For the friends who become more

❤️

A tear sprang from the corner of Violet’s eye. It was a worthy expression of love and support for her close friends.

“I do,” Jenny said.

“And do you, Martin, take this woman…?”

Violet looked across the beach to the groom’s side of the wedding party, the setting sun streaking rays of brilliant orange and pink over a partly cloudy sky. Benjiro caught her gaze and flashed her his signature, mischievous grin. At the same moment, Violet felt her palms begin to sweat and her stomach flip. Her best friend looked every bit as beautiful as the groom or the scenery, as if this day could have been his.

“I do,” Martin replied.

The new couple kissed, the guests cheered, and Violet wondered if she, too, would find her happily ever after. Perhaps she had waited too long.

“Aren’t all the bridesmaids supposed to carry tissue?”

She’d lost sight of Benjiro as the crowd came together, as hugs were given, well wishes spoken.

“You’re right,” Violet sniffed. “I seem to have misplaced mine. All happy tears here, mind you.”

Almost true.

Benjiro grabbed her hand. “No time for tears.”

“Or anything else!” Martin added, bumping elbows with his best man. “I feel like dancing!”

Violet had never been to a wedding where the rules were so open. A live band had indeed begun to play. From vows, first kiss, to music—the whole affair had taken less than a quarter hour to jump into full swing. Surely this was the point of destination weddings: throwing the rulebook out the window, exchanging the church for nature’s wonders, and embracing your exact dream.

“Dance with me, Violet!”

Violet swung into Benjiro’s tall form and laughed. He spun her with the upbeat music, breaking only for drinks, food, and toasts. The whole evening concluded so quickly, she felt dizzy, dazed. And truly happy. Happy for her friends, happy to be with her best friend.

“Remind me, how long have we known one another, hana?”

Benjiro’s pet name in Japanese always made Violet feel special. This was not only because the word meant flower, or that her first name was a type of flower, but because he’d told her, at age five, how she was the most beautiful blossom in the flower shop. He’d strode into her father’s store one Saturday with his mother, and something between them had clicked. Fate tossed them together in the same kindergarten class the following week, and the rest was history—inseparable from then on.

Everything was simple with Benjiro. Everything was easy. It was like breathing.

Violet smiled, remembering. “A very long time.”

Violet and Benjiro began their walk from the emptying beach up the stone pathway toward the hotel. The bride and groom had disappeared sometime around midnight, but the band continued to play until well after three.

“You’d think that after almost four decades, I’d somehow know why my best friend in all the world was sad.”

In all...

The Big Mess