Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(82)

“You want to come to San Diego?” Her cautious optimism makes me giggle.

“Yes. And, I’m calling you Mom from now on. It’s just something I need to do. Pass the message along to Dad, would you?”

Pause.

“Mom?”

“It’s good.” Her voice sounds tight with tears.

“Thanks for sending a card to Bo, by the way. He said it was really nice.”

“Oh? You’ve spoken with Bo?”

“I have.”

“I can hear the smile in your voice.”

“Good. Monica and Josh’s wedding is tomorrow and then they go on their honeymoon, so I shouldn’t ask for next week off, but

maybe the week after?”

She tries to rein in her enthusiasm, but fails spectacularly. “Sounds great, just keep us posted.”

“I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too.”

“I love you too, Baby Blue.”





Chapter Forty


“You are absolutely stunning, Monica,” I whisper with tears in my eyes.

Monica spins once, crisp sunlight highlighting the lace overlaying her princess-cut dress.

“Really? Thank you. Also, thank you for helping my mom so much this week.”

“Of course. My duties, you know.” I wink and hand her a glass of champagne.

“Look at you. God, Ember, yoga and Bo Cavanaugh do a body good, huh?”

Last week, when I got home from Concord, Monica was waiting—in true Monica fashion—at my apartment. She wanted details. She got

them. She asked lots of “what now” kinds of questions, questions that I don’t yet have the answers to. I hope in the next few

weeks Bo and I can sort out the nuts and bolts. But, today is about my two best friends getting married.

As the music cues the opening of the chapel doors, I walk down the aisle, tearing up at Josh’s expectant smile. Out of the corner

of my eye, I spot Bo, sitting in the front row next to Monica’s mom, beaming at me the way Josh is looking past my shoulder to

Monica. I give him a wink and blush the rest of the walk toward the altar.

This is the good stuff.



*



Bo



“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Joshua, you may kiss your bride.” Josh’s father concludes the ceremony amongst the hoots

and hollers of the small beachside chapel. I’m sure it’s freezing outside, but the atmosphere in here is absolutely perfect.

The procession begins, and after Josh and Monica breeze by in a flurry of applause, Ember steps down the aisle. The champagne-

colored dress sets her auburn hair on fire. And her smile? I’ll take complete credit for that full smile cast in my direction. She

’s responsible for mine, too.

A half-hour later, I’m waiting anxiously inside the Inn for the wedding party to arrive. Thank God they didn’t request a zillion

pictures from the photographer—I want to dance with the love of my life. When the wedding party and Mr. and Mrs. Dixon are

announced, and they have their dance, Ember joins me at my table for dinner.

“You are drop-dead gorgeous in that dress, November,” I whisper into her ear as she sips her wine. Her ear turns pink as she

blushes.

“Thank you.” She tries to be polite at a table that holds her boss and some co-workers, including David Bryson. David just looks

at me and winks. “I’ve got to get up there for my toast. Be back in a few.”

Always the picture of grace under pressure, she looks unflappable as she heads to the mic. Tiny white twinkle lights illuminate her

flawless face. She licks her lips before she starts speaking, and I think back to the first time we sang together. She licked her

lips then, too, and it drove me mad.

As she toasts her best friends, I remember the first ten beautiful days we spent together. We did everything backwards—fell in

love first, and learned about each other after. But, it allowed us to fall in love all over again. Who am I kidding? I never fell

out of love with her. Those several weeks when she was working at my office were the worst in my life. She didn’t want me. Worst

of all, she wanted someone else. Every single day, my love for her grew stronger, until it exploded in anger and frustration after

the Coldplay concert. That whole night was a f*cking disaster—by all accounts neither one of us should have spoken to the other

after that. But we did. Because we have each other. Deep in our souls, we have each other.

“So, Josh and Mon, Mr. and Mrs. Dixon, my toast to you is that you spend a thousand lifetimes in your perfect love song. To Josh

and Monica.” She raises her glass and looks between me and Josh and Monica as we all toast the newlyweds.

Finally, we get to dance. The first song is upbeat, designed to get everyone on the dance floor. Josh, Monica, Ember, and I all

dance and laugh together, bumping hips and jumping around like idiots. Happy idiots.

“So, Bo,” Josh says as we hit up the bar, “what do you have planned for Ember’s birthday?”

“When is it?” I ask, taking my beer from the bartender.

He raises his eyebrows. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, no. When is it? I don’t want to screw it up.”