Where chance meets choice, lies Happily Ever AfterâŠ
Youâre cordially invited to Delaney and Daltonâs Cape May weddingâif it happens.
Delaney is a successful criminal attorney who leaves nothing to chance. All she wanted was a simple seaside wedding, but as countdown to the big day begins, her well-laid plans unravel and their love is put to the test. Even Mother Natureâs RSVP of a tempestuous plus-one canât match the turmoil of an unbridled Groomzilla, whose life-altering secret may veer this love story to Happily Never After before they can say, âI Donâtâ.
Join their guests, each seeking their own version of happily ever, Love Actually-style.
A seashell in the pocket of an old hoodie forces maid of honor Kate to question her lifeâs choices, when an accidental phone switch dials her into someone completely unexpected.
Free-spirited Cleo doesnât believe in love or destiny, until a stranger changes her beliefs about the past, and her hopes for the future.
Aspiring attorney Marley is soon to be engaged to her longtime boyfriend but canât stop thinking about the one man with whom she doesnât stand a chanceâher best friend.
Save the date! You never know what the nightâand destinyâhave in store.
Where chance meets choice, lies Happily Ever AfterâŠ
Youâre cordially invited to Delaney and Daltonâs Cape May weddingâif it happens.
Delaney is a successful criminal attorney who leaves nothing to chance. All she wanted was a simple seaside wedding, but as countdown to the big day begins, her well-laid plans unravel and their love is put to the test. Even Mother Natureâs RSVP of a tempestuous plus-one canât match the turmoil of an unbridled Groomzilla, whose life-altering secret may veer this love story to Happily Never After before they can say, âI Donâtâ.
Join their guests, each seeking their own version of happily ever, Love Actually-style.
A seashell in the pocket of an old hoodie forces maid of honor Kate to question her lifeâs choices, when an accidental phone switch dials her into someone completely unexpected.
Free-spirited Cleo doesnât believe in love or destiny, until a stranger changes her beliefs about the past, and her hopes for the future.
Aspiring attorney Marley is soon to be engaged to her longtime boyfriend but canât stop thinking about the one man with whom she doesnât stand a chanceâher best friend.
Save the date! You never know what the nightâand destinyâhave in store.
DELANEY
Delaney Ross rushed along the narrow side streets of Center City Philadelphia toward the Criminal Justice Center, where a judge was about to render a decision in the most important case of her career. The judge was known for berating tardy attorneys, so she had to get there before he emerged from his chambers and ripped her a new one.
The race was on.
She was two blocks away when she suddenly found herself airborne. Her briefcase took off on a flight of its own, slamming into the head of an unsuspecting passerby.
âWhat the hell!â the man screamed.
Delaney touched down on all fours at the corner of Twelfth and Spruce, while one of her stilettos, stuck between two cobblestones, mocked her from nearly half a block away.
âSon of a bitch,â she muttered. Sheâd walked out of her own shoe. Flown, more like it.
She tried to stand, but the narrow hem of her pencil skirt showed no mercy. Her only hope was to crawl to the nearest sturdy objectâin this case, a bus shelterâto hoist herself up. She knew better than to request assistance from any of the day-dwelling city zombies stepping over her as they went about their business. She could have set herself on fire and no one would have flinched.
Except for the obscenity-spewing briefcase victim marching toward her.
âOh. You,â he sneered, looking down at her. âI should have known.â
Delaney ignored him as she crawled to the shelter like a newborn giraffe trying to stand.
He continued. âYou can beg and crawl all you want, Ross, but Iâm not dropping charges, especially after that vicious attack.â
Delaney glanced up at the amused expression of her opposing counsel, Assistant District Attorney Wells Abernathy III. Who, mercifully, held out his hand and helped her up.
She hobbledâone leg four inches higher than the otherâback to the offending shoe, tugging and freeing it from its mortared grasp. The heel was still affixed but wobbly at best. Great. Sheâd have to hopscotch to court on one foot. Could this day get better?
Wells handed her the felonious briefcase and chuckled. âI should keep this weapon as evidence of your wanton disregard for human life.â
âFunny, you calling yourself human,â Delaney said, wincing at the pain in her left knee.
âI wasnât the one crawling on all fours.â
Delaney smoothed her espresso-hued French twist, glared at him, and brushed by without a word.
He fell into step beside her. She hobbled faster. Wells kept pace.
âIs this a race? Donât bother, Ross. You donât have a leg to stand on. Or shall I say shoe?â
âBuzz off, Wells. Arenât there any other women you could be accosting right now?â
âHow about your friend Cleo?â he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
âShe wouldnât be caught dead with someone like you.â
âHow can you be so certain?â
âHer frontal cortex is fully intact.â
Delaney usually enjoyed their competitive and strictly professional (now, anyway) relationship. She respected him as an attorney and a prosecutor, but not when heâd been instrumental in jamming up her innocent client with a bogus murder rap.
âItâs not too late to withdraw your motion,â he said.
âWithdraw this.â She flipped him the bird.
âNo wonder I broke up with you. Way too competitive.â
âHave you suffered a recent blow to the head?â She chuckled at her own joke. âOh, yeah. You did. And it was the other way around.â
âRewrite history if you must. I have to say, though, your hope for a positive outcome on this case is amusing. No way the judge is ruling in your favor.â
âWeâll see about that.â
Delaney picked up speed and the two hobble-raced the rest of the way. They reached the large glass doors of the courthouse in a decided tie and shuffled in with the horde of justice-involved humanity. She was just grateful her heel didnât snap off, or she may have had to hitch a piggyback ride from him.
The courtroom was abuzz with spectators and participants. Delaney juked a byline-hungry reporter who tried to tackle her into an interview, until she finally made it to the courtâs end zone beyond the rail separating lawyers from the rest of the world. She found her two interns waiting at counsel table.
Marley handed her a notepad while Sam poured water into a glass from a stainless-steel pitcher.
âPlease tell me thatâs prosecco,â she joked as she took the glass.
âWell, if anyone can turn water into wine, itâs Sam,â Marley said.
âHow about water into a Band-Aid?â Sam pointed to her knee. âYour legâs bleeding!â
âIâm fine.â Delaney waved him off and grabbed a tissue from the box on the table to blot it. âI just bumped into something.â
âThe side of a bus?â Sam chuckled. âIt hurts me just to look at it.â
âThe judge should be out in a few. Is there anything you need us to do?â Marley asked.
âPray for a miracle,â Delaney said, handing Marley her phone and briefcase. âAnd, listen, however this turns out, I appreciate all the work you both put into this case.â
âOur pleasure, boss. Weâll be back here if you need us,â Sam said as their client was led to the table by a deputy sheriff.
The interns found seats in the gallery. Delaney began jotting notes in preparation for the decision when Marley returned a few seconds later.
âItâs Dalton,â she said, handing Delaney her phone.
âIâll call him later.â
âHe says itâs urgent.â
Delaney sighed. She knew better than to take a call in a courtroom, but Dalton, unaware she was back in court, would probably keep calling until she answered.
âSup?â Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, she flipped a page of her notepad.
Daltonâs serenading voice flooded her ear as he began singing âChapel of Love.â Delaney smiled through mounting annoyance.
âDaltonââ
âListen,â he said. âIâve been calm, cool, and collected, but we need to make a final decision about the menu. Are we going with the charcuterie table or a cheesesteak bar?â
Dalton had been neither calm, cool, nor collected. In fact, heâd embraced his wedding duties with such freewheeling enthusiasm, heâd transitioned from a mild-mannered, non-opinionated groom into a rip-roaring, unbridled Groomzilla. Almost overnight.
Sheâd had no choice but to get Dalton involved in last-minute details. Sheâd been working on a major post-conviction relief case through the Innocence Project. Newly discovered evidence suggested her client, whoâd been convicted of murder, wasnât the perpetrator. She and her team had presented a motion to the court that morning requesting a new hearing based on the evidence, which, if successful, could ultimately result in the dismissal of charges. With her clientâs life hanging in the balance, Delaney couldnât focus on anything else, including the wedding. Enter Dalton, whose only task was simply to tie up a few loose ends. Instead, he unraveled and retied them into big, fancy bows.
First, it was the guest list. What began as an intimate affair became a grandiose gala after he added ten coworkers, twelve frat brothers, and his entire college football offensive line. He also dissed the DJ theyâd decided upon, hiring his friendâs band instead with a drunkenly scribbled (yet legally enforceable) contract on a cocktail napkin. Then, it was the tuxes. Dalton tried on twenty before he found âthe one.â Who knew tux selection could single-handedly make or break the entire event? (Spoiler: Groomzillas know.)
Now here he was, trying to trump her charcuterie board with cheesesteaks. Enough was enough.
Dalton began singing again about going to the chapel and getting married, when the thick wooden door to the judgeâs chambers burst open and a looming, black-gowned figure emerged. Dispensing with formalities, Delaney shoved the phone in her lap and ended the call. Or so she thought.
âAll rise!â
Delaney leaped from her seat, forgetting her phone was a projectile waiting to happen. And boy, did it happen. She watched, horrified, as it flung from her lap and skidded across the marble floor. She shot a look at the judge to see if he noticed. He didnât, or so it seemed.
Bullet = dodged.
âBe seated,â the bailiff instructed.
The rustling of sitting bodies subsided, and the room fell silent. The judge cleared his throat andâ
From the phone on the floor of Courtroom 1A, the serenading voice of Delaneyâs betrothed filled the eerily silent room.
Delaney gasped. She hadnât ended the call.
Sheâd put it on speaker.
Staring straight ahead, she pretended not to hear Daltonâs pitch-perfect refrain, or the fact that, for this rendition, heâd added the word âcheesesteaksâ to the lyrics. She surreptitiously slid her stilettoed foot forward, hoping to pull the phone closer, but only managed to kick it farther away, and closer to the judge. Dalton continued crooning.
The judge peeled off his glasses and glared into the gallery. âWhoeverâs going to the chapel for cheesesteaks better silence that phone immediately,â he barked.
Ad now, a moral dilemma: fetch the phone and fess up, or freeze and feign ignorance in re: ownership of said phone? Retrieving it would be an absolute admission of guilt and a potential death knell for her case. As an attorney, she was expected to be a zealous advocate for her client, and fessing would fling her client, and their case, under the judicial bus.
Then again (light bulb!) she could swivel dramatically in her chair and cast a Stern Look toward the gallery in an Oscar-worthy performance as Innocent and Mildly Disgusted Attorney. Sheâd been cast as the lead in her high school musical and felt confident in her acting chops, a necessary skill for any litigator. Surely she could cast convincing blame on another.
But as an attorney, she was considered an officer of the court with an ethical duty to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truthâso help her the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania Disciplinary Board.
She opened her mouth and prepared to hurl herself on the mercy of the court.
âIâm sorry, Your Honor,â came a voice from behind her.
Delaney swiveled in her chair as Marley breezed through the swinging half door and rushed forward, auburn curls bouncing with determination.
âThis is my phone,â she proclaimed.
Marley swooped down to retrieve the phone and froze when the judge scowled at her. She stared back, emerald eyes wide, as if she were Bambi in the middle of a NASCAR track and had just realized the risk sheâd taken.
Nonetheless, she held her composure, along with her bowels, and with the confidence of a person thrice her age, said, âWith all due respect, Your Honor, I beg the courtâs forgiveness.â
Then she half curtsied like a court jester and hightailed it out of the courtroomâjuggling her files, the phone, and the huge set of cojones sheâd just earned.
Gratitude coursed through Delaneyâs veins. Marley Maguire was the best intern an attorney could hope for, and Delaney vowed to pay her back, big time, for throwing herself on the sword of judicial disdain. With a brand spankinâ new Beamer. Or something. Maybe just lunch.
The judge spoke. âIn the matter of Commonwealth versus Rupert James, after consideration of the motion filed by the defendant, the Commonwealthâs response and legal arguments of counsel, I hereby find the defendant is entitled to an evidentiary hearing.â
âYes!â Sam exclaimed.
Internally, Delaney shared Samâs enthusiasm but made a mental note to remind him he was on a legal team, not a cheer squad.
âThank you, Ms. Ross,â Rupert said, voice cracking as his eyes filled with tears. Her client shook her hand with vigor. âYouâve given me hope.â
The judge continued. âDue to the serious nature of the charges and the public scrutiny of this case, Iâm scheduling this hearing for my nearest available date, which isâŠâ
The judge flipped through his calendar. âMonday, June twenty-sixth.â
Delaney tried to register the date. June what? It was already June, so it was happening soon. Why did that date seem familiar?
âIâm assuming both parties will be ready to go?â the judge asked.
Without missing a beat, the assistant district attorney leaped to his feet and announced with magnanimous aplomb, âYes, sir. The Commonwealth will be ready.â
Wells tried to nail the role of Prosecutor Who Just Won His Case but failed. While his performance may have fooled most, it didnât Delaney, who caught the flicker of defeat flash across his face. The ruling was a setback for the hotshot prosecutor with aspirations to someday become Phillyâs top law enforcer.
But why did it also look like he was gloating?
âJune twenty-sixth it is.â The judge banged his gavel and barked, âCourt is hereby dismissed.â
âMy God,â Delaney said, as she looked down at her planner and confirmed her fears. It was smack dab in the middle of her two-week honeymoon.
The judge rose. âIs there something defense counsel wishes to say?â She shot a look at Wells, hoping heâd throw her a bone and reconsider his readiness. They were friends, despite being courtroom adversaries (not to mention the Briefcase v. Wells incident earlier). He knew she was getting married this monthâyes, to the man she broke up with him for, but the statute of limitations for pettiness had run out. Time for bygones.
Delaney widened her eyes at Wells, willing him to say something. Wells, friend-turned-courtroom-foe, merely shrugged.
âUmâŠâ Delaney tapped her pen on the table. Should she request a new date, or suck it up and shorten their honeymoon?
âWhat is it, Ms. Ross?â Rupert asked.
Delaney looked into the tired eyes of her client. She was a steward of his freedom, and heâd spent over a decade in jail for a crime he didnât commit. It would be immoral to prolong his misery just so she could float around the Caribbean for an additional week.
Dalton would understand. He respected her work ethic and wouldnât want her to risk her reputationâmore importantly, someoneâs freedomâby delaying a case in favor of an indulgent two-week honeymoon. Theyâd still have a week to bask in tropical paradise.
âYes, your honor. The defense will be ready.â
âGood.â The judge nodded, then turned to the bailiff as he pointed to her leg. âSomeone get her a Band-Aid.â
Back at her office, Delaney found her phone on her desk with a Post-it note from Marley to call Dalton, the word âurgentâ underlined three times. She ignored it. Everything was urgent with Groomzilla these days.
Delaney pulled the clip from her French twist and a river of dark-chocolate hair cascaded down her back. She texted Dalton and suggested they meet for a late dinner, then summoned the interns for a meeting.
She broke the news about the hearing date to Marley, who arrived first.
âWow,â Marley exclaimed. âWhat are you going to do?â
âI have no choice, I have to come back. And Wells just emailed, requesting a meeting tomorrow. Can you and Sam can handle it?â
âOf course. No need to worry about anything, we got it. You just enjoy your wedding and whatâs left of your honeymoon.â
âSpeaking of the wedding, who are you bringing?â Delaney asked as she forwarded his email.
âMy boyfriend, Rick?â
It sounded more like a question than an answer. Sheâd forgotten about Marleyâs boyfriend. âSorry, bride brain! Who is Sam bringing?â
âI have no idea. Nor does Sam.â
Delaney was disappointed Marley and Sam werenât coming together. She wondered if theyâd ever considered dating. Theyâd make a cute coupleâshe had a little Emma Stone thing going on, and he looked as if heâd just waded in from the pages of Surfer magazine.
âWhere does Rick live, again?â
âOhio. He works for an IT start-up in Columbus.â
âThatâs right. Long distance relationships are fun, arenât they?â Delaney asked, smirking. âHowâs it working?â
âWe try to visit on weekends at least once a month. And we do a week at the shore every year, which is where Iâll be next week. Speaking of which, are you sure itâs okay I take off, with the hearing so soon?â
âOf course, you deserve it. I know how important it is to have that time together. Dalton and I did the long-distance thing when we first got together. Thank God he was able to transfer to his firmâs Philly office after we got engaged.â
âI donât mind the distance, especially having a year of law school left. Itâs easier to focus with him not here.â
âWhat happens after you graduate?â
âWeâre trying to figure that out.â
A slight grimace flashed across Marleyâs face, so subtle most people wouldnât notice. But Delaney had honed the skill of reading people, and something told her all wasnât quiet on the Midwestern front.
Sam entered the room then, flashing a dimpled smile as he settled into a chair and man-crossed his legs. âCongrats, boss, I knew youâd do it.â
âWe did it. Weâre a team. Itâs your victory too.â
âBut the true winner was Dalton and his courtroom serenade,â Sam said. âSomeone alert American Idol.â
âHoly crap,â Delaney exhaled, cupping her forehead. âI saw my whole career flash before my eyes.â
âMarleyâs too,â Sam said. âI was like, girlâare you trying not to practice law in the future?â
âI owe you big time, Marley. You really saved my butt.â
After replaying the daring court caper and waging bets on Marleyâs questionable future as an attorney in good standing, they got down to business. Marley pulled her shoulder-length curls into a loose bun and scribbled away on her legal pad as Delaney outlined tasks for the interns to accomplish in her absence.
The meeting concluded just as Jim Howe, one of the firmâs founding partners, tapped on the door.
âThereâs my favorite associate,â he said. âCongrats on the win. Just wanted to stop by and tell you to enjoy this time off.â
A wave of panic swept through her. It must have shown on her face.
âI mean it. You have a whole team here to help,â Jim said. âWhatâs the countdown?â
âNine days,â Delaney said. Why did she feel so panicked? Everything was set. Except a minor change in honeymoon plans. And the Great Charcuterie Debate.
âLetâs just hope this thing doesnât become a hurricane,â Jim said as he headed toward the door.
âWait, what thing?â Delaney shot up from her chair.
Jim turned back slowly. Delaney waited for him to laugh and say he was pulling her leg, but the look on his face told her he wasnât joking.
âPlease tell me thereâs no hurricane,â Delaney said.
âI hate to say it, butââ
âThereâs no hurricane,â Marley interrupted Sam and waved the men off as if they were silly toddlers rambling on about monsters under the bed.
âBut Mar, the Weather Channelââ Delaney caught the comment-cutting glare Marley shot Sam.
âThen again,â Sam said, shrugging, âitâs rare for hurricanes to come this far north in June.â
âI hope youâre right,â she said.
âHeâs right,â Jim said, clearing his throat. âNo need to worry.â
And then Delaney proceeded to worry, because thatâs what happens when someone says not to. A hurricane was the last thing she needed.
The final head count was in, and Mother Nature wasnât on the guest list.
MARLEY
Marley had just returned to her office after the meeting with Delaney and Sam when her boyfriend, Rick, called.
âHey, hon,â he mumbled.
âWhatâs up?â she asked. âYou sound stressed.â
âI am.â He sighed. âOur deadline just got pushed up two weeks.â
For the last few months, Rickâs team had been working overtime to complete a complicated project.
âThat sucks,â Marley said.
âIâm so sorry, but I canât take off next week.â
Her heart sank. Between his job and her case, their visits had become sparse. Now this. But Marley knew this project was important to Rick and could tell by his tone he didnât want to let her down.
âItâs okay,â Marley said, trying to mask her disappointment. She didnât want to make him feel bad about something he had no control over. âWe can make it up another time.â
âThatâs why I love you. Youâre so understanding. I was looking forward to having time with you so we can discuss, you knowââ
Marley knew without him saying it.
Their future.
She promised theyâd talk soon, relieved for the extra time.
Delaney popped her head back in as Marley was hanging up.
âI just sent a list of topics to discuss at your meeting tomorrow.â
âOkay. I wonât be taking off next week, after all. Rick canât make it.â
âOh, Iâm sorry to hear that,â Delaney said, pouting as sympathy flooded her steel-blue eyes. âBut hey, in that caseâmy bachelorette partyâs this weekend. Why donât you join us?â
Why not? Marley was honored to be asked and told her sheâd be there.
After Delaney left, Marley headed to Samâs office to tell him about the meeting.
âKnock, knock!â she announced.
âWait till I get my panties on!â he cried in falsetto as he tapped away on his keyboard.
Marley plopped into a chair, crossed her legs, and waited until he was done typing. She needed his undivided attention.
âSup, weirdo? Is it quittinâ time?â he asked.
âNot yet. We have a new assignment.â
He swiveled in his chair to face her, raked a hand through his hair, and laced his fingers behind his head. The rolled-up sleeves of his white Oxford provided a striking contrast to his tan forearms. It was only June, but Sam already looked as if heâd spent the entire summer at the shore.
Marley resented that someone as fair-haired as he could bronze so easily from head to toe. The sun adored Sam, swooning like a long-lost love as he paddled through the waves on his surfboard, warming his glistening skin to golden brown, and sprinkling his sea-soaked hair with kisses of honey. Meanwhile, the rest of the world (read: Marley) remained a pasty winter white no matter how many sun salutations she did. As a fellow weekend shore warrior, she spent an equal amount of time on the beach as Sam, but all the sun did for her was toss a smattering of freckles at her opaque Irish skin like a passive-aggressive afterthought.
Thanks, sun. Thanks, Celtic DNA.
Marley glanced away, abiding the unwritten code of male/female besties, which, briefly stated, prohibited one from staring, ogling, or otherwise noting the attractive features of oneâs platonic pal. She was well-versed in ignoring Samâs perfectly sculptedâŠum, everything, but occasionally heâd do something to soften her resolve.
Like dragging her into menâs clothing boutiques to try on tailored Armani suits during their lunch breaks. Sheâd pretend not to notice how the slim cut of the trousers revealed the contours of his thighs and bum. Or when heâd bribe her with dinner at Maggianoâs if sheâd accompany him to the King of Prussia mall to find Tommy Bahama swim trunks. Which, inevitably, fit as if he were Tommy Bahama himself (assuming Tommy was six feet tall and built like an Adonis).
Sam stretched his arms to the side, causing his tailored shirt to pull across his chest.
âMar, do me a solidârub my shoulders?â He batted his baby blues. âIâm super sore from last nightâs workout.â
She cocked her head.
âPlease? Iâll pay you.â
âYou canât afford me,â Marley teased.
Forgetting the friend code for a moment, her eyes were riveted to his toned upper body, noticeable even through his Brooks Brothers button-down.
Noticeable, or summoning her like a beacon?
She got a good gander at Sam on the beach every weekend, so itâs not like she didnât know exactly what he was packing. She just couldnât help it. The pecs, the washboard abs, theâ
âTake a pictureâit lasts longer.â Samâs joke broke the spell before her mind went any lower.
âShut up.â Marley laughed to edge the tone of guilt from her âYouâre an ass.â
âIâm not the one staring.â Sam ducked to avoid the paper clip she tossed at him. âHey, you almost took out my eye.â
Marley cleared her throat, trying to remember what she had to tell him.
âOh. I have something for you.â She scrolled through emails on her phone, blowing away a copper-brown curl that sprang free from her loose bun.
âPlease donât let it be about work,â Sam pleaded, his eyes gleaming with the promise of impending imbibement. âIsnât it five oâclock somewhere?â
âItâs actually six here.â
âThen we have some drinking to catch up on,â Sam said.
âDonât end your sentence with a preposition.â
âSuch a flirt. Do you talk to all the guys this way?â
âYou know me, luring them in with grammatical corrections.â
Sam smiled. âIs that why youâre here, to lure me in?â
âRight,â she said dismissively, hoping he couldnât see her cheeks flush.
Sam was a perpetual flirt. If he was talking, he was flirting. Marley had learned long ago, the hard way, it meant nothing.
âIâm sending this to your printer,â she said.
âA cease and desist order?â
âSomething like that.â
As the printer churned out the page, Sam wound up, spun in his chair three times, and grabbed the paper on his final revolution.
âProsecutionâs requested a meeting,â she said. âThatâs the list of topics to discuss.â
Sam waved the paper around in a grand gesture. Marley looked at him dead-on, unamused, waiting for the theatrics to cease.
âIs Delaney going to meet with him?â he asked after skimming the email.
âNo, we are. Sheâs leaving for her wedding tomorrow, remember?â
âDelaneyâs getting married?â Sam yelled, slamming the paper into his chest. âWhy wasnât I told about this?â
Marley gave him a measured look. Theyâd received their invitations weeks ago. Despite constant inquiries, she still didnât know who he was taking as his plus-one. Sam, who avoided relationship entanglements like the DMV on a Saturday, wouldnât give her a straight answer.
First, he was going alone. Then he was taking their octogenarian receptionist. When he finally announced heâd asked Catherine Parr, Marley was thrilled, if not a little confusedâshe didnât know this Catherine. He was elusive when pressed for details, only sharing she was âa little older.â Marley consulted the next best source: Google.
Samâs âdate,â it turned out, was the sixth wife of King Henry VIII.
Being as close as they had been for the past six years, Marley and Sam were intimately aware of the details of each otherâs lives, with this one exception. She wasnât sure why Sam was being so squirrelly. It wasnât like the man couldnât find a date with the snap of his fingers. Perhaps his plan was to fake a day-of illness, a major faux pas if he wanted to work for this firm. They both hoped for postgraduation job offers, and she didnât want Sam to blow his chances, or hers, by dishonoring his RSVP and pissing off their future boss.
Sam folded the email into an airplane and aimed for the trash can. It careened into Marleyâs head.
âWe need that.â Marley bent over to retrieve the paper intended for the meeting and smoothed the creases. âStop ruining the planet.â
"Know what I was thinking about the other day?â he asked.
âYou should drop out of law school and twirl close-out signs on Delaware Ave?â
âHey, someone has to alert the world when inventory is being drastically reduced, and that someone is me.â Sam pointed at his chest with both thumbs. âNo, smart-ass, I was thinking about how much you hated me when we first met.â
âI didnât hate you.â She did. âYou were just someone I wouldnât have befriended.â
âBut youâre happy you did. Admit it.â
âExcept I didnât. You befriended me.â
âThatâs not how I remember it.â
âOh, yeah?â Marley tilted her head. âHowâd it go, then?â
âYou feigned a gross misunderstanding of the course material in a daring attempt to gain my assistance. Relentlessly, and without shame.â
It had gone nothing like that. Quite the opposite.
âOr maybe that was me,â he admitted.
It was. Theyâd met in Criminal Law 101 during their freshman year at Temple University. She was the studious future lawyer with aspirations to attend Villanova Law School; he, the flannel-wearing sloth who couldnât answer a simple question about Miranda rights. As he stumbled over the answer, Marley blurted it out. She couldnât help itâtheyâd been covering this topic for weeks and she was anxious to move on.
âThanks for bailing me out. Iâm a little hungover,â heâd said after class. âIâm Sam Adams. And youâre?â
âNot named after a beer," Marley said as she flung her backpack over her shoulder and stormed away.
The next day he was called upon by the professor, again unable to answer.
âSomeone should inform the founding father the tea partyâs over,â Professor Weinstein said. âTime to focus on this class.â
Sam had tried to strike up conversations with her in the following days. The more she ignored him, the harder he tried. She wasnât encouraging him one bit, unlike the gaggle of flirty girls who flocked around him every day after class. Not that sheâd noticed.
Then, one day, he scootched his chair closer to hers, leaned his elbows on his knees, and announced he had a question. She braced herself for a fresh round of stupidity as he smiled up at her, nearly sweeping her off her seat with a look she presumed had been practiced until perfected. He was so close she could see flecks of green in his Caribbean-blue eyes. She forgot what his question was, until she realized he hadnât asked it. Why was this guy so maddingly beautifulâobjectively, of courseâwhile at the same time so vacuous? She didnât like extremely good-looking guys. Or blondes. She trusted neither, preferring dark-haired, dark-eyed guys. Grounded. Serious. Their looks inconsequential as long as their intellect matched hers. This player was the complete opposite.
He asked her why she hated him.
âI donât hate you,â sheâd said, her propensity toward kindness taking over. âI just donât have time for frat boy antics. Iâm trying to get into law school.â
âIâm not a frat boy. And Iâm also going to law school. Villanova.â
Marley recoiled as if cockroaches spewed from his mouth. No way was this guy getting into her dream law school. She wasnât even sure how he got into college.
âYou do realize you need more than charm to get into law school?â
âI guess I should ask my dad, whoâs a lawyer himself. In fact, he graduated from âNova. If Iâm correct, that makes meâŠâ Sam snapped his fingers. âOh, yeah! A legacy.â
Later that week, he invited her to a study group. She was about to decline but thought it might be helpful if other serious students were involved. She reluctantly agreed, hoping it wouldnât just be a bunch of jocks trying to glean her intel.
Marley and Sam were first to arrive for the study session and chatted as they awaited others. She was surprised to learn they shared common interests, despite growing up on opposite sides of the SEPTA tracks. Both loved living in Philly, cheering for the Eagles, and drinking beer. Both hated Styrofoam, the word âmoist,â and when people say âno offenseâ right before they offend you.
Sam was a lot smarter than he let on. And funny.
âOh, and I canât stand that white strip in chicken fingers. Like, what the hell is that, anyway?â Sam asked.
âNo offense, but youâre crazy not to love that thing.â
Theyâd laughed, and Sam had asked her what her boyfriend was like.
Marley was taken aback by his sudden question. She didnât have a boyfriend at the time but didnât want to disclose that factoid to him. Especially since her dating status, or lack thereof, was an unrelenting theme at family gatherings. Marley felt as picked apart as the turkey on the Thanksgiving table when relatives offered their theories on her inability to snag a man. Painfully shy. Too studious. Doesnât know how to flirt.
The Family Maguire considered it strange a woman would choose college over marriage. Before Marley, none had. Instead, they wed after high school and pumped out little Irish tater tots, like generations before them. Marley wondered if they should change the family crest, featuring a knight on a white steed, to include a woman being dragged behind him.
Sam had interjected before Marley could answer. âLet me guess. Heâs a geeky four-eyed IT type. A dependable guy of substance, not spark.â Sheâd been stunned at the accuracy with which he described her perfect (nonexistent) boyfriend.
She was also surprised when no one else showed up for the study group. They agreed to meet the following week. Again, no one else came. This time they studied and aced the exam. Marley decided it was worth her time to make it a weekly event.
Now here they were, co-interns on a real criminal case, after surviving four years of college, two years of law school, and one humiliating misunderstanding that almost ended their friendship.
The Way to Cape May is a fun read that fully embraces its Love Actually inspired plot, featuring enthralling vignettes which take their protagonists through the ups and downs of love and life.
The novel follows four women â bride-to-be Delaney, sister and maid of honor Kate, best friend and bridesmaid Cleo, and intern attorney Marley. Delaney is scheduled to marry her love since childhood, Dalton, but between her work and a potential hurricane, the wedding could take a turn for the worse. Kate has always believed in destiny, so when sheâs suddenly faced with reminders of her past relationship, she begins to question if she made the right decisions. Cleo has had a rough life, so her cynicism may get in the way of potential romance. Marley works for Delaney with her best friend, Sam, whom she harbors feelings for. As the wedding approaches, these women face relationship struggles and learn hard life lessons.
The conflict is somewhat contrived and some twists seem clichĂ©. For example, more than one character experiences a medical emergency on the same day. However, it can be argued these make sense given theme. Life itself doesnât come with warnings. The way each character handles the unexpected situations thrown at them is done rationally. While some individuals are more sensible than others, the story as a whole treats each conflict with respect and maturity. As for the predictability, any Rom-Com is equal to if not more clichĂ©, and each lucky or unlucky occurrence fits nicely with the recurring motif of destiny.
The most interesting vignette by far features Marley. She is fierce and ambitious but also sweet and loyal to those she loves. Her perspective is very unique as she juggles jealousy and questioning if her work-obsessed boyfriend is the right man. She is also least connected to Delaney, so her story and romance is given room to breathe without being absorbed into any main wedding conflict. Next is Kateâs ex-boyfriend troubles. Constant memories and the current success of Greg threatens Kateâs ability to move on and find new love. Cleoâs vignette is also exciting, as she deals with abandonment issues and getting through loss while finding love beyond another hook-up. Lastly, Delaney truly embodies âtrouble in paradiseâ as her conflict at times seems mild compared to what her friends face. While she and Dalton don't have the most exciting chemistry, their relationship is still believable and provides a perfect center to the story.
Overall, this is a charming romance novel definitely worth the read. It receives four out of five stars for being fun and exciting while clearly portraying the twists and turns of life.