Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

MARIGOLD

I glanced up at the scorching sun overhead and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. Could Elaine have picked a hotter place to get married? It was barely past noon, and the heat was already unbearable.

My bridesmaid dress, a dusty rose color that looked beautiful in photos but felt like a thick woolen blanket in this weather, clung to my skin like a second layer. I tugged at the neckline, trying to create some airflow, but it was hopeless. The fabric wasn't as breezy as I'd hoped when I'd first tried it on.

Still, I was finally with my friends in the right country, and I was happy to support Elaine on her big day. Even if it had taken a serious effort to get here and cost me a bit of physical discomfort.

My legs hurt, and I was sore in places I'd never been sore before. Last night had been intense . My cheeks heated as I thought about it. A handprint on my ass was a physical reminder of just how wild things had gotten. I'd never hooked up like that before, and now it was all I could think about when I should have been focused on the cocktail hour.

Nothing could distract me from the memory of his hands on my body, his breath hot against my ear, his low voice murmuring things that made me shiver even now. I had woken up with little bite marks on my boobs. I didn't even remember when they occurred. My body had been pleasured from tip to top.

I shook my head, trying to banish the thoughts. I needed to focus. There were too many familiar faces around, people I hadn't seen in years and had hoped I'd never see again. I scanned the crowd, putting faces to names and memories.

There was Mr. Shaw, the librarian from our high school. Elaine had always been close to him. He'd encouraged her to pursue her passion for writing. She still attributed her success as an indie writer to his support and belief in her. He caught my eye and waved, a warm smile spreading across his face. I waved back, but my smile felt strained. Seeing him again brought back memories of awkward teenage years spent hiding in the library during lunch breaks, trying to avoid the more popular kids who made my life hell.

And there was Grandma Gigi, Elaine's elderly grandmother, who used to terrify me when we were growing up. Gigi was super religious and old school. The story of her discovering Elaine's thongs at sixteen and then burning them in the backyard—leaving a giant patch of charred grass—was legendary.

I avoided Gigi's gaze, not wanting to get pulled into a conversation about the state of my soul or lack thereof. I was certain she would see one of the marks I had tried to cover. Or just read my mind.

Then there was Shawn, Elaine's brother. I used to have the biggest crush on him. He'd grown up well, filling out in all the right places, and his jawline was just as chiseled as I remembered. He was talking to a group of people, looking every bit the charming, successful guy I'd always imagined him to be. But the idea of going up to him now, when I had nothing to show for the years that had passed, made my stomach churn.

So many of the people I had grown up with had made something of themselves. I just felt like I wasn't quite measuring up.

As I walked around the crowd, mingling and making small talk, I was underwhelmed by my own responses. It seemed like everyone had something positive to share. They'd been promoted, started new careers, gone back to school, earned their masters, started a family, or gotten married.

But me?

Nada.

Nothing.

Zilch.

I was still sending out new bank cards and getting yelled at by customers for overdraft fees. My life felt like it was in a holding pattern, and every conversation reminded me just how much I hadn't achieved.

I compared myself to every single one of them, and in my eyes, I came up short every damn time.

I sighed, longing for a glass of champagne or something stronger. I wasn't going to drink before the ceremony. I didn't want to be any clumsier than I already was. I needed no help in that department.

Instead, I sipped my club soda and tried to pretend I belonged in this group of successful people.

"Rose!"

A woman was waving at me. Or toward me.

I looked over my shoulder to see if there was someone behind me.

"Daisy!"

I frowned and looked back at her. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes. Don't you remember me?"

I had no idea who she was. "I'm sorry."

"Lily! That's it."

That was when I figured out she was trying to remember my name. She was on the right track.

"Marigold," I corrected her as politely as I could.

"Oh gosh, that's right." She giggled. "I'm Elaine's neighbor. I remember the two of you growing up."

"How could I forget you, Miss Thompson?" I smiled, semi-fond memories flooding back of kids sneaking into her apple orchard and being chased out by her old hound dog. "You've aged so gracefully," I offered, the white lie slipping out smoothly because that was the kind of thing one said at these events.

"Oh, bless your heart, Marigold!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with delight.

Her wrinkled hand came to gently pat my cheek, an awkward contact that made me flinch internally. But I bore it with a good-natured smile plastered on my face.

"Elaine was just telling me that you're working at a bank now," she said, her tone being more of a question than a statement.

I sighed inwardly, my smile straining a little. "Yes, that's right. Customer service."

"How wonderful! It must be so interesting dealing with people all day." She seemed genuinely excited by the idea, her eyes sparkling behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

"Uh, yes. Every day is definitely unique ," I replied, trying to match her enthusiasm but falling short.

"Well, I always knew you girls would amount to something," she continued, patting my arm. "You two were inseparable. Always adventuring and causing a ruckus." She chuckled, getting a forlorn look in her eyes.

I felt my smile become more genuine as I recalled those days. Those were simpler times when life didn't seem to be a competition and success was not measured by your job status or income.

The wedding emcee announced that the ceremony would start in thirty minutes and that cocktail hour would end in fifteen. He instructed everyone to finish their drinks and head up to the seaside garden to find their seats. I sighed with relief. At least the ceremony would give me an excuse to stop talking about my lackluster life.

"It was so good to see you," I said. "We'll talk more at the reception."

"I'll see you there."

I spotted the other bridesmaids gathering to return to Elaine, who was doing a private first look with her husband-to-be, Carlos. Carlos's family lived in Mallorca, which was how all of us ended up here.

I started making my way toward the group, hoping to lose myself in the preparations for the ceremony. Courtney, my archnemesis who I was really trying hard to pretend to like, sidled up to me with a pout.

"What's up?" I asked, genuinely worried there was something wrong.

"It must be so hard to be the only single person in the wedding party," she said, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "But don't worry. No one thinks your life is tragic."

It was a blow to my confidence, and Courtney knew it. She'd always managed to make me feel insecure, and I hated that even as a grown-ass woman, she still had that power over me. I opened my mouth to lie and say that I liked being single, but before I could get the words out, the other girls looked past me and let out a collective sigh.

I turned to see what they were all gawking at, and my heart skipped a beat. There, walking toward us with the confidence of a man who knew he owned the world, was Zayn. My knight in shining armor, the very man who'd left me sore and breathless last night. His eyes met mine, and that same spark of fire and trouble I'd seen in him yesterday was still there.

My body immediately responded. I could practically taste him on my lips.

Without thinking, I reached for him, like a cat clawing its way out of a bathtub. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could say anything, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into me.

"Ladies," I said, turning to face the group with a bright, albeit slightly panicked smile. "This is my fiancé, Zayn."

The words were out before I could stop them. It was a lie—a ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment lie that I knew would come back to bite me in the caboose—but I was desperate, and Courtney's condescending smirk had pushed me over the edge.

I was just so sick of being the single one. The one everyone looked at and pitied. I knew they thought of me as the ginger with just a few too many pounds riding on her hips. Now they were all swallowing their tongues. Their expressions were too good to feel any guilt.

I looked up at Zayn, knowing the poor man was probably thinking I had lost my damn mind.

But all I saw was amusement, and for a split second, I feared he might blow my cover. But then he leaned down, brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek, and kissed me like I was the love of his life. His lips were soft, warm, and insistent against mine, and for a moment, I forgot all about the lie. It was just the two of us, wrapped up in a kiss that felt far too real for something that was supposed to be fake.

When he finally pulled away, I was breathless, my heart racing in my chest. The other bridesmaids stared at us, their eyes wide with shock and awe. Courtney's smirk had vanished, replaced by an expression I couldn't quite place—jealousy, maybe? Or disbelief? Homicidal rage?

Whatever it was, it was delicious.

"Wow," Courtney said, blinking as if she was trying to process what she'd just seen. "I had no idea you were engaged, Marigold."

"I'm full of surprises," I mumbled under my breath, still reeling from the kiss. But then I forced a smile and shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "It's a recent development."

Courtney looked Zayn up and down like she was trying to find where the batteries went. He was very real. Every damn inch of him was all man. I couldn't help but gloat just a little. I mean, really. Zayn is one hell of a catch.

The other bridesmaids were looking at me and then at each other.

"You never mentioned you were seeing anyone," Courtney said.

"You never asked," I replied smoothly.

I glanced up at Zayn who had his arms loosely hanging around my waist. His handsome face was devoid of any signs of discomfort. The man was an excellent actor. He wasn't going to embarrass me.

Thank the stars.

"I think I would be screaming about this from the rooftops," Jenna, one of the other bridesmaids, said.

Jenna was nearly six feet tall and looked like a model. I could feel her suspicion. She doesn't believe me. She's going to call my bluff.

That would be more humiliating than if Zayn rejected me straight up. I was already thinking of a lie. I could say I was just joking.

Haha, just kidding.

I didn't think that would go over well, though. They would laugh me right off the island. I would never be able to show my face around these people again.