Page 60 of My Best French Wedding

Hildy pretended not to hear. She was too busy being miffed their opponents had drawn first blood.

They traded blows for a while, one dull smack after another. When the whistle signaled the end of the first round, the two teams retreated to opposite ends of the pool. Hildy’s arms were rubbery, so she could only imagine how Walter felt.

“How are you holding up?” she asked him, after someone dressed like a medieval page squirted Gatorade into their mouths.

“I’m fine.”

Hildy eyed their opponents, hoping to see signs of flagging energy. Unfortunately, Robbie and Fiona were as bouncy as ever. “We should probably end this.”

“I would nod but—”

“My pelvic bone is in the way, I know. I’ll assume you agree.”

“With what?”

“The plan.”

Walter tilted his head in an attempt to look up at her. “Are you going to let me in on it?”

“Just hold on really tight.”

“So… the same thing I’ve been doing?”

“Correct. Now get me back over there.” She tensed her thighs. “Giddyup, partner.”

“I live to serve.”

“Good boy. There’s a lump of sugar with your name on it back at the stable.”

When the whistle blew for the second round, Hildy waited until Fiona raised her arms to strike before making her move.

“Hildy, what are you doing?” Walter sounded panicked, possibly because she’d leaned so far forward to poke Fiona’s underarm he was no longer entirely vertical.

“Letting her have it,” she replied, waiting for Fiona to seize this golden opportunity to steal their pool noodle.

“Don’t!” Walter jerked back.

The chain reaction kicked off when Hildy let go of their pool noodle to grab two handfuls of his hair before she went flying. Fiona lunged for the pink noodle, only to feel her own weapon slipping away. She swayed, arms windmilling.

Just drop it, Hildy thought at her. Without a noodle of their own, she and Walter would be sitting ducks—which was the whole point of letting herself be disarmed.

Instead, Fiona lunged after the falling foam sticks.

“Fee!” Robbie screamed, as his bride-to-be threw her weight sideways. When she hit the water, he plunged after her like a kid bobbing for apples.

Meanwhile, Hildy had let go of Walter to grab for Fiona’s arm. The movement must have caught him off guard, because the next thing Hildy knew, she and Walter were a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the pool.

She came up spluttering, largely due to the arm locked around her midsection.

“Let go,” she told Walter, wriggling free before he could give her the Heimlich. Hildy waded over to where the bridesmaids were fluttering around the edge of the pool.

“What if she drowns?” one of them said. “Can you imagine? Literaldaysbefore her wedding!”

“She’s not going to drown,” someone else countered. “Fiona’s a really strong swimmer. Remember that spring break in Cabo?”

“That was a lazy river, Christine. She had an inner tube!”

“What’s she doing down there?” another bridesmaid asked.