A Kiss Would Taste Even Better

“SOME WEDDING,” Sabrina Bliss said to her sister. “I nearly lost it when the minister got to the ‘till death do us part’ part.” Mackenzie would understand what she meant.

“That’s why I pinched you!” Mackenzie tried to put on a scolding face, but warm laughter bubbled up instead. “It’s so rude to laugh in the middle of a wedding ceremony.”

Sabrina smiled, feeling oddly light and cheerful despite her doubts about the marriage. “You’ll notice I didn’t object, either.”

Mackenzie blinked. “Do you have objections?”

“Mmm…no, not really.”

“But you’re not optimistic.”

Sabrina tucked her fist beneath her chin, fingers tightening around the small velvet box in her palm. She should give it up, but…she just wasn’t sure about letting go.

“You know I don’t believe in fairy-tale endings,” she said.

Sabrina and Mackenzie had come out onto the balcony of the Fontaine Hotel to catch a quiet moment together, away from the reception. They’d found their newlywed parents, Charlie and Nicole Bliss, dancing beneath the starry sky on one of the brick paths of the hotel’s rose garden. Light and music spilled from the open French doors, dappling the scene with a particularly picturesque version of romance.

Bah, humbug, Sabrina thought, without much conviction. Her emotions were too close to the surface. Luckily she had plenty of experience in not letting them show.

Mackenzie was the opposite. And clearly a goner. She’d welled up throughout the ceremony, and now her gaze was pinned on their parents, her big dark eyes shining with hope.

A couple of months ago, Charlie and Nicole Bliss had confessed to their daughters that they’d never quite managed to fall out of love despite their divorce of long standing. They’d decided to give marriage another try. Sabrina and Mackenzie had been stunned. Aside from the occasional family Christmas dinner or birthday party, they hadn’t known that their parents were seeing each other. Naturally, Mackenzie found it all so touching and romantic. Sabrina wasn’t as ready to forget the perils of the rancorous divorce, even though it had taken place sixteen years ago, when she was thirteen. And she sure didn’t want to be around if the shrapnel started to fly again.

“Maybe it’s not a fairy-tale ending,” Mackenzie said softly. “Maybe it’s real.”

“Ha.” Sabrina raised a champagne glass to her lips. “When reality hits, I give them six months.”

Mackenzie wrapped a hand around her sister’s arm. She squeezed, making Sabrina wish she could take back her words. Mackenzie was a squeezer, a patter, a cheerer-upper. And a very good friend. They’d been apart for too long. Mackenzie was settled in New York City while Sabrina went wherever whim took her.

“You’re so cynical, Breen,” she said, reverting to the family nickname.

Did that mean they were a family again?

Sabrina shrugged. While she might have her doubts about her parents, Mackenzie was as reliable as a rock. The sisters had very different personalities, but they’d turned to each other for comfort after the divorce and had been close ever since, even when separated by thousands of miles.

“Look at the divorce statistics,” Mackenzie continued. “If half of all marriages fail, then Mom and Dad already have their divorce over and done with. This marriage is practically a sure thing.”

Sabrina scoffed. “Your numbers are skewed. I’d definitely double down on that bet.” She’d learned the lingo in Reno, where she’d once worked as a cocktail waitress after a stage magician had fired her for screaming bloody murder during a botched saw trick. “Here I thought logic was your strong suit.”

“This isn’t about logic. You’ve got to have faith.”

“Faith? How?”

Mackenzie gazed past the balcony to their parents. “Look at them. Tell me your heart doesn’t melt.”

Sabrina held the ring box in one hand and sipped champagne from the glass in the other, brooding over the sight of her parents exchanging whispers and kisses after all these years. They were a study in contrasts, much like their daughters. Charlie Bliss was tall and sandy-haired, prone to daydreaming and wild, irresponsible schemes. Nicole was as short, round and stable as Mackenzie, but not as gentle. She could be a bulldozer.

Sabrina truly wished them the best. But whatever faith she had had been left behind years ago, dug deep into the bottom of the backpack she’d lugged between their houses after the divorce.

Six months was generous, she decided. It wouldn’t be too much of a shock if they were arguing on the honeymoon cruise, when Charlie wanted to go para-sailing and Nicole chose to snorkel. Every little thing had once been a battle. The arguments were still familiar.

“Sure, they seem devoted,” Sabrina admitted. A spring breeze whipped up and stole the words “for now…” from her lips. Loose pink rose petals from the swags draped over the balcony railing scattered like confetti. Cream satin ribbons fluttered.

Below, Nicole’s delighted laughter rang out as Charlie removed the jacket of his tux and draped it over her shoulders. He used it to pull her toward his kiss.

Mackenzie sighed. “See that?”

Sabrina nodded, watching. Even her heart had melted…a little. Then the wind came again and she shivered in her whisper-of-silk slip dress. Ever practical and prepared, Mackenzie hooked an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders, sharing her pink cashmere wrap and her body warmth. Mackenzie was a home-and-hearth kind of girl. Sabrina was long and lean, built for running.

She was good at that. But then why was she still clutching the ring box so tightly?

Mackenzie stirred. “Doesn’t it make you think, Breen?”

“Think what?”

“Mom and Dad aren’t afraid to go for it. We shouldn’t be, either.”

Sabrina drew away. “What are you talking about? Love? Marriage? Me? Not on your life!”

Making a tutting noise, Mackenzie pulled off the wrap and arranged it around her sister. Her long hair covered her own shoulders like a cape. It was beautiful—waist-length, thick and wavy, the color of dark chocolate. She’d been wearing it in the same plain style since she was ten. “No, Sabrina. I mean change. Transformation, renewal, starting over—whatever you want to call it. Change would do us both good.”