Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) Read online

  Katrina jumps up and down again, clapping her hands. “I saw your dress!” she exclaims, reaching out to clasp my wrists. “It’s so pretty!”

  At least one of Nelson’s daughters is beyond excited about the wedding. I laugh, letting her spin me in a circle.

  Sadie detaches her and guides her toward the bedroom door. “Why don’t you two get changed so those dresses don’t get wrinkled before Saturday? Then I think your daddy has a surprise for you down by the pool.”

  Katrina skips into the bedroom, where the seamstress’s assistant is waiting.

  Rose lingers, touching Sadie’s arm. “Thank you, really,” she murmurs, a blush rising in her tanned cheeks.

  Sadie runs her fingers through Rose’s hair. “You’re more than welcome, honey. Now go on with your sister, so Carmella and I can talk about the boring stuff.”

  After the girls leave the honeymoon suite, Sadie ushers me into the bedroom. The first thing I notice is the large plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the desk, and my jaw drops when Sadie selects one and takes a huge bite.

  “Sadie Miller! What about pre-event chocolate detox?”

  “It’s not chocolate,” she says, her words muddled. “It’s fruit.”

  “Semantics.” I point to the plate. “I haven’t eaten a single piece of chocolate since you called to tell me you were getting married. Give me one.”

  Swallowing, Sadie almost snorts, but she chooses a huge strawberry and hands it over, along with a napkin to wipe the inevitable drips of juice from my chin. Giggling like Katrina, we each eat two more strawberries before the seamstress clears her throat, demanding our attention. After washing my hands and face of strawberry juice and chocolate smears, I join Sadie near the clothing rack.

  “There shouldn’t be too much to alter,” she says, watching the seamstress unzip a white garment bag. “I think I guessed your size pretty well.”

  “It hasn’t changed since college.” My eyes widen at the sight of fluttering turquoise chiffon. “Good thing I brought my silver sandals.”

  I reach one hand out to the dress, but before I can touch it, the seamstress’s assistant spins me around.

  “Down to your unmentionables,” she commands.

  My jaw slacks open and my face turns hot.

  Sadie chuckles and pushes the assistant away. “Chill out, Carmella. Just pretend you’re in a locker room.”

  Determined not to look like a total prude in front of the seamstress, but also determined not to spend too much time exposed in front of her, I quickly change into my dress. Sadie helps me with the small hidden zipper under my left arm. I want to check my reflection in the cheval mirror, but before I can turn, the seamstress starts prodding, tugging, and poking.

  “Thread,” she says to her assistant. “Arms out to the side, Miss Sannarelli.”

  My glance shoots to Sadie as I lift my arms parallel to the floor. “She’s gonna make the alterations right now?”

  Sadie shrugs, nibbling another strawberry. “Might as well. You’re here, she’s here, the thread’s here. It’ll save her time later this week.”

  A needle pokes my side, drawing a yelp.

  The seamstress glares. “Do. Not. Move.”

  It feels like hours go by before I’m allowed to lower my aching arms, but according to the little bedside clock, it’s only been about fifteen minutes. Wriggling to test the give of the fabric, I find it very comfortable. I’m dying to look in the mirror.

  Sadie steps behind me and pulls my hair back, clipping it in place. “Okay,” she says, pulling me backward by the shoulders and spinning me toward the mirror. “Now you can look.”

  Despite diligent application of sunblock, I’ve developed a tan over the past three days. A little extra color touches my cheeks, almost a sunburn, but it means I won’t have to use much makeup on Saturday. The turquoise of the dress pops against my tanned skin, and the cut of the silhouette is beyond flattering. The backless underdress is a light satin, fitted and lined over the bust, and overlaid with chiffon to create a dreamy, ethereal flutter every time I move. Gathered chiffon forms a Queen Anne neckline, then drapes elegantly down my back. Bands of fabric at the waist, studded with dark blue rhinestones, cinch the dress into an hourglass shape, and soft layers of chiffon drop to a handkerchief hem around my knees. The entire dress is spun with patterns in silver thread.

  “Oh, wow.” My whisper seems to express too little appreciation, but the seamstress smiles behind me and nods.

  Sadie hooks her arms around me from behind and rests her chin on my shoulder. “My dress is a similar style, but longer and white, of course. I ordered white hibiscus for your hair.”

  “Sadie, you have to let me pay you for this dress.”

  She blows a raspberry at me. “No. I already told you we’ve got it.”

  I spin around. “You have to let me reimburse you for something.”

  Sadie sticks her fingers in her ears. “I know you’re saying something ridiculous, but since I can’t hear you, I can ignore it.” Noticing my worried, petulant expression, she drops her hands. “Seriously, honey. You don’t need to pay for anything. I told you that up front. Nelson’s got everything covered. You being here is all the payment I need.”

  The seamstress tugs me away from the mirror. “Out of the dress, if you please, Miss Sannarelli. You’ll have it back on Friday morning after I secure the stitching and give it a good steam press.”

  The next couple days are a whirlwind of activity as Sadie involves me in every remaining aspect of wedding preparations. Between the final cake tasting—along with a fantastic tour of the resort’s kitchen, which ends with an hour long phone call between Tess and the head pastry chef—shopping excursions, and meals with every member of the wedding party, I have no time to breathe. On Wednesday afternoon, when I finally settle under a wide umbrella at Sadie’s bridal shower, it feels like I haven’t sat down since I arrived in St. Croix.

  “Can I sit with you?”

  I look up, shading my eyes, as Rose sidles up to me. She’s pretty in pink this afternoon, and the blush on her cheeks reveals how nervous and shy she must feel. She went on this morning’s shoe expedition, and we clicked.

  Patting the chair beside me, I smile. “Always room for one more.”

  Rose takes a seat. “I’m glad you and Sadie let me come along today.”

  “We’re glad you asked.”

  “Uncle Josh said I’d get along well with you.”

  At her comment, my glance shifts around the terrace and pool deck. Josh is nowhere in sight, thankfully. I haven’t really seen him, other than at dinner, since our trip into Christiansted. The thought of him talking me up to his niece makes me a little nervous.

  I clear my throat and turn to Rose. “Well, I think you and I have a lot in common. Where’s your sister?”

  “Daddy took Katrina out to lunch, since she’s too little for the bridal shower. She’d be bored listening to everyone talking.” She lifts one hand to her lips, nibbling her thumbnail for a second. “She wants to see Sadie’s presents, but she can wait till later.”

  I stifle a slight laugh. Rose will probably be bored, too, but she’s a little old to beg off completely. Leaning toward her, I ask about school and friends, the things a twelve-year-old would want to talk about. Sadie’s grateful glance catches mine across the terrace. Again, the lack of a glass in her hand catches my attention. Especially since just about every other woman is holding something to drink.

  Suddenly, Sadie breaks into a determined stride, heading for the end of the terrace.

  Rose shifts in her seat. “Who’s that?” she whispers, pointing subtly to the woman talking with Sadie in low tones.

  My level of surprise ratchets up a little more. “That’s Kate Miller. Sadie’s sister.”

  “Do I have t
o call her aunt?”

  “I don’t think so. Not unless you decide you want to.” A frown pinches between my eyebrows as Sadie says something, accompanied by an emphatic gesture, to her sister.

  Kate Miller hasn’t changed very much, even though it’s been six years since I last saw her. Though not as slender as Sadie, she has the same blond hair and blue eyes. But her face is harder, like she’s had more disappointments in life. I remember what Ryan told me, that Kate exchanged some choice words with Sadie at their family reunion. The expected tension is confirmed when Sadie actually wrings her hands.

  Their mom bustles across the terrace, intercepting the verbal sling visibly brewing on the tip of Kate’s tongue. Sadie’s shoulders sag in relief as she escapes.

  I lean toward Rose. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  She nods, and I try not to launch from my seat. I make it look natural as I stroll into Sadie’s path and hook my arm through her elbow.

  “You okay, Sadie-lady?”

  “Yeah.” Her jaw is stiff, and her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath.

  “I thought you said Kate wasn’t coming.”

  “Mom made me send an invitation, just to keep up appearances. I didn’t think she’d actually come.” She peeks over her shoulder and relaxes a little more. “It’s fine. She doesn’t want to be in the wedding or anything. And I’ll be too busy to notice her glaring at me the whole time.”

  We pause near the gift table. There are more cards in the basket than packages on the table, but her registry wasn’t extensive. She and Nelson probably have most of what they need or want already.

  I finger the frilly ribbon on a flat, silver-wrapped package. “So what happened that made you not want her here in the first place?”

  “She said some stuff at the family reunion. About Ryan and me, and about me taking Mom’s side in the divorce.” Her voice is almost inaudible. “I didn’t want to take sides, and really I never did. She just assumed. I wanted my dad to be the one to give me away. But after some of what Kate said, I felt like I couldn’t ask him.”

  I take a small step back and rub her arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She gives me a shaky smile. “But just so you know, you might want to steer clear.”

  “Of Kate? Why?”

  She meets my confused gaze and sighs. “She’s just a big wrecking ball these days.”

  Before I can ask for clarification, she tugs me toward the two chairs set up near the gift table, then beckons everyone around.

  “It’s time to open gifts!”

  The assorted women on the terrace gather their chairs close. Rose snuggles up on a wicker loveseat with her grandmother, which makes me feel better about leaving her to tend to Sadie. Most of the faces are unfamiliar, wives of Nelson’s business associates who are attending the wedding. I presume they’ll also be frequent guests of the Mattinglys following the wedding. Good thing Sadie likes to entertain and knows how.

  But despite their easy laughter and glittering smiles, these women aren’t Sadie’s friends. I wonder if even her mother knows her all that well.

  Come to think of it, I can’t really attest to being an expert on Sadie Miller anymore either. Up until about a month ago, I could have told you anything about her and been completely right. She’s always been flighty and airheaded. But never the sort you’d expect to ditch someone all but at the altar and elope with someone else.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Kate Miller’s narrow-eyed glare pins me for a moment. I shiver, suddenly cold in the tropical heat. I’m not sure why she would hold any animosity toward me. Maybe she’s just pissed about the whole situation, but if that’s the case, she shouldn’t have come.

  With a deep breath, I vow to ignore her glares and grumbles, pluck the nearest gift off the table, and hand it to Sadie.

  A chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” accompany the reveal of each gift. Crystal champagne flutes for the wedding toast. A set of picture frames studded with what could be real diamond flakes. A racy negligee that makes poor Rose bury her face in her grandmother’s shoulder.

  The last gift I hand over is the flat one in silver paper, and while Sadie laughs and tears the package open, I gather the envelopes in the card basket.

  “Oh, Carmella, honey!”

  Eyebrows raised, I turn back as Sadie holds up a brightly colored platter, the scalloped edges sculpted to look like leaping dolphins. It’s the first genuine grin I’ve seen on her face since the bridal shower started.

  My jaw drops. That’s the exact platter I tried to order, but couldn’t. It was unavailable by the time I got to it.

  Sadie turns to the other women, who seem less than impressed with the platter and the bride’s enthusiastic reaction to it. “Carmella totally gets my style.” Then she smile sweetly at me again. “Thank you!”

  “I didn’t―”

  I didn’t order anything off her registry, especially not that platter. And I’d been feeling horrible about it. The saving grace was that Ryan was the only other person who knew about the platter, that Sadie wanted it, and I hadn’t ordered it in time.

  Ryan.

  He had to have done it. Ordered it and put my name on the gift card. Why would he do something like this? Maybe to help me save face, or maybe because it’s the last time he could give Sadie something she wanted. Of course he couldn’t put his own name on the card.

  My lips pull into a grin, even though my face feels hot from embarrassment. “I didn’t think it’d get here in time.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Rose pipes up. “It will be fun to use at parties.”

  To mask my thoughts, I drop into the chair next to Sadie and pass her the first of the cards in my hand. The offending platter is whisked out of sight, but all I can think of is texting Ryan when I have a chance to find out if my suspicions are true.

  Chapter 12

  Change of Plans

  On Friday morning, Sadie plops down next to me at my poolside table, where I sit slathering jam on a croissant and trying to decide what to do with today’s downtime. I’m glad for the break in activities. Last night’s bachelorette party went until almost two, and I expect tonight’s rehearsal dinner to stretch into the wee hours as well.

  The bride is bright-eyed, however, and practically bouncing in her seat as she waits for me to finish chewing my first bite. Once I swallow, she releases a squeal and claps her hands. “You’ll never guess!”

  Between the lack of sleep and the daiquiris I consumed, my disposition is the exact opposite of Sadie’s. In general, I don’t do late night parties. I’m a strict bed-by-eleven girl, even on the weekends.

  “Guess what?” I grumble.

  She sighs and props her chin in her hands. “Nelson was able to get the yacht.”

  “There’s a yacht?”

  “It’s huge, it can hold all two hundred wedding guests with room to spare.”

  I choke, and Sadie calmly pours a glass of orange juice. Slurping down enough to clear my throat, I set down my croissant and hold up one hand. “I thought this was supposed to be a small, intimate wedding on the beach. That’s what you told me when you called last month.”

  “Well . . .” She taps her fingernails on the table. “Originally it was. But when we announced the wedding, Nelson started getting all sorts of congratulatory calls and emails from business associates. And he feels like he can’t snub them by making it family only.”

  There’s no point in reminding her she was ready to put that same snub on her sister. “Are you okay with that?”

  “Sure, I guess.” She shrugs. “At the end of the day, as long as I get to say ‘I do’, it doesn’t matter where I say it. Beach or boat.”

  I take another sip of juice while I formulate my thoughts. “But is it really what you want? And, Sadie-lady, don�
��t take this the wrong way. Not just the wedding on the yacht thing. But the whole lifestyle you’re marrying into.”

  A slight frown creeps across her face as she leans back in her chair. I almost retract the question, but then I realize she’s thinking about it.

  “Yes.”

  I lean forward. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I want all of it.” She grins and pushes her sunglasses up like a tiara. “I do have an inkling of what it’s all going to mean. I’ve been here for a month and a half now, so I’ve seen Nelson’s lifestyle. He’s rich, but he’s not a high-roller like you’re thinking. He is a dad, after all. It’s not diamonds and champagne twenty-four-seven.”

  “That reminds me. I haven’t seen you take a single sip of alcohol since I got here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  My gaze drops to the pitcher of orange juice. “You’ve always liked to party. You were in a sorority in college. I’ve never seen you at a social event without a drink in your hand.”

  “Oh.” She sighs and fiddles with her ring. Sunlight catches the giant diamond, and flashes of light dance on her cheeks. “I guess I just don’t see the point anymore.”

  “You changed your habits that fast?”

  “Nelson’s not a big drinker either.”

  I shrug. “If you say so. I’ve seen him drink this week.”

  “But maybe only one or two at dinner, right?” Her earnest glance meets mine. “You thought he was using alcohol to keep me here, didn’t you?”

  Heat rushes into my face. “I never said―”