A Chance Wedding (The Inn at Dune Island—Book Seven) by Fiona Grace

Author:Fiona Grace [Grace, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2024-05-28T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

April's fingers danced across the laptop keyboard, with a rhythm less like a waltz and more akin to a frenetic tap dance. Outside, rain pelted the windows of the bed and breakfast with a persistence that matched her own attempt to tackle the ever-growing pile of emails. With every ping of an incoming message, a tiny crease etched itself deeper between her brows. They weren't just emails; they were incessant reminders of expectations and demands, each one needling at her composure.

The storm outside mirrored the mounting chaos in April's mind. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room, casting long shadows that seemed to play out the discord within her. She tried to focus on the screen, but her thoughts were relentless, swirling like the leaves caught in the wind’s furious embrace outside.

Her mother's voice echoed in her head, a litany of frets about the wedding details, the plans that needed firming up, the questions that demanded answers. It was as if her mother believed that by sheer force of will—and an endless stream of words—she could stave off any potential disaster.

And then there was her father, a man whose appetite for laughter often led him to seek out the next joke or amusing anecdote, as though life was a stage and he the perennial entertainer. His antics, meant to lighten the mood, only served as a stark contrast to the tension that gripped the house.

A gust of wind rattled the panes, drawing April’s gaze towards the window just as another thought intruded: Julia and Chloe. The sisters, bound by blood yet divided by grievances, had turned every shared space into a battlefield. Their voices, raised in anger, had become a dissonant soundtrack to the weekend, overshadowing the harmonious future April had envisioned.

The wedding—the supposed celebration of unity—loomed in her consciousness, its very essence now marred by doubt and uncertainty. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, willing away the image of what was meant to be the happiest day of her life, crumbling beneath the weight of familial discord.

April blinked back to attention, her hands pausing above the keys. Was it truly possible for something so joyous to feel so utterly disappointing? The tempest raged on, indifferent to her problems, as if to remind her that nature cared little for human plans.

April's fingers hovered listlessly over the keyboard, a cursor blinking amid a sea of half-answered emails. The drone of the storm outside played a dreary symphony against the glass, mirroring the chaos that brewed within her. She pushed away from the desk, the chair rolling back with a whisper against the old wooden floorboards of the bed and breakfast.

She rose and paced to the window, pressing a palm against the cool surface, watching as rivulets of rain traced haphazard paths down the pane. How simple they made it seem to follow a course laid out without care for perfection. April had never yearned for the flawless ceremony that bridal magazines flaunted; she only craved a day suffused with love—an honest celebration of the journey she and Jackson had chosen together.

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