Waves Between Us

Chapter 1 - The Airport Mishap

The Honolulu airport buzzed like a beehive, tourists dragging neon suitcases, children in flower crowns darting beneath ropes, and the sticky hum of island air wrapping around me like a too-close embrace. I was running on three hours of sleep, bad airplane coffee, and pure adrenaline.

Kelly had begged me to come early to “help keep things sane” before her wedding. Which, in Best-Friend-Speak, translated to: Sam, please keep me from losing my mind over seating charts and flower crises.

I’d barely taken five steps into the terminal when I saw her.

Natalie Moreno.

I’d seen her in photos, of course, Kelly’s mom at birthdays, Christmas dinners but those images hadn’t even come close. The woman standing across the arrivals gate looked like she’d stepped out of a different world entirely.

Tall. Poised. The kind of beauty that didn’t shout it commanded. Her sunlit hair was swept into a soft chignon, a few loose strands catching the light as if even the Hawaiian sun couldn’t resist touching her. She wore a pale linen dress that looked deceptively simple until you noticed how it framed her shoulders, how the fabric skimmed her skin with the kind of elegance that didn’t happen by accident.

And then she looked up.

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.

Her eyes, sharp, assessing, and brown landed on me with the kind of focus that made time stutter. There was curiosity in that gaze. Surprise, maybe. Something unreadable but not indifferent.

She started toward me, heels clicking against the tile, chin tilted with purpose.

“Finally,” she said, stopping in front of me. “You’re late.”

I blinked. “Sorry—what?”

Her gaze skimmed me from head to toe, jeans, Converse, a wrinkled T-shirt that still smelled faintly like airplane peanuts and something in her expression flickered. Disapproval, maybe. Or intrigue.

“You must be the planner,” she said crisply. “You should have texted when you landed.”

Planner.

That one word should’ve been my cue to correct her. But exhaustion and mischief are a dangerous combination, and I’ve never been one to resist trouble.

“Traffic on the tarmac,” I said with a sigh. “And baggage claim was chaos. But don’t worry, your daughter’s big day is safe in my hands.”

Her brow arched, perfectly skeptical. “Safe in your hands,” she repeated. “You don’t exactly strike me as the organized type.”

Ouch. Accurate, but still ouch.

I grinned. “Don’t let the Converse fool you. Underneath this disaster is a very professional woman.”

She folded her arms, unimpressed but listening. “Professional what, exactly?”

Before I could invent a lie worth telling, a familiar voice sliced through the airport noise.

“Sam!”

Kelly came flying toward us, sundress fluttering, hair wild from humidity. She threw her arms around me, nearly knocking the wind out of my lungs.

“You made it!” she squealed.

“Barely,” I said, laughing. “Your mom almost fired me before I even started.”

Kelly froze. “My mom?”

Natalie’s brow rose, curiosity sharpening.

Kelly turned to her, wide-eyed. “Mom, no. This is Sam. My maid of honor. Not the wedding planner.”

For a second, an unguarded, glorious second, Natalie’s composure cracked. Her lips parted, and a flush crept up her neck before she caught herself, smoothing her expression back into control.

“Well,” she said after a beat, tone cool and deliberate. “That explains… quite a lot.”

I gave her a two-fingered salute. “At your service. Maid of honor, chaos wrangler, professional bad influence.”

Kelly groaned. “Please don’t encourage her, Mom.”

But Natalie’s lips curved anyway, a soft, involuntary smile she seemed to regret the moment it appeared. It wasn’t much, but it was real.

And for reasons I couldn’t quite name, it hit me harder than it should have.

While Kelly disappeared to grab her luggage, I stood beside Natalie in uneasy silence. She was scrolling her phone again, pretending not to notice me, though I could feel her gaze flick toward me more than once. Subtle. Controlled. Still obvious.

After all the years I’d known Kelly from college dorms, all-night cram sessions, surviving New York together, I’d never actually met her mother. They’d lived out in Kansas City, Kelly once said. A whole different world from ours.

And now here she was more composed than any photo could’ve captured, more beautiful than was strictly fair.

Kelly returned, dragging two enormous suitcases, muttering about the airline. “Mom, we’re good. The wedding planner has already arrived at the resort and the driver’s outside.”

Natalie nodded, then turned to me. Her gaze lingered just a moment too long, cool, assessing, but not detached.

“Coming?” she asked.

Something in her voice wasn’t quite a question.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing casual. “Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting again.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. Barely. “Wise choice.”

Kelly shot me a look. “Please behave. For my sake.”

I raised a hand in mock surrender. “I’m a delight.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered.

Outside, the humid island air wrapped around us like a welcome and a warning. The ocean shimmered in the distance, palm trees swaying lazily in the golden light. Natalie led the way to a sleek black shuttle car waiting at the curb. Even her walk was composed, effortless, confident.

When she reached the car, she glanced back at me. Just once. Her eyes met mine, steady, unreadable, but something softer flickered there. Recognition? Curiosity? Maybe even the faint spark of amusement.