CHAPTER FIFTEEN

April"s fingers danced across the laptop keyboard, with a rhythm less like a waltz and more akin to a frenetic tap dance. Outside, rain pelted the windows of the bed and breakfast with a persistence that matched her own attempt to tackle the ever-growing pile of emails. With every ping of an incoming message, a tiny crease etched itself deeper between her brows. They weren"t just emails; they were incessant reminders of expectations and demands, each one needling at her composure.

The storm outside mirrored the mounting chaos in April"s mind. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room, casting long shadows that seemed to play out the discord within her. She tried to focus on the screen, but her thoughts were relentless, swirling like the leaves caught in the wind's furious embrace outside.

Her mother"s voice echoed in her head, a litany of frets about the wedding details, the plans that needed firming up, the questions that demanded answers. It was as if her mother believed that by sheer force of will—and an endless stream of words—she could stave off any potential disaster.

And then there was her father, a man whose appetite for laughter often led him to seek out the next joke or amusing anecdote, as though life was a stage and he the perennial entertainer. His antics, meant to lighten the mood, only served as a stark contrast to the tension that gripped the house.

A gust of wind rattled the panes, drawing April's gaze towards the window just as another thought intruded: Julia and Chloe. The sisters, bound by blood yet divided by grievances, had turned every shared space into a battlefield. Their voices, raised in anger, had become a dissonant soundtrack to the weekend, overshadowing the harmonious future April had envisioned.

The wedding—the supposed celebration of unity—loomed in her consciousness, its very essence now marred by doubt and uncertainty. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, willing away the image of what was meant to be the happiest day of her life, crumbling beneath the weight of familial discord.

April blinked back to attention, her hands pausing above the keys. Was it truly possible for something so joyous to feel so utterly disappointing? The tempest raged on, indifferent to her problems, as if to remind her that nature cared little for human plans.

April"s fingers hovered listlessly over the keyboard, a cursor blinking amid a sea of half-answered emails. The drone of the storm outside played a dreary symphony against the glass, mirroring the chaos that brewed within her. She pushed away from the desk, the chair rolling back with a whisper against the old wooden floorboards of the bed and breakfast.

She rose and paced to the window, pressing a palm against the cool surface, watching as rivulets of rain traced haphazard paths down the pane. How simple they made it seem to follow a course laid out without care for perfection. April had never yearned for the flawless ceremony that bridal magazines flaunted; she only craved a day suffused with love—an honest celebration of the journey she and Jackson had chosen together.

But now, as dark clouds brooded and thunder clashed like cymbals in the sky, the idea of a wedding felt like an echo from another life. The doubts that had been mere specters at the edge of her thoughts solidified into tangible fears. Did she truly need the fanfare, the chorus of well-wishers, the carefully arranged flowers and seating plans, to affirm what her heart already knew?

The tempest raged on, relentless, as if it were determined to wash away any semblance of the occasion they had planned. It pounded at the roof, thrummed against the shutters, an uninvited guest that refused to be ignored. April watched a particularly large droplet collide with the glass, splintering into a dozen smaller beads that scrambled for purchase.

"Is this it?" she murmured to the gathering gloom, her voice barely rising above the din. "Are you telling me to stop the plans? What do you want me to do about all this? You clearly don't want a wedding."

Perhaps the universe was sending a message, one she was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge. What did it matter if the linens matched the centerpieces or if the band played their first dance song just right? None of those details would make her love for Jackson more real or their commitment more steadfast.

A bolt of lightning cleaved through the sky, illuminating the room with stark whiteness, followed by the rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. April's reflection stared back at her from the window—a woman caught between what was expected and what was essential.

With a deep breath, she stepped away from the window, her decision carving itself out of the storm's fury. A wedding, big or small, wouldn"t define them; their love was not a moment but a continuum. And perhaps it was time to embrace that simplicity, even if it meant veering off the path she"d so carefully mapped out.

April"s fingertips hovered above the keyboard, then slowly curled inward as she withdrew from the laptop. Her eyes drifted away from the screen, unfocused and introspective. She could sense the warmth of the hearth at her back, but it did little to thaw the chill of realization settling in her bones.

She pondered the contrast: her life with Jackson was a harmonious dance, each step they took naturally finding rhythm with the other. Yet the discord of the wedding preparations jangled like an off-key note, stubbornly refusing to align with the melody of their bond. It wasn"t supposed to be this way — a celebration shouldn't feel like an uphill battle.

A gust of wind hurled itself against the house, rattling the shutters with a vehemence that echoed April"s inner disquiet. The tempest outside mirrored the one within her; every clap of thunder resonated with her escalating frustration.

Her hands, once poised for productivity, now clenched into tight knots of tension. Knuckles whitened, reflecting the emotional strain that coursed through her like electricity in the stormy air. The wedding, which should have been a joyful culmination, was turning into a crucible, threatening to melt away her composure.

The longing for normalcy tugged at her, a yearning so potent it was nearly palpable. To lounge on the porch swing, tea in hand, while the sun set over the dunes. To listen to the gentle whicker of horses in the distance rather than the cacophony of demands and disappointments that this weekend had become. Her desire for simplicity, for the tranquility of her bed and breakfast — her sanctuary — was a silent scream amidst the chaos.

With each pulse that throbbed in her temples, April felt the edges of her patience fraying. A regular weekend, one of laughter and light touches with Jackson, seemed a distant dream, blurred and unreachable through the tempest's veil.

April"s gaze swept the room, tracing the tension that hung thick as the storm clouds outside. Shoulders hunched, brows furrowed, each person seemed to stew in their private cauldron of irritation. Across the parlor, Julia flashed Chloe a look sharp enough to slice through the heavy air, and Chloe countered with an eye roll so dramatic it could"ve been a scene from a silent film. Even the house appeared to share their sentiment, the windows rattling fiercely, as if trying to shake off the storm"s fury.

She felt it too—the simmering anger that bubbled just beneath her calm exterior. The wedding plans, once a blueprint for celebration, now seemed like a map to nowhere. Here she was, the bride-to-be, yet it was her peace that teetered on the brink, her dreams that lay scattered amid the forecasts and the family feuds.

But why should this be her battle to fight? Her eyes closed momentarily as she pondered the irony. April, whose days were defined by the soothing rhythm of ranch life, by the gentle nudge of a horse"s muzzle or the laughter shared with Jackson under a starlit sky, now found herself in the eye of a hurricane of discontent. It was her heart that should have been dancing, not racing; her face that should have been alight with joy, not etched with worry lines.

Her hand rested on the back of a chair, knuckles prominent against the polished wood—an anchor in the swell of emotions. She took a breath, let it out slowly, feeling the tightness in her chest loosen ever so slightly. Yes, if anyone had the right to unleash their wrath, it was April. The one whose vision of a perfect day was dissolving before her very eyes. And yet, even now, she and Jackson moved quietly among the guests, offering soothing words, pouring drinks, sharing smiles that didn"t quite reach their eyes.

Why did it fall to them, she wondered, to patch up the cracks, to smooth over the jagged edges of this weekend that was meant to be theirs? Why, when they should have been basking in the glow of impending vows, were they instead navigating a minefield of others" moods and misgivings?

A sigh escaped her, lost amidst the howl of the wind. The injustice of it all pressed down on her, a weight she hadn"t asked to carry. But even as the storm raged on, she held firm, a testament to the strength she"d honed in the courtrooms and the resilience she"d discovered in herself since coming to Dune Island. With Jackson by her side, she would get through this storm too, whatever it took.

April"s fingers trembled above the laptop keyboard, a silent symphony of her mounting ire. The once comforting click-clack of keys had become the ticking of a time bomb within her. Each breath she drew was a prelude to the storm that brewed inside, mirroring the tempest outside. Her eyes, flitting from face to tense face in the room, were twin beacons of suppressed fury.

And then, amid the tightening coil of tension, a flash cleaved the gloom that clung to the corners of the parlor. Silver light slanted through the window panes, casting long, stark shadows across the hardwood floor. It was as though the heavens had rent apart, allowing a brief intermission from the relentless darkness. April"s thoughts of confrontation scattered like leaves in the wind, her attention snared by this sudden intrusion of brightness.

The thunder that followed was a primal growl, shaking the foundations of the house, rattling the windows in protest. April felt it resonate deep within her chest, a kindred spirit to her inner chaos. This was no mere storm—it was an embodiment of all the pent-up emotions that surged through her, echoed in nature"s own turbulence.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to be part of a director"s haunting vision, setting the stage for a climactic reveal. But reality was far more pressing, the question more immediate: who could possibly brave such a storm to arrive unannounced at her doorstep?

The notion that someone was out there, battling the elements to reach this haven of unrest, both baffled and unnerved her. With every pulse of lightning, the mystery deepened, leaving April to wonder what fresh twist awaited them all.