Beautiful Beginning(39)

over my identification and credit card, and waited while she finished the

rental paperwork. I’d reserved a large cargo van for our trip to the

cleaner; wanting to make sure everything would arrive in perfect condition,

even the garment bags pristine. I closed my hand around the keys, feeling a

sense of calm at finally being in control of something. This was how you

got things done: you f*cking did them yourself.

“Mr. Ryan!”

I turned at the sound of my name, the familiar clicking of heels on the

wood floor.

Shit.

“Kristin,” I said. “We were just on our way out.”

“The clothes,” she said, nodding toward the key ring in my hand.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

“Ahhh,” she started, and gave me the most pained smile I’d ever seen. My

stomach dropped on instinct. “There’s a slight issue.”

Deep breaths.

“‘Slight’?” I repeated. Small accident. Tiny problem. Minor wrinkle.

“Small,” she assured me with a smile. “Insignificant.”

“Here we go,” I heard Will say.

We followed her out a back door, across a patio, and down to the lawn where

they were currently setting up for the wedding. Or trying to. My shoe sank

into the grass with a sickening squelch on the first step.

“Oh, God,” I said, looking around. “Fuuuuck.” The entire area was

flooded. Chairs were knocked over, tables askew with legs sinking into the

swampy grass, workers rushing around in a panic.

“A sprinkler line broke during the night,” she said, apologetically.

“They’ve stopped the water but as you can see . . .”

“Wow,” Will said, poking at a puddle with the tip of his sneaker.

I scrubbed my face with my hands and felt Max grip my shoulder, squeezing.

“They can fix it though, yeah?” he said, realizing I was two seconds from

losing it and stepping in front of me.

“Oh, definitely,” Kristin was saying, though I couldn’t be sure through

the sound of blood whooshing in my ears.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, panicked that Chloe had

seen this and was freaking out.

But it was only my mother: Honey, do you happen to know if your father

packed his black dress shoes? I can’t find them in our room but he says he

did.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket, tuning in as Kristin was saying,

“They’ve fixed the line, now we’ll work on getting this area dried up or

move everything a bit farther down the beach.”

Max turned to me, charming smile in place. “See? Nothing to worry about,

mate. We’ll pick up the dresses, get you some food . . . or maybe some

alcohol, judging by your expression, and everything will be fine when we

return. And if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just be taking these.” He

plucked the keys from my hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked, reaching for them.

“Sorry, Ben, best for everyone, I’m afraid. You’re likely to mow down

pedestrians in your state of mind and that would put a definite wrinkle in

the wedding festivities.”

“I can drive, Max. Give me the goddamn keys.”

“Have you seen yourself? Got that vein thing happening,” he said,

reaching up to tap my forehead before I smacked his hand away.

Will snorted behind me and I turned, leveling him with a glare. He held his

hands out in front of him. “The man has a point,” he said, backing away.

I spun to Max again. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course I do.”

“Here?”

He waved me off. “Left side, right side. How different can it be?”



Max guided us back through the hotel and out to valet. We argued the entire

way, me calling Max a bossy *, and Max asking me where I’d left my

purse. Will trailed behind, half asleep on his feet.

An attendant approached us immediately, ignoring our bickering as he

matched the keys to a list pinned to a clipboard. We followed him to a

white cargo van parked at the curb, cool in the shade of a grouping of

palms. I waved off his offer of directions, placed a few dollars in his

hand, and turned my back as he walked away.

“So, the plan. Will,” Max said, waiting a beat before reaching out and

smacking Will across the cheek.

Will startled, eyes wide. “What?”

“You all right?”

“God, I’m just so f*cking tired.”

“Well, have some coffee and snap out of it,” Max said. “You’ll ride

with us to the cleaners, then take a cab from there to pick up the rings.”

“What, am I your little sidekick now? Why can’t Henry help with any of

this?”

“Because Henry talks too much and you’re much prettier,” Max said. “Who

knows? We may need to sweet talk a feisty old bird at the dry cleaners, and