Love on Beach Avenue (The Sunshine Sisters #1) - Jennifer Probst
Chapter One
“If anyone objects to this marriage, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”
Avery Alyssa Sunshine stood at the back of the church, her practiced gaze sweeping over the large crowd sitting in the pews. The church was small and intimate, with soaring ceilings and elaborate stained-glass windows, giving the guests a taste of old-school religion and tradition. The lilies were creamy white and bursting with bloom. The faint scent of incense hung in the air. And her bride looked perfect—from the flowing trail of her sheer lace veil to the elaborate pearl-encrusted train that filled the chancel. The bride and groom gazed at each other with evident love, their beaming faces a reminder of why she loved her job as a wedding planner.
And then it happened.
“I object.” The lone male voice boomed in the air.
The crowd gasped, and the bride jerked around, china-blue eyes filled with horror.
No. No, no, no . . .
Dressed in a sharp black suit, the man stood up, arms extended as if in a last-minute plea, which it was. Avery glimpsed only the back of his head, his golden-blond hair a bit long and brushing the nape of his neck. “Susan, I tried to move on, but you’re the only one I’ve ever loved. I can’t let you marry him if there’s still a chance for us.”
For one endless, horrifying moment, everything went dead quiet. Avery froze, her mind unable to compute this disaster since it was brand new and fell under the heading of Shit That Hasn’t Happened Yet, Thank God.
Nothing like an on-the-job education.
The bride’s face turned from horror to fury. Her teeth ground together, and her perfect rosy complexion flushed dark red. “You bastard!” she hissed through the delicate veil. “You cheated on me.”
Another gasp from the crowd. The priest’s jaw dropped. It was like the entire church was filming a rom-com and everyone knew their lines except Avery.
Oh, hell no. This was not going to become a Runaway Bride situation. Not on her watch.
She whipped out her phone and sent the text her sisters dreaded: Code Red. Code Red in the church.
The groom dropped his future wife’s hand and shot her a puzzled look. “Baby, who is this guy? Do you still have feelings for him?”
Avery shot into action, knowing there was precious little time to save the wedding. Launching down the aisle in her three-inch heels, she reached the interloper in seconds, and before he could make another earth-shattering plea, she firmly yet politely placed a hand on his arm. “Sir, please come with me,” she said quietly, smile pasted in place. “Let’s talk about this in private.”
The bride let out a distressed cry, and the sudden hushed dialogue between the bride and groom echoed from the high ceilings and bounced straight to the ears of the crowd. Right on cue, Avery’s sister Bella popped out of the private room to the side of the altar and headed toward the organist. Within seconds, the beautiful strains of “Ave Maria” floated in the air, followed by the singer’s soaring soprano.
Avery prayed the interloper wouldn’t fight her—she didn’t want to tackle the guy in the aisle—but he seemed to realize actually breaking up a wedding wasn’t as much fun as in the movies. With a ducked head, he began to follow her out of the church.
Whispering soothing phrases to the cheater, she guided him into the small room where the brides are usually held before the ceremony, and shut the door behind them. She pointed to the bench. “Have a seat. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name?”
The man rubbed his head with both hands, messing up his too-long hair even more. “Ben Larson. I’ve known Susan since college. We promised to marry each other, but I was too young. I think we’re meant to be together.”
Her mind clicked through the guest list, snagged on the name, and brought up her mental notes. Ben Larson—an old college friend who’d broken up with her after college and recently reconnected. He helped out her mother, who’d pressured Susan to invite him. Was supposed to attend with his girlfriend.
Dammit. She hadn’t seen a red flag on this one.
The slight scent of beer on his breath indicated he’d had a few before the ceremony. A disjointed puzzle slowly came together: Ben breaks up with his current girlfriend. Feels sentimental, maybe a bit scared over still being alone. Has too much to drink, decides to attend the wedding alone, and in a spectacular, stupid move, impulsively