"Yes, those words."

  "How about 'be my wife'?"

  She blinked at him. "Yes… Wait, what?"

  "You heard me."

  "Everett, I signed the papers."

  He bent his knees until he could look into her gaze. "I don't care. I'll rip them up. We can do this."

  "Because of your dad? Fear of failing doesn't make a marriage, Everett."

  "Is this about a prenup?" one of the Babes asked in a stage whisper.

  "Shhh," said another. “Hush!”

  "Because I love you, Isabel. I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

  "You do—er, don't?"

  He shook his head and fought off the urge to curse. "It occurs to me that we might have a communication issue we need to work on."

  "I don't understand."

  "I know," he whispered, raking his hand through his hair. "But hear me out, okay? The words… Isabel, my father said he loved every woman he's ever met. And then a few days or a week or a month later, there would be another woman, like the words had never been said and meant less."

  "They mean everything to me."

  "I know. I see that now. But before… I thought you'd understand that me helping you was… I've always been a person who believed actions speak louder than words."

  “Told you,” Tessa said.

  Isabel’s mouth dropped open in surprise. "You helped me because...you love me?"

  "Yes. And the words do mean something—everything—when they come from you," he said, being brutally honest. "And from now on, they mean the same to me. When I say I love you, I mean it."

  She nodded, tears filling her eyes.

  "Actions are good,” she whispered, “b-but love is meant to be voiced. Seen. Felt. But only if you mean it," she hurried to clarify. “Please don’t say it if you don’t.”

  He stepped closer, drawing her into his body and using one hand to gently lift her chin. "I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in Vegas. You were standing beneath a spotlight at the gallery, wearing a gold dress, and you looked like something out of a dream."

  He heard the sighs from the ladies behind them. If only his words were impacting the woman in front of him as much as the Babes. "I can’t imagine my life without you, Isabel. Not because I don’t want to fail but because I can’t see a future without you in it. Please, stay. We'll figure out the logistics but…be my wife. For real."

  A tear trickled from her lashes, and he swiped at it with his thumb, holding her weight as she pressed her hands against his chest and rose to her toes to kiss him.

  Behind them the passengers burst into excited squeals and applause, and he felt her smiling against his lips at their enthusiastic response.

  "Oh, I have a wedding to plan," her mother said.

  “We have a wedding to plan,” one of the other Babes said.

  Everett chuckled and hugged Isabel tight.

  "Should we tell them we’re already…?" she asked, the words muffled by his shoulder.

  "We'll tell them on our twentieth anniversary," he whispered. "Let them plan. I want to see my bride in a real dress, not a Vegas rental."

  She giggled as she drew away from him and leaned back to stare up at him, arms wrapped around his neck.

  "You really mean it? You're not just saying it because—"

  He kissed her again, and again. "I love you, Isabel. And if you stop running away from me, I’ll keep telling you every chance I get."

  She laughed again, the sound everything he wanted to hear and more.

  Epilogue

  Isabel looked around and took in the smiling faces surrounding her. "Ready? One, two..."

  The single female guests waited anxiously for the bouquet toss, and Izzy couldn't wait to see the winner.

  The crowd cheered when she tossed it over her head. Devon caught it one-handed right before the bouquet would've smacked her in the face, looking surprised and horrified as she tossed it like a hot potato to one of the other cousins.

  Izzy laughed at her antics, noting the blush on Devon's pretty face when she sent a glance in a certain direction across the room and slogged back her champagne like a sorority girl.

  Izzy followed the stare and raised an eyebrow high when Oz pretended to be as oblivious. Even though he wore the same hot-faced flush that fooled no one.

  The neighbor and family friend had grown up with the cousins, and at one point Oz and Devon were engaged to be married. But ever since the breakup, they'd avoided each other, with Devon spending ninety-nine percent of her time in New York. She came home for special occasions, unlike their cousin Hadley who had disappeared off the face of the earth in the past year.

  Izzy looked around the room again, frowning when she realized Hadley hadn't attended the reception.

  Izzy had received Hadley's response declining her invitation to the wedding with a sweet note of apology, but she'd hoped Hadley would at least make an appearance here.

  Izzy worried about Hadley and she knew she wasn't the only one. Cheryl and Ms. Georgia looked concerned where they sat with the Babes across the room, and Izzy tried to remember the last time Hadley had been home for a visit.

  Ms. Georgia wasn't getting any younger, and it wasn't like Hadley to stay away so long. Nor could Izzy shake the unease that something was going on to keep Hadley away. But what?

  Strong arms slipped around her waist and pulled her flush against a hard body, and Izzy turned her face up to stare at her husband.

  Husband.

  Even though they'd been married since Vegas, she had to admit planning the wedding had been a blast. She'd felt like a princess in her never-before-worn white wedding gown, and Everett was definitely her handsome prince in his tailor-made gray tuxedo.

  "What's got you looking so pensive?"

  Izzy shoved her thoughts about Hadley away and focused on this moment. This man. "Mm. I have a secret," she whispered, unable to wait a moment longer even though she hadn't planned on telling him until they were alone.

  "Oh?"

  She grinned up at him and turned in his arms, pulling his head down to whisper in his ear. "Ballsy move of you having Michael draw up house plans without consulting me."

  Everett sighed and stroked a thumb over her cheek. "My surprise is ruined? Great.”

  “Don’t blame Michael. I insisted on taking a look.”

  “Well, the plans are just a draft. You'll get input, trust me."

  "Hmm. I'll say. Would you like to see what I’ve changed?"

  "Now?"

  Her smile widened as Everett’s frown deepened. He undoubtedly knew she was up to something. "Yes, now. I had Michael make some changes, and," she drawled, glancing across the room to see Michael give her a nod, "they're over there."

  She took Everett by the hand and led him to the table where Michael sat. The moment they approached her cousin, Everett's best friend, he lifted his hands in surrender.

  "I only did as ordered," Michael said to Everett with a wide grin.

  Everett shot her another quizzical glance before looking over the plans now spread across the table. Only one change had been made. One very important one.

  She heard the moment Everett saw the addition to her home studio. He sucked in a sharp breath and shoved himself off the table where he'd braced his hands to stare down at the plans. He turned, grabbed her up in his arms, and whirled her around, much to their audience's delight.

  "What's going on?"

  "Oh! They're building a house," Sophia said to the crowd.

  "Where?"

  "Here?"

  "Oh, Isabel, really?" her mother asked, excitement layering her tone.

  Izzy stared into Everett's loving gaze, ignoring the comments and questions, to revel in the moment and capture every nuance in case she wanted to paint it later.

  They were building a house in Carolina Cove—but it was the tiny little nursery room she'd added between her studio and the kitchen that had caught Everett's attention and caused his celebration.

  A smile tugged at her lips, matching his, and she lowered her head to kiss him, softly, tenderly. Breathlessly.

  Telling Him.

  If she ever painted this moment, that's what it would be called.

  Are you curious about where cousin Hadley is hiding? Or better yet, why she’s hiding? Keep reading for a sneak peek at SEASHELLS AND WEDDING BELLS, available for pre-order!

  Hadley Masterson pulled to a stop outside the funeral home and prayed for God to strike her dead.

  She didn’t want to die. But dead would be a whole lot easier than walking in that door alone. And once she was inside? She had little chance at escaping unnoticed.

  Truth be told, she’d much rather take her chances with a forgiving Maker than her mother.

  Was that bad?

  She closed her eyes and shook her head at herself. She was a forty-five-year-old woman who quivered in fear at the thought of facing a woman once crowned the island’s Mermaid Queen.

  Yeah, well, it didn’t have to be like this, did it, Haddie? Why did you wait so long? Lie?

  She fisted her hands in frustration and tried to mentally find her bootstraps.

  What had seemed like a good idea at the time was now a nightmare, and wishes and wants would get her nowhere. When the time was right, she had to break the news. Somehow.

  Hadley got out of the car and fought the urge to dive back in and make a break for it while she could. Squealing away from the funeral home like a NASCAR driver? Her?

  But what kind of granddaughter didn’t pay her respects? Especially to her namesake?

  Hadley inhaled and fussed with the straps of her purse as she slowly approached the entrance.

  She’d chosen her funeral clothes with the utmost care and wore a black pencil skirt and a sleeveless black top with a bit of white piping around the half-inch ruffled collar, the strand of pearls and studs she’d received from Nan on her thirteenth birthday, and paired it all with two-inch wedges because, as her mother always said, open-toes and sand just didn’t do.

  Hadley paused on the sidewalk when her ears picked up the distinct sound of Calypso music.

  Surely the music had to be coming from somewhere else?

  She turned her head, looking up and down the street for some sign of an outdoor band or restaurant. Because Calypso music? For a funeral?

  For the first time since she’d left Raleigh, Hadley smiled as a huff of a laugh left her.

  Oh, Nan, you didn’t!

  Mrs. Georgia Hadley Benson had died in her sleep at the youthful age of ninety-two, a spitfire of a woman and the last of the Boardwalk Babes’ parents.

  During the summers of ’58 and ’59, Georgia, along with three of her prominent Carolina Cove neighbors and friends, had given birth to a baby girl. One even had a set of twins.

  The proud mothers had taken the babes for daily strolls in their prams—and the locals had nicknamed them the Boardwalk Babes—a name used to this day by the now sixty-somethings who’d gone on to have their own children.

  All in all, Hadley had four pseudo aunts and ten “cousins,” seven female—with the twin Babes each having a set of twins of their own—and three male, ranging in age from Hadley’s forty-five to the youngest at thirty-two.

  The funeral home’s ornate door swung open, and sure enough, Mighty Sparrow blasted from within.

  Apparently Nan’s last act was to go to heaven with a good old-fashioned beach party. Haddie could only imagine her mother’s mortification, and despite her own horror at having to go inside, she smiled at her grandmother’s moxie.

  She really needed to find her own. Fast.

  Hadley stopped as an older man surged through the doors, the smell of Old Spice and cheap cigars drifting to her nose. He tipped an imaginary hat, his triple chins bobbing as he hurried along down the stairs.

  The door shut once more, and she paused on the steps, hand gripping the white vinyl railing as though that alone would anchor her in the turbulent storm beyond.

  Go in. Sign the book. Sneak out as quickly and quietly as possible.

  Maybe they wouldn’t even notice?

  Yeah, what were the odds of that?

  She shoved her shoulder-length hair behind her ear and then just as quickly loosened it when her mother’s voice sounded in her head telling her it would deform her ears and she’d have to have them surgically pinned or else look like Dumbo.

  Amazing what years of fussing could do to a grown woman, no matter her age.

  Cheryl Dummit was all about appearances, though, and Hadley couldn’t remember a time when her mother hadn’t been put together like a perfectly dressed Barbie and expected Hadley be the same. Even a trip to the beach was expected to be made in full makeup, some kind of flowing coverup that perfectly matched her suit, wedges, floppy hat, and jewelry. All part of portraying the perfect image of a Babe on the beach.

  Haddie took another breath and forced herself to climb the remaining steps, heart in her throat as she yanked open the door and forced her foot across the threshold before she could change her mind.

  She’d gotten a stress headache on the drive to the coast, and the cloying smell of the many flower arrangements threatened to turn the painful throbbing into a full-blown migraine.

  A waiter passed with a tray of champagne, and since she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, she hastily accepted the offer and turned to face the wall while she gulped it down, all in an attempt to brace herself for the moment her mother and the rest of the Babes realized she’d come alone.

  Oh, the horror.

  Hadley set the now empty flute aside and lingered in the shadowy corner, taking in the many mourners gathered. Only Nan would or could get by with throwing a party in the very conservative funeral parlor.

  But then, Nan and her friends, then the Babes, had pretty much always gotten away with whatever they wanted.

  The ladies believed there wasn’t much that couldn’t be accomplished with a bright smile, a few compliments, and some well-practiced feminine wiles. And if that didn’t work, throwing some money at the problem usually did the trick—though was rarely necessary.

  One wouldn’t think Carolina Cove fancy enough for such an elite group—it wasn’t Wrightsville Beach after all—but the families’ longevity and reputations carried a lot of clout on the little island. More so when all five of the Babes wed into well-to-do families and thereby increased the status quo up until the last twenty years or so, when tourists began buying up all of the island real estate and muddying the waters, so to speak.

  The original boardwalk homes were now owned by the Babes, with Hadley’s generation scattered about, away from the Babes’ nosy reach. To spy on their kids, the Babes had to really do some digging more often than not.

  Yes, this generation left the Babes shaking their motherly heads. Because of their eleven offspring, only three had married so far, much to their complete disgruntlement, disbelief, and matchmaking efforts.

  But out of sight didn’t equate to out of mind, and the Babes made a point of nosing into their children’s lives as often as humanly possible, distance notwithstanding.

  Hadley spotted yet another waiter, this one carrying a cheese tray. She really ought to eat something to absorb the bubbly she’d just chugged, but her nerves wouldn’t allow it.

  Ever since the phone call informing her of Nan’s death, Hadley had run the gamut of emotions due to the required trip back to Carolina Cove and the grief that continuously sucked the air from her lungs at random moments.

  Maybe she should’ve made an excuse? Claimed sickness?

  I’m sorry, Nan. You know it’s not you. My life won’t be the same without you.

  Hadley spotted the guestbook and slowly moved that way. Pen in hand, she paused. Lah, why did everything about this have to be so difficult?

  Pen poised over the paper, she finally signed her name.

  Her name, no one else’s.

  “Haddie? Is that you?”

  The feminine voice belonged to Mary Elizabeth—Allie, Sophia, and Isabel’s mother.

  Allie was the only other Babe offspring who had married, and Hadley wondered how things were going with them. The last time she’d seen Allie, the poor girl looked stressed, but then, what mother didn’t?

  Smile pinned to her lips, Hadley turned and faced the striking woman. Mary Elizabeth wore black slacks that showcased her slim figure, kitten heels, and a long-sleeved sweater set that mocked the eighty-seven-degree temperature outside. “MeMe, how are you?”

  “Oh, honey, how are you? I’m so sorry about your nan. Your mama will be thrilled to see you. She’s just heartbroken.”

  “I’m sure.” Nan’s relationship with her daughter had been as rocky as Hadley’s with her mother, proving generational dysfunction was really a thing. What was it with mothers and daughters? Why did they always butt heads?

  Hadley’s relationship with her own daughter oftentimes proved difficult, more so than with Hadley and her son.

  “Where’s that handsome husband of yours? Already at the bar? And where are the kids?” Mary Elizabeth asked, looking all around.

  The questions brought Hadley back to awareness, and even though she wanted to laugh at the idea of a bar at a funeral, she inhaled and braced herself for the first of many explanations. “The kids started college a few days ago and are over their heads with that, and…Kyle… He… He’s the guest lecturer at a surgical convention,” she said.

  It wasn’t a lie. The kids had told her Kyle had been asked to speak at a prestigious banquet and would be out of town all week.

  With her.

  “Oh, Hadley, you’re alone? I’m so sorry, hon.”

  “I’m fine,” Hadley said, wishing she had another glass of champagne if for no other reason than to give her hands something to hold to stop the tremor she was forced to try to hide.

  Mary Elizabeth enveloped Hadley in a hug, and she counted backwards in an attempt to maintain her composure. It felt good to be hugged by someone who’d loved her literally her whole life. Too good because the ever-present tears quickly formed and threatened to overflow.

  Amazing how such a simple gesture could open up a tidal wave of emotions.

  “You’re not. But no worries. I’m here for you,” Mary Elizabeth said when she finally released Hadley. “Come on. Let’s get you something to drink.”

 

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