First Comes Marriage (Aster Bay #3)

Chapter Twenty-five

“I’m sorry we’re late!” Tessa burst into the ballroom at The Barclay, the boutique waterfront hotel at the center of Aster Bay’s tourism industry, a Styrofoam to-go cup clutched in one hand. Jamie trailed behind her. He set a tray of mini pastries in the center of the round table at the edge of the room that the Food and Wine Festival Committee was using for its meeting.

“We had to stop for a milkshake at Dockside,” Jamie explained with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “That’s the big craving for month eight. Milkshakes.”

Natalia, the lingerie shop owner, stacked a few of the mini pastries on a napkin as she asked, “Why didn’t you make the milkshake yourself?”

“Apparently mine don’t taste as good,” Jamie said.

“It’s not that they don’t taste as good. But they’re different.” Tessa lowered herself into an empty chair with a sigh. “It’s the ice cream. You use a different kind.”

“I use local—”

“It’s very good ice cream,” Tessa said in a way that made it clear they’d had this argument many times before. “But it’s different. Don’t argue with me. Argue with the baby.” She pointed at her swollen belly. “I don’t make the rules.”

Gavin stifled a laugh, wincing when Kyla elbowed him in the ribs. “We were just talking about what packages we should offer this year, and how to gamify them.”

“The easiest thing to do is create a passport program,” Sabrina explained, handing Jamie and Tessa copies of the notes she’d distributed earlier. She’d been up until well after midnight putting all her thoughts together, perfecting the language, the visuals, and she would have kept going if Sebastian hadn’t insisted she come to bed—not that she needed all that much persuading. She pushed away the thoughts of all the ways her husband had found to use his tongue the night before and forged ahead. “Between all the tastings, the opening dinner, and the bonfire on the beach, there are plenty of events and we want to encourage people to attend them all. If they attend at least four events over the course of the weekend, they’d earn an entry in a raffle for some kind of fantastic prize.”

“Tell him about the themed tracks,” Kyla said, nodding encouragingly.

“You all already did a great job curating themed packages of experiences last year. This would take it to the next level. We create themed tracks of activities—a girls’ weekend, for example. A mini photo shoot at the boudoir studio, a visit to the lingerie shop, a manicure or facial at the spa—”

“A breakup party at Get Clayed,” Kyla chimed in, grinning.

“Exactly. And if you do all the items in the track you get extra entries in the raffle. That way we can encourage people to visit all the businesses in town, not just the ones participating in the festival,” Sabrina said.

“I like it,” Jamie said.

“You better watch out, Sabrina, or they’ll make you the next chair of this thing,” Tessa cautioned with a smile.

“It worked out alright for you,” Jamie said.

Tessa shrugged, dissolving into laughter when Jamie tickled her side.

The rest of the meeting flew by as the group brainstormed tracks that would send tourists all over town and introduce locals to places they might not have otherwise had occasion to visit: a session of goat yoga at the goat farm; a walking tour of the filming locations from Once Upon A Town , the reality dating show where Gavin and Kyla had gotten together; an escape room-style game at Aster Place, the historic mansion in town; a mulled cider workshop at Longfield Farm; a pub crawl through the bars, breweries, and distilleries in town—the list went on and on.

By the end of the meeting, Sabrina had her own list of places she wanted to visit in town. When the meeting was over, Tessa slid into a seat beside Sabrina. “Did you get an appointment with Dr. Rosenbaum?” she asked.

“I did! Thank you for the recommendation. I go next week. I can’t believe he got me in this fast.”

“Good gynecologists are hard to come by. I’m happy to help. Those of us who are newer to town have to stick together,” Tessa said. “Trust me, though, by the end of the year, it’ll be hard to remember why you ever wanted to live anywhere else.”

Sabrina turned Tessa’s words over in her mind as she said her goodbyes and drove back to Sebastian’s condo. It was already hard to remember why she’d ever wanted to live anywhere else. She’d always loved Aster Bay—the people and the waterfront, the shops and restaurants—and her summers visiting Aunt Lucy were some of her happiest memories, especially that summer ten years ago when she’d spent most of her time stocking food pantry shelves with the man who was now her husband. If things hadn’t gone south all those years ago, if she hadn’t believed that Sebastian would run her out of town with an angry pitchfork-wielding mob, she probably would have stayed in Aster Bay instead of skulking off to Maine to lick her wounds and rebuild.

And now, all these years later, she could truly call Aster Bay home .

She paused, a strange sense of dread creeping up her spine. Homes could be lost. Homes could be taken . If she wasn’t careful, she’d once again have to give up her favorite coffee shop and local ice cream and the friends that had come built-in with her marriage. Even her position on the festival committee, where for the first time in years other people were looking to her for answers, could be taken from her—after all, these people had been Sebastian’s people long before they became hers.

And where would she go then, when Aster Bay was no longer welcoming to her? How many lives was she going to fall in love with and have to give up? How many times would she be forced to start over?

It was exactly what she’d been afraid of, why she’d promised herself never to get married again.

Fat lot of good that promise did you. All it took was forty-eight hours in Vegas with Sebastian Graham to get you to abandon that plan.

Sabrina put her car in park in the spot designated for Sebastian’s guests and dug through her purse for her phone. She refused to lose another home. It was too late to go back in time and stop herself from marrying Sebastian, but it wasn’t too late to protect herself against the inevitable day when he decided he’d had enough of playing house.

Her fingers hesitated over the name on her phone screen.

What if she was overreacting? What if she and Sebastian could actually make it work? What if the man who growled filthy things in her ear and brought her to ecstasy over and over again didn’t pull the rug out from under her?

And what if he does?

She couldn’t risk it.

She jabbed the name on the screen and fired off a quick text to her father.

Sabrina: I’m ready to talk about that post-nup.

** *

“Jesus Christ!” Jamie slammed a hand over his heart and glared at Baz, who had been too deep in Lemon and Thyme’s bookkeeping software to even notice his friend had come into the back office at the restaurant. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago.”

Jamie glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall across from his desk. The restaurant didn’t open for the dinner rush for another two hours.

“Is something wrong with the books?” Jamie asked, coming into the office and dropping into the seat on the other side of the desk.

“Just wanted to get a head start.”

Jamie eyed Baz warily. “Did you and Sabrina have a fight or something?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Right. That’s why you’re hiding out in my office in my restaurant.”

Baz held up the shiny silver Monopoly dog without missing a beat in his endless scroll of the last month of the restaurant’s expenses. “You had something of mine.”

Jamie laughed, a deep, full laugh that set Baz’s teeth on edge for some reason he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Did you really spend twice as much as usual on cleaning last month?” Baz asked.

“Baz, come on. You’re not here to look at my finances.”

Baz closed his fist around the Monopoly dog and continued clicking through the accounts on the computer screen.

Jamie sighed. “You leave me no choice. I’m going to have to call in the other guys.” Baz glared at him over the top of the computer monitor. “Or you could tell me why you’re really here.”

“Fuck you.” Baz pushed away from the desk and stared down his friend, turning that little metal dog over and over in his hand.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure why he’d come here. He’d woken up in bed with Sabrina, their legs entwined and her perfect ass pressed to his groin, her auburn hair and her wildflower scent all around him, as he had every day for the last few weeks—and he’d panicked. He hardly recognized himself anymore. Baz didn’t do sleep overs. He did meaningless sex, no emotions involved, and certainly no cuddling. But after the last month, it had gotten harder to remember that he wasn’t the guy who woke up after an incredible night with a woman feeling raw, like his insides had been scraped out—he wasn’t the guy who had sex and woke up feeling at all.

He'd thought a shower would take care of it, washing her scent from his skin, but the entire time, he’d heard her voice in his head. I never wanted to get married again ever, and Marriage is a trap. Words he’d been trying like hell to forget but that kept pushing their way to the forefront of his mind, growing louder every day. Each time he remembered her words, that restless feeling grew until he had to get out of there, away from the bedroom where their clothes still lay scattered across the floor, away from the wall of windows overlooking the bay where anyone could have seen them that first night, away from the condo that smelled like her and the sound of her soft breathing in his bed .

But he hadn’t been able to stay away for long. Guilt gnawed at his bones for leaving her without saying goodbye, for acting like she was another hook-up when she was his wife.

Even if she didn’t want to be.

Or did she? She’d sculpted a clay version of his cock. She slept in his t-shirts. And then there was that thinly veiled conversation about having children. Great, now he was picturing it—little redheaded kids with her freckles and his eyes and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted that, but he also wasn’t sure he didn’t want it, so what the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

His own office had been too quiet for too long, and it was hours yet until Sabrina would be home from the studio. He needed to get it together before he saw her again. He’d intended to go to the vineyard, to camp out in Ethan’s office, but somehow he’d found himself at Lemon and Thyme instead, using his key to enter the restaurant through the kitchen and helping himself to the dark office at the end of the hall.

Now, looking at Jamie, at the pictures of his and Tessa’s wedding that littered his desk, at the framed sonogram picture of their baby, he knew why he’d come here.

Baz pushed out of the chair and paced the length of the small office, scraping his hand over his face. He was grateful for Jamie’s silent patience, almost like he knew Baz needed a minute to collect his thoughts. And maybe he did know. Maybe that’s exactly why Baz had come here.

“I need to say some shit and I need you to listen and let me get it out, okay?”

Jamie nodded, leaning back in the chair and waiting for Baz to continue.

“Sabrina and I didn’t mean to get married. It wasn’t planned. We had too much to drink and things got out of hand and the next morning…” Baz held up his left hand and Jamie nodded in understanding. “Did you know there’s no such thing as an annulment in Rhode Island?”

“No shit?”

“So fine, whatever, we’ll get a divorce. Only something’s wrong with Sabrina. She’s sick—I mean, not sick exactly, but she gets this pain.” He gestured vaguely to his stomach. “Not all the time. But too damn often. And—get this—she didn’t have health insurance. Couldn’t afford to get any until the studio’s up and running. Fine, I think, we’re already married, she’ll go on my policy. No big deal. And once she’s on her feet, then we’ll get divorced.”

“Makes sense,” Jamie said. “You always take care of the people in your life.”

Baz made a face and pushed away the compliment. “Only now our families think we’re married for real. And you remember how the Pages are.” Jamie nods. “I couldn’t let her go to that party Labor Day weekend alone. They would have torn her apart. And I think, fine, I’ll get to rub it in Holly’s face. I’ll get to show her she didn’t break me when she left.”

“And did you?”

“I don’t give a shit about Holly,” Baz scoffed. Then why did her words the other night send you into a tailspin? He shrugged off the thought and barreled ahead. “Except there’s this thing with me and Sabrina. This sexual chemistry or whatever. And I can’t remember ever feeling that way with Holly. Like I had to kiss her or I was going to explode. You know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“I don’t remember it being like that with Sabrina either. Before. She was a kid, and I liked her well enough. Wanted her to be happy. Liked making her laugh. But she was a kid. She wasn’t this… It doesn’t matter. Point is, it was supposed to be paperwork. Roommates. Married in name only.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Jamie said with one of his goddamn eyebrow arches.

“ Let’s enjoy the time we have , she said. Like it’d be that easy. And I’m the fucking idiot who agreed. Because of the exploding thing.” Jamie nodded, but Baz was pretty sure he was making less and less sense as he went on. Baz dropped onto the couch at the edge of the office and braced his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he could keep himself together if he could hold on long enough. “How did you know? With Tessa. How did you know it wasn’t just sex?”

Jamie blew out a long breath as he considered his answer. “There were a hundred little ways, but I think it was when being with her started to feel inevitable. Like she was the shore and I was the wave. There was never a world in which we didn’t end up crashing into each other. I think it was when not being with her started to feel harder than being with her.”

Baz hung his head and scraped his hands through his hair. “When we knew each other before, I used to call her ‘wildflower.’ Her shampoo or something had some kind of floral smell and she seemed…chaotic, but in a good way. I was the only one who called her that.” He turned helpless eyes towards his friend and pressed his hand to the side of his ribs. “She has a tattoo. Right here. Wildflowers.” He struggled to string together his next thoughts. “She’s my wife. I don’t think I ever want her to be anything less than that.”

For once, Jamie didn’t smile and Baz had never been so grateful. This didn’t feel like a smiling matter. It felt big and messy and out of control. It felt like careening down a highway in a rainstorm and that second when the water got under your tires and for a moment you were weightless and wild and terrified, but you also felt a little bit like a god, like you could do this impossible thing and survive. Only this time Baz wasn’t sure how long it would be until his tires touched the pavement again.

“Does she know how you feel?”

“She doesn’t want to be married. Not to me. Not to anyone. Her last marriage… She doesn’t want to do it again. If I tell her… Fuck, I don’t even have the words to tell her.”

“Don’t you?” Jamie leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and looking directly into Baz’s eyes. “You tell her you love her.”

The words stole Baz’s breath and simultaneously settled something inside him, like for the first time since that bar in Vegas, the buzzy restlessness in his chest calmed to a dull hum. He loved her. He loved her. He silently repeated it to himself a few times, as though he were trying it on for size, and was awe-struck by how well it fit. He loved her. As the words were settling into his bones, becoming a part of him he hadn’t even known was missing, something new wrapped itself around his heart, an echo of a long-ago pain.

“And what if I tell her that, and she doesn’t want it? What if she’s not all that different from her sister after all?”

“Then at least you know.”