Page 8 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
He tilted his head. “So do I. Mine involves sea turtles.”
“Mine involve an educational tour of the botanical garden.”
“Oof.” He winced. “That sounds . . . deeply un-fun.”
“It’s relaxing.”
“It’s a guided walk through plants,” he said wryly.
She gave him a look.
He grinned. “Come on. You don’t want to sit still today. You want to live a little.”
“I’m fine with the scale of my living, thank you.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “That’s likesalad-bar living. Everybody wants the dessert cart.”
Despite herself, she laughed. She hated that he made her laugh so easily. He gave up trying to convince her and they split up after breakfast.
They said a tentative good-bye in case he was able to get a boat ride. She stubbornly followed her itinerary but couldn’t stop wondering what Gideon was doing or if he had left. The thought gave her an unexpected twinge of disappointment.
By lunch, she found herself lingering by the beachside showers after her scheduled swim. When she spotted him helping a kid fix a tangled flipper strap and laughing with thelocals, her chest squeezed. She quickly moved on to the next line of her itinerary—reading in a lounge chair by the pool.
Later, she found Gideon on the porch, towel slung around his neck, curls damp and sun-kissed. He was staring at his phone, brows drawn in concentration.
Juliana had been stalling. Folding laundry that didn’t need folding. Rechecking her planner. Avoiding the one event that had loomed in the back of her mind all day like a shadow at the edge of the beach.
The ceremony.
“Any luck getting a boat?” she asked, her voice more casual than she felt.
He looked up, shook his head once. “Nope. Storm’s rolling in north of here. All the charter companies are grounded until it clears.”
So he wasn’t going anywhere.
She nodded, unsure if she felt relieved or trapped. Probably both.
Her fingers hovered over the leather folder sitting on the porch table. The itinerary was still tucked inside, neat and crisp, just like everything else she'd planned months ago—before Leo had changed everything with a single, cowardly video.
She'd nearly canceled the Sacred Union Experience. But something inside her—a stubborn, silent protest—refused. She hadbookedthis. She hadplannedthis. And she was not letting Leo’s absence write the story of her life.
Completing the ceremony felt important. She made plans and followed through with them. That wasn’t going to change.
She cleared her throat, eyes still fixed on the folder. “Well, if you’re here anyway...”
Gideon raised a brow.
She hesitated. Was she really doing this?
“I need you to come with me,” she said, too fast. Then slower, more measured. “To a cultural ceremony thing. It’s scheduled for five o’clock and it’s intended for two people.”
He didn’t say anything, just watched her with that unreadable expression of his.
“It’s symbolic,” she added quickly. “Cultural. Nothing binding. Just...a box I need to check.”
Gideon’s brow furrowed, just slightly. “You sure?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Of course. It’s just a tradition. Part of the package.”
