73
Celeste knew it was a long shot.
The party turned quiet as she walked to Jack, not down an aisle, but across a paved lot, past the boat rental office, and toward the dock. Her pulse raced the entire way, and it took all of her will to put one foot in front of the other for the solitary, terrifying march toward a bewildered-looking Jack.
She glanced at the crowd, searching for Elodie. Her sister gave her a thumbs-up. Celeste knew that she, at least, would understand what she was doing. Trying to do.
Jack stood at the bar talking to Manny and Lidia.
Celeste caught the eye of Clifford Henry, and he began cutting through the crowd.
“Excuse me! Make way . . . wedding officiant coming through!”
People began murmuring. Elodie, realizing what was happening, made her way over to stand by her side. Manny, already next to Jack, gave Celeste a smile. The guests, confused and hushed in anticipation, gathered in a loose crowd before them. All she heard was the gentle lapping of the water and the old Bee Gees song “How Deep Is Your Love” playing on the sound system. A breeze stirred the lace of her dress.
“What are you doing?” Jack said, glancing around uncomfortably.
“I brought you something for your birthday,” she said. “If you’ll accept it.”
She held out the two matching platinum bands Gemma made for them. He looked at the rings uncomprehendingly, then at Clifford. Then at her gown.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Jack said.
Celeste reached for his hand. “I do.”
It all happened so fast. One minute, Elodie was feeling sad and uncomfortable around Jack. The next, he was her brother-in-law.
“Well, that was something,” Tito said, handing her a flute of champagne. “Does this make us cousins-in-law?”
She laughed.
“I suppose.” She reached down to pat Pearl. Overstimulated, she’d settled by Elodie’s feet and wouldn’t budge. Bart, in contrast, roamed around the party, visiting each cluster of guests like he was the host.
“I hope that doesn’t mean we can’t also be more,” he said. “Have you given any more thought to moving in?”
Of course she had. But as tempting as it was to think of moving into Tito’s house and living a romantic life by the sea, she couldn’t. Pavlin & Co was a part of her. It was her legacy, one she’d set her claim on from the time she was a little girl. It was her first love, the one that had always been there—for better and for worse. She couldn’t walk away.
“I have a life in New York,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be my whole life, but I can’t just leave it behind. I can’t live here full-time. As much as I want to be with you.”
Tito reached for her hand.
“I was just thinking: If Celeste could change her mind about marriage after all these years, then the least I can do is visit the Big Apple.”
Elodie set her glass down on the nearest table.
“Don’t tease me.”
“Is that a yes?” he said.
Elodie threw her arms around him. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
The dock became a dance floor.
Tito was a nostalgic DJ: The music was 1970s heavy—Elton John, Tom Petty, Carly Simon. Celeste, the beaming bride, had kicked off her shoes while Jack twirled her around. Beside them, Tito and Elodie danced like they were the only two people in the universe.
Gemma watched from the sidelines as Sanjay moved around taking photos.
“Hey,” Alvie said, beaming. She handed Gemma a glass of champagne. “A toast: to the summer of love.”
Gemma held the glass by her side. “Alvie, what’s Sanjay doing here?”
Alvie shrugged. “It’s not my party. But I can say that a few days ago Maud became very interested in making sure we’d have some good photos from tonight. Unusually interested.”
The sun was starting to set, a pinkish hue casting the boatyard in an almost surreal light. The bay was at high tide, the water lapping against the dock. Somewhere nearby, a cork popped.
The song “American Girl” poured out of the speakers, and Sanjay put his camera down long enough to take a break at the bar, downing a glass of water. She walked over, her heart beating fast.
“Hey,” she said.
He poured a second glass of water and handed it to her.
“Hey. Sorry for just showing up like this. Maud reached out to me. She said they needed a photographer for a party tonight and for Carnival next week. She made me an offer I couldn’t turn down.”
The summer’s not over yet.
Gemma bit her lip.
“Did . . . Monica come with you?”
His eyes met hers searchingly, and the surge of emotion she felt took her breath away.
“No. She didn’t,” he said, his voice low. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“Why not?” she said.
“Because I realized I had feelings for someone else. Feelings that made it unfair for me to be in a relationship with her.”
Gemma swallowed hard. The sky was almost dark. A firefly glowed nearby, its tiny light like a winking star. She stepped closer to him.
“So . . . what now?” she said.
He kissed her, enveloping her in his arms. The rest of the party—the rest of the world—receded. The music changed again, something slow and moody, a song she didn’t recognize but knew would stay with her. In that moment, she felt—for the first time in a very long time—like the pieces of her life had come together. Like it was whole.