“Only if you promise to hear Hunter out,” my mother boldly says, blocking the door. She’s not generally so outright manipulative.
They’re all so attached to him because he’s been around in some capacity as long as that purple coat.
“And if I don’t,” I snap back, “you’re going to, what, hold me hostage in here with the twenty-year-old quilt garm—”
My sass is cut off by a frantic knock, which makes my mother scream like a banshee and Eden plaster herself behind the coats before the door opens and Violet shoves her way in.
“Why are you so jumpy, and how are we already in the closet? Did my soon-to-be in-laws do something?” Violet’s big eyes brighten when she spots me. She pulls me tight against her. “I didn’t know you were here, Tessa. Oh”—she straightens and claps her hands enthusiastically—“are we gossiping about Hunter?”
With a valiant effort to both refute that and steer us in the only direction this day should go, I wave that off. “We’re talking about how thrilled we are that you’re so happy.”
The three of them resemble each other so closely. Blonde hair, green eyes, angular noses, and tiny frames. All donningpastels. It’s like nature was announcing that I’d be the odd one out.
“Some part of you must be interested in rekindling things. I noticed you removed your tongue ring,” my mother goes on, steamrolling my redirection in favor of her relentless mission.
It’s on the tip of my pierce-less tongue to shatter her rose-colored glasses by informing them all that the removal was because the barbell had gotten stuck on a cock ring. That would put an end to this.
“Ooh, the plot thickens.” Violet bounces in excitement. “So, we are talking about Hunter.”
“Mmhmm,” Eden murmurs around a mouthful of something before presenting a party-size bag of peanut M&M’s to the rest of us.
“Where did that come from?” I ask, snatching them up, even if I’d prefer Pixy Stix.
“We started hiding snacks in here a few years ago.” Violet digs in, helping herself to a handful.
“See?” My mother tears up, popping a piece of candy in her mouth, holding it inside her cheek, and covering her heart with both hands. “It’s so good to have all my girls home.”
“Even if one came with Mafia enforcers,” Eden tacks on because she can’t let me have one freaking sentimental minute.
Fucking hell.
“Enforcers?” Violet heaves, both distraught and aghast. “To my engagement brunch?”
“They aren’t enforcers. They’re security. It’s a long story, and I’m too sweaty to talk about it in here.” I practically pant that while gulping down my candy, slinking around them, and turning the knob. “I need air.”
As soon as the light shines in, Violet sings, “Great dress andahh-mazingboots, Tessa.”
“Thank you.” I curtsy and stick my tongue out at Eden before shutting them all back inside and cruising through the party.
Plastering on a broader smile than feels natural, I help myself to a glass of tea and a few strawberries before I pass by some guests and act as though I’m headed somewhere important so I can avoid small talk. People discussing the weather or any filler topic is a reoccurring item on my list. There are several apps dedicated to keeping us informed on the humidity level, so I can’t bear to squander breath on it. Of course, maybe it would be a welcome respite from the nagging conversations my mom and sisters impart.
Nope. I opt for neither. And stumble upon an alternative.
“Good to see ya, Tessa.” John, Eden’s husband, extends the obligatory my-wife-has-a-strong-distaste-for-you-but-I’m-still-your-brother-in-law hug.
“You too,” I return with a semi-awkward pat on his back. “Are the kids around?”
“Playing outside, I think. It’s gonna be a hot one today, huh?” His topic of choice could be that he doesn’t know me at all or that he’s trying to kill me on Eden’s behalf.
“It’s a scorcher.” I widen my eyes so my astonishment at July’s heat wave in the South is noted before turning to Derek, Violet’s fiancé, and offering a welcome-to-this-fucked-up-family embrace. “Congratulations. I’m so excited for you both.”
“Thanks, Tessa. I know Vi will be thrilled that you’re here. Have you seen her yet?”
“I have. She’s glowing.” I pull back, and before I can even decide whether to point him in the right direction, John correctly discerns my bare-bones response.
“They’re in the closet? Already?”
I snicker. “It doesn’t take much. And now there are snacks in there. You might not see them until tomorrow.”
