“Or a big action,” Clementine adds.
“And really, that’s the best kind,” Sierra puts in.
“You two are not helpful,” I warn.
“Were we supposed to be?” Sierra tosses back.
“On that note, good luck,” Clementine says, and Sierra echoes her.
Maybe they sound a bit doubtful, but I’m happy.
After all, I’m in Hawaii, the reception food is amazing, and the wine has me loosened up enough that I cheer enthusiastically when the DJ announces it’s time to toss the bouquet.
“Who’s going to make that catch?” he calls into the mic. “All the single ladies, raise your arms in the air! Whoop whoop!”
Trish gets into position with her back to the dance floor, laughing as her bridesmaids shout at her to throw it their way and they elbow each other for a prime spot.
I get an elbow in my own ribs and see that my mom has somehow managed to be right beside me at the opportune time. “Come on, Skyler! Let’s get out there and go for it!”
I giggle at her enthusiasm. “You go for it, Mom.”
“No, we both have to do it. Mother-daughter tag team.”
There’s no time to argue. Mom and I charge into the throng just as the DJ counts down, “Three, two, one! Here she goes!”
The bride lobs the bouquet, and the gaggle of women turns into a rugby match complete with high heels and cocktail dresses. We scrabble and gasp, and then someone squeals, “I got it!” and holds the flowers high in victory.
Mom finds me as the clump disperses, still staggering with laughter. “Sky! You were right there. I thought for sure you had it.”
“You wanted me to dive for it, Mom? I didn’t want it that badly.”
“Everybody wants to catch the bouquet.” She blows a fallen strand of hair from her face. “I wanted to catch the bouquet. I trained for months. It was there at the tip of my fingers and then bounced off.”
“Curses.” I snap my fingers. “Just have to try again at one of the nine weddings for which I’m saving the date.”
She sighs. “Speak for yourself. You have all the wedding invitations. I just get birth announcements for my friends’ grandchildren.”
Her emphasis has me raising my hands in surrender. “Don’t even go there, Mom.”
“I know.” Another sigh. “I just want you to be happy, Skyler.”
I remind her gently, “I am happy, Mom. I’m happy being single.”
“But look at all these handsome groomsmen.” She points across the way. “And look at that. That silver fox is Harold Armstrong, your cousin’s uncle’s friend. He’s retired and single. Plus, I hear he can still drive at night.”
“Quite the catch for a sexy senior citizen.”
“Hush.” She gives my arm a teasing pinch. “Don’t tell a soul I’m sixty-five. I’m forever forty-nine. In fact, maybe we should pretend I’m your older sister.”
I choke. “My twenty-years-older sister.”
“Don’t cockblock me, sweetheart.” She’s target-locked on Harold Armstrong, eligible bachelor. “I’m going in.”
“Good luck, sis.” She’s ridiculous, and I love her too much to be angry at her nudging me altar-ward.
I say good night to Sierra and Clementine, wish Trish and Blake well, and go to my room alone.
It all feels just right.
In the morning, I’m ready to tackle the day. After I get dressed I make my way to the beach. I FaceTime Katie as I walk across the sand, showing off the view on my phone. “Good morning from paradise! That’s Hawaiian paradise, not the afterlife. Just clarifying, since today I take on the ocean, aka that giant caldron of sea creatures, aka Things That Want to Eat You.”
“Yes, I’m sure the fish will find you tasty.”
“I did slather on some coconut lotion this morning, so I’m probably all tropical and yummy.”
“Then, I hope they enjoy their breakfast of you,” she teases, as I swing the screen to dock where I’m meeting the group. “And that’s the boat that will carry us out over the abyss.”
“Speaking of tasty, who is that stone-cold fox by the boat? Is he on your tour?” Her eyes go wide as the sky.
I peer over the screen at the sight in front of me. A tall, tanned drink of man, then I whisper to Katie. “I think that’s the skipper of my Island Adventure Tour. This IS a cruel joke, but I will not be tempted,” I say, wagging my finger.
She scoffs. “How can you not be tempted? He’s, like, movie star good-looking.”
“I am strong,” I say, walking closer to the matinee idol.
Katie looks doubtful. “What if he takes off his shirt to swim? What if you swoon at the sight, and he has to give you mouth-to-mouth?”
“You don’t give mouth-to-mouth for a swoon.”
“Well, if he swoons, I suggest you offer mouth-to-mouth.”
“Enabler,” I hiss, then, flinch, quickly bringing the phone closer, to shield my mouth. Who knows if he can read lips? “He’s waving at me now. And tapping his watch. Time to go. Say nice things at my funeral if I die a watery death.”