is water. Water and the motor. The diesel fumes out here are wretched. “Maybe I would feel better if we went inside,” I say.
“Yeah, okay, dude. Whatever you want.”
The motion of the boat is less erratic inside but no less nauseating. I hate throwing up. I hate it more than talking dolls or creepy clowns. I’d once dreamed about retiring on a boat someday and sailing around the world with my dog. How am I supposed to do that when I get seasick? How did I not know that I get seasick?
The ferry lurches up, and my insides go with it. I barely make it to the trashcan near the snack bar before emptying my stomach contents into the mouth of the lid, which is not remotely convenient and almost impossible to aim for. I toss the lid to the ground as I feel another wave coming. The smell of the garbage, combined with the roll of the waves, the thought of Brie beingtotally good—all of it works in harmony to make sure I’m retching until there is absolutely nothing left in my system to be given.
And then we dock.
bristol
I waitat the marina for the ferry to finish docking before I look for Blake. He had to change ferries at the last minute this morning, so I came to Seaside before he did. I wasn’t going to wait at the marina with Taylor’s dress and everything else just to ride over with him.
The venue is letting us use a golf cart to get around, so that’s what I’m picking him up in. It’s not that big, just the bench seat in the front and a bench seat facing backward. Hopefully, he doesn’t have a lot of stuff with him. I had a hard enough time fitting my suitcase and garment bag, the box of things Taylor requested, two fluffy dresses, three shoe boxes, and a veil, in addition to the driver and myself when I was picked up.
The ferry finishes docking, and the boarding plank connects. People start to file off the boat. From my ride over, I know it will take him a minute to collect his luggage from the luggage compartment before he exits, so I don’t look for him immediately.
But as the crowd thins, and I still don’t see him, I wonder where he is. Cell service is iffy on the island unless you’re connected to Wi-Fi, which I’m not, so I can’t call him to make sure he made it on the ferry until I get back to the venue where we’re staying.
But I don’t want to drive back there to call him unless I’m sure he’s not here. Finally, I see his head emerge, the dark-red hair that is so similar to mine. He’s got his golf clubs with him. Ironically, that might be a problem with the size of the golf cart, but we’ll make it work.
He’s also got a big suitcase, a small suitcase, a hanging garment bag, and a huge binder. That’s going to be a little trickier, I think. But hopefully still doable. One of us will have to hang onto the bags to ensure nothing falls off. The trip to the marina is windy and bumpy, so—
Oh! There’s another head.
It’s the tall head.
The one that’s been in my dreams for weeks.
What the hell is Wyatt doing here?
Blanche:He’s the best man.
Right, but he doesn’t have to come early.
Blanche:Sure, he’s only Blake’s best friend. Why would he come early?
You know what I mean.
Blanche:Actually, I don’t.
I had three more days to finalize Plan B before I figured I’d see him. Rather, three more days to actually come up with Plan B. Because Darby and I never did come up with a new one after finding out Wyatt was fine without me, even though I claimed I wanted him to be.
