Jennica arrived bright and early to help Keeley prepare for her wedding. Keeley felt too sleepy to participate, but let her friend apply makeup without complaint; it was best to get it over with.
Jennica kept the makeup simple yet beautiful, using an eyeshadow palette to accentuate the gold in Keeley's brown eyes. Keeley's hair was styled in a half-up, half-down curly style that complemented her shoulder-length cut—a style she'd adopted a couple of months earlier, preferring shorter hair.
"You're going to take his breath away," Jennica assured her, adding finishing touches with a curling iron.
Keeley wasn't worried about that. Once fully awake, however, she felt nauseous. The thought of vomiting during the ceremony terrified her; her morning sickness was unpredictable. She might even vomit from nerves alone. The prospect of remarrying her former husband, even a changed one, filled her with dread. He was different, but his family, particularly Lacy Knighton, was not. The inevitable confrontation with them loomed, and she wasn't prepared. Aaron promised to keep them safe, but what if he couldn't? What if she was repeating the same mistake and facing the same outcome? She took deep breaths to calm herself. If the universe intended for her to marry Aaron again, it better ensure her peace.
In the car en route to the marina, Jennica hesitated before whispering, "Aaron isn't forcing you into this, right?"
Keeley's friend's concern was comforting, though Keeley was tempted to laugh. "No, it was my idea."
Jennica frowned. "Do you love him?"
No, but his love for her would have to suffice. At the very least, she liked him; being with him wasn't as irritating as before.
"I think he'll be a good husband," she said, evading the question.
Jennica understood and squeezed Keeley's hand reassuringly. Keeley appreciated the gesture, despite her doubts. She was terrified of the potential consequences—a self-inflicted death sentence, she feared. But no! Things were different this time. Aaron had security measures in place. Everything would be fine.
By the time they reached the yacht, Keeley was a wreck, though thankfully, her nausea subsided after some ginger ale. They were the last to arrive, except for Aiden, who hit traffic. Jennica ushered Keeley below deck to avoid Aaron seeing her dress (she was superstitious), joining the other women and her father.
"Who are we waiting on?" Lydia asked. "Collin says Aaron was freaking out when you guys were second to last."
Keeley was curious about Aaron's "freaking out." He rarely showed emotion publicly; he'd only recently become more expressive around her.
"Our friend Aiden."
"Ten bucks says he was up late playing video games," Jennica chuckled, her insight gained from her relationship with Cameron. "Aaron's going to kill him."
The word "kill" renewed Keeley's anxiety. Aaron wouldn't kill anyone, but Alistair Hale certainly would upon discovering the marriage. She was in trouble.
It was too late to back out; the boat had departed, signifying Aiden's arrival. Few people were privy to the event: the captain, the minister, and the photographer, none likely to betray her to the Hales. They couldn't access government databases, preventing them from discovering the marriage records or Social Security records once she changed her name back to Hale. She wanted her child to avoid the alienation of having parents with different last names.
This time, however, there would be a significant difference. In a few months, she'd become Dr. Hale, a far cry from her previous title. If her research continued successfully, someday people would know Aaron as Keeley Hale's husband, not the other way around. This thought eased her tension enough to elicit a smile.
Valentina echoed her thoughts. "Isn't it going to be weird that your last names are practically the same? You're only changing one letter, but the pronunciation of the 'A' is different."
She'd received similar questions in her past life. It all started because of that one-letter difference—Hall, Hale—placing them together after three and a half years of attending the same school unaware of each other's existence. Without that difference, their paths would never have crossed. Aaron might have married Lacy Knighton; Keeley would have received her PhD and married someone else. Neither would have been reborn, their lives neatly concluded.
"It is a little weird," Keeley agreed, a vast understatement.