I’m not usually one for makeup at the beach, but for brunch, I decide I should make a little effort. Some concealer and water-proof mascara bring my face some freshness, and a little rose-colored cream spread on my lips and cheeks makes the whole look pretty. I leave my hair to dry naturally because it ends up straight whatever I do to it.
I’m ten minutes late by the time I make it down in the elevator and across to the beachside restaurant. The table is already filled with Natalie and her husbands, her mom Sandra and stepdad Conrad – her stepdad is also her father-in-law - , her auntie Sally and the boys’ Uncle Blake, who is father to the boys I slept over with last night. Oh, and Kane, Karter, Holden, and Harris have saved the last seat for me, right in the middle of them all. Perfect.
My eyes meet Natalie’s, and she raises her eyebrows questioningly. I wish I could telepathically communicate what she’s desperate to know. I’d tell her all the details because it’s so much more fun to go through things with your bestie tuned in. She’d punch me in the shoulder for falling asleep on the job, but squeal with excitement at the thought of us hitting the beach together and what might happen after. I know this because it’s exactly how I feel about what’s happening.
I take my seat next to Karter and Harris, resting my bag by my feet. “Thanks for saving me a seat,” I say.
“You’re lucky we did. Natalie’s auntie was ready to pounce. I think she’s got her eye on Harris,” Karter laughs.
“Why me?” Harris says.
“I think it’s your angelic curls,” Karter says teasingly. Harris touches his hair thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t say they’re angelic. More low maintenance. I couldn’t deal with having to shave my head every few days like Holden.”
“He enjoys looking like the thug in the family.”
“Who’s a thug?” Holden says.
The sound of metal on glass draws everyone’s attention as Max taps his knife against his champagne flute and stands. “Before we order, I just wanted to thank everyone for coming today. I suspect there are some hangovers being nursed.” He looks pointedly at our end of the table, and I shrug as though I have no idea who he could possibly be referring to, even though the idea of poking my finger hard into my eye socket to stop the throbbing is exactly what I’m thinking about right now.
“We couldn’t be more grateful to all our friends and family who have made a long journey to this exotic paradise to help us celebrate our marriage. And now we’re leaving you all to enjoy a honeymoon.” Max laughs, and there’s a round of good-natured booing at their impending desertion of us all. “But we know you’ll have an amazing time here. We hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation time and will see you all back home soon.” Max raises his glass. “To Natalie, our beautiful wife, you arranged almost everything. Thank you for making us the happiest men in the world.”
Everyone cheers and raises their glasses, and after we’ve drunk, Conrad clears his throat. “I’m the happiest man.” He takes Natalie’s mom’s hand and kisses it flamboyantly.
“Ugh. Gross,” Mason says, screwing up his face. Natalie’s mom blushes, but I can tell she loves the attention.
“Are they always like that?” Harris whispers.
“Pretty much,” I say.
The brunch seems to fly past, and we all make polite conversation that mostly revolves around travel. Natalie’s auntie Sally has backpacked around southeast Asia and has a million stories to tell. The one where she ran from a restaurant toilet with her panties around her ankle because a giant black millipede had found its way next to her on a ledge made Karter choke. I’m not sure if it was the millipede or the image of Sally’s panties. I make a mental note to ask him later.
As the waiters are gathering the plates, Natalie waves to get my attention and points in the direction of the ladies’ room. I nod, wiping my face with my napkin before rising from my chair. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Harris, who nods.
I walk shoulder to shoulder with Natalie as she giggles with excitement, but we don’t say anything until we’re in the security of the luxurious bathrooms. “Oh my God. Tell me. Tell me everything,” Natalie squeals, pulling me into a frantic hug.
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” I laugh. “It was your honeymoon, after all.”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she says, moving to the side as a sunburned tourist emerges from a stall to wash her hands.
I look pointedly at the interruption, and Natalie nods, waiting for her to leave before her interrogation can continue. Eventually, we’re alone.