A Marriage of True Minds: A Sasha McCandless Novella by Melissa F. Miller Page B

rodeo.
    “Excellent.” She
turned toward Sasha. “And how are you holding up?”
    “I’m fine. Is
everything okay with Chris?”
    When her Krav
Maga instructor’s boyfriend had offered to play the piano at the wedding, she’d
been so grateful—and eager to cross the item off her to-do list entirely—that
she’d left the choice of music entirely to his discretion. At the time,
Connelly had been shocked by her willingness to loosen her control freak,
vise-like grip and delegate the decision. Now, she worried it had been a
mistake.
    Charlotte
smiled, a genuine, wide grin, and shook her head.
    “Everything is
perfect. You’ll be so pleased.” She patted her silver bob back into place and
smoothed her bangs out of her eyes.
    “Now, remember
ladies, should you need anything, anything at all—aspirin, water, magic tape
for a loose hem, a bandage for a blistered heel, a breath mint, a
prophylactic—I am the woman to see.” She lifted her large, macrame purse as
visual evidence that it contained anything they might need.
    “Prophylactic?”
Jordan mouthed to Riley.
    With the gaggle
of kids her two sisters-in-law had produced in true Irish Catholic speed, Sasha
somewhat doubted Riley was going to be able to help Jordan with the word.
    Maisy leaned
over and stage-whispered, “You know, a condom. Hmm, well, maybe y’all don’t .”
    The room
dissolved into fits of giggles. Valentina pursed her lips but said nothing.
Charlotte threw Sasha a wink and linked her arm through Valentina’s, gently
guiding her out of the room.
    “Now, Mrs.
McCandless, let’s go see about that oceanfront massage I’ve taken the liberty
of scheduling for you tomorrow morning, shall we? You can meet the spa staff.”
     
     
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~
     
     
    With no cell phone, Sasha passed the
time waiting to start the rehearsal staring out at the pristine beach and,
beyond that, the orange sun hanging low over the water. The sun would set soon,
dipping below the glistening waves.
    Will and his
wife, followed by the firm’s secretary, Caroline, and her husband came into
view, walking along the white stone path that led from the cliffs to the beach
below. The four clutched tropical cocktails, made with the syrup of local
fruits and—as Sasha had learned over the last few days—mixed with a generous
hand.
    Maisy joined
Sasha at the window and slipped an arm around her waist.
    “You aren’t looking
for an escape route, are ya’, sugar?”
    Sasha turned
from the view and laughed.
    “No, just
wishing I could join the Masters and Volmers down on the beach to watch instead
of sitting around, penned up, with nothing to do.”
    “Patience,
Sasha. I hear it’s a virtue.” Maisy’s smile held a hint of relief, as though
she actually thought Sasha might be having second thoughts.
    She’d have to
squelch that right away. “I just want to get the wedding part out of the way,
so we can get on with the marriage , you know?”
    “Everybody
knows. Once Leo suggested this place, you were like a whirling dervish, pulling
the whole thing together in a blink.”
    “That was mainly
Charlotte’s doing,” Sasha admitted. She’d called the resort in June, had spoken
to the septuagenarian wedding coordinator, and asked for the earliest possible
reception day.
    So here they
were, six months later. They’d rented the entire resort for the week between
Christmas and New Year’s Day and had set the wedding itself for New Year’s Eve.
She and Connelly would start the new year as newlyweds.
    “Just in a hurry
to get to the honeymoon, aren’t ya’?” Maisy waggled her eyebrows at Sasha.
    “Oh, please.
You’re one to talk, corrupting my sisters-in-law with your extensive knowledge
of rubbers.”
    Maisy tossed her
head back, closed her impossibly blue eyes, and gave a loud, throaty laugh.
    “Knowledge
that’s goin’ to waste around here, sadly. I shoulda brought a date. Who’m I
gonna kiss at midnight tomorrow?”
    Sasha arched a
brow and