Olivia nodded at Helen and managed to breathe in tiny bursts. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Once the ceremony’s over you can change,” Melinda said. She looked at her daughter with narrowed eyes, and Olivia felt like she was a kid getting caught in a lie all over again. When she was little, she’d never gotten away with anything, and the way her mom kept eyeing her said she knew something was up.
“We must finish your hair or you’ll be late, miss,” one of the ladies said, and Melinda turned back around.
“Sorry, sorry. Can’t have me being late to my own wedding, now can we?”
Olivia held her stomach as the other women laughed. Helen was the only one who noticed and quickly grabbed her friend’s hand, holding it in her own. “One more night,” she whispered. “Then we’re in the homestretch.”
“One more night,” she repeated and prayed she could make it.
***
Quincy didn’t feel anything. Pascal fixed his tux jacket and bowtie, making sure he looked like the perfect prince, but he felt nothing. He tried that morning to be excited for his dad, but he didn’t see his dad getting married. He saw a glimpse of his future self in a month, getting married to the woman he didn’t love. The woman he loved was going to leave the isle and maybe never come back.
And if she did, what then? Would she be able to look him in the eye when he was married to another? Spending his time with another? Sleeping with another?
“Sir, you should probably put a smile on your face,” Pascal whispered. “You look as if you’re going to a funeral.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you not happy for your father, sir?”
“No… no, I am. Just something else on my mind, is all. I’ll try to smile for the ceremony, promise.”
“I hope so. You don’t want the people thinking you’re not happy for him and his new wife.”
“We don’t want that, now do we?” he replied sarcastically. “I’ll be fine, Pascal, really.”
His servant and friend of so many years stepped back and eyed Quincy. “Sir… Quincy, something troubles you, and I think it has to do with your impending wedding to Gigi. If you are that unhappy with your decision, there are other women. It does not have to be her.”
Quincy laid his hand on Pascal’s shoulder. “I know, but sadly she’s the logical choice. I’ll be fine, really. Just have to learn to accept the hand I was dealt, right?”
“Sir, if you talked to your father—”
“Really. I’ll be fine, but I appreciate your concern, as always. Now then, am I presentable or do you need to tweak me some more?”
He saw the question in Pascal’s eyes and the worry as he sighed. Quincy begged him with his eyes to let it go, and his friend bowed his head. “You are ready, sir. They will be waiting for you downstairs, as will your father.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
On his way through the corridor, his thoughts returned to Olivia getting ready with Melinda in her room. He wanted to talk to her before he escorted her down the aisle, but he wasn’t going to get that chance, apparently. They needed to talk, and it was killing him to see her look at him the way she had. Not cold, exactly, but she’d put up a wall to keep herself from getting hurt. Quincy hated that he’d done that to her. He loved the damn woman, and he couldn’t be with her.
He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.
“Ah, Son, you look classy,” Lamont said as he paced back and forth in the foyer.
“As do you, Dad. But you look a bit nervous,” he said and smiled, sincerely happy for his dad and laughing at his nervousness. “You need a drink before the ceremony?”
“I never thought I’d get married again,” he admitted.
“I’m happy for you, Dad, really.”
Lamont smiled. “Me too, Son. I was worried what your mother would think, but then I heard her yell at me last night in my dreams.”
“She tell you to stop being a fool and follow your heart?”
Lamont laughed. “Just like always. Right then, let’s get going. Don’t want to be late. Pretty sure Melinda would not like that.” They walked to the waiting car, and Quincy felt his chest tighten at the thought of being so close to Olivia again. He needed one moment alone with her, just five minutes so he could tell her one last time how he felt.
***
Melinda was hidden behind a partition set up on the beach while the guests for the wedding—pretty much the entire isle—found their seats to watch the royal wedding of their beloved king to his new queen. Olivia was to wait at the end of the aisle and greet guests as they entered. It would have been fine except for one thing. Quincy stood by her side, greeting guests as well.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, shaking the hands of an elderly couple. He glanced over, and she hurriedly looked away. “Are you going to say anything to me at all?”