We chat for a moment longer before hanging up so that they can call Lucy and question her over not telling them about her date. (Yes, we tell our parents everything.)
Oops. Sorry, my little by-a-minute sister.I grin to myself, thinking this feels like slight payback for everything she’s put me through.
I submerge myself back into work while checking out the streaming platforms for a good documentary to watch tonight. What am I in the mood for…?
“Ted Bundy? That’s what you want to watch while you’re all alone? Jeez, Lor. I sometimes wonder how we are twins.”
I roll my eyes.Me too, Lucy. Me too.
“How do I look?”
My sister spins, her pastel yellow sundress billowing around her. She’s tamed her natural curls, and they cascade in waves over her shoulders. Her straight bangs add just the right amount of girlishflare, perfectly suiting her personality. Her bruise is light enough to effectively cover with makeup.
I smile thinking about how she’s kind of like the female version of Finley. “He’s going to love the real you.”
Her shoulders droop. “Do you really think so? Because from what I’ve heard so far, it seems like he likes the realyou, Lor.”
Something stirs in my stomach at her words, but I dismiss the uncomfortable feeling. Instead, I stand and give my sister a hug that she looks like she’s in need of. Lucy is the one person I can freely hug without getting theicks. I even feel icky sometimes hugging Mom and Dad and Hadley.
Though when Finley hugged you at church, you sank into his arms,my brain decides to vividly remind me as I wrap Lucy in my arms.
But that was because I had to pretend to be my sister,I argue back like a deranged lunatic.
“Sure, he likes some things about me. But that’s not going to hold a candle to what he will discover about you tonight.”
Lucy relaxes a little, but she pulls away. “Will you go over everything y’all have talked about with me one more time? I need to know a little more regarding the philosophical and historical talk. Also, do you think I should dress a little more like you?”
I sigh, not wanting to rehash everything I’ve tried hard to distract myself from. But my sister needs this, and I want her to have the best date in the world with Finley tonight. That way, when she comes home tonight, all smiles and high on insta-love, I can officially discard Finley Andersson from my head the same way I toss out a rot-rooted plant.
That man has been taking up way too much space lately.
“You don’t need to look like me. Remember? I went on that first date dressed likeyou.”
“True,” she says. “But I still need to go over everything again. Make me book-smart like you.” She beams, a little life flowing back into her energy.
“Sit,” I tell her, pointing to the couch before I walk to my room to grab a book, preparing to give the highlights of this classical work to Lucy.
Once I return and sit next to her, I crack open the book and begin. “This is my favorite book. It’s calledCommon Senseby Thomas Paine. Paine was a Founding Father and a revolutionary. He wrote this book in 1776, and it speaks to the need for independence from Britain. But the deeper meaning…” I trail off as Lucy’s eyes glaze over.
Snapping in front of her face, she startles and focuses back on me. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “Please continue.”
I do, and as I inform her of the ideological gem that isCommon Sense,she nods her head and asks questions, very much proving my sisterissmart. She would just rather gain knowledge of other things and apply it in different manners than I do. She’d rather readPride and Prejudicewhereas I prefer books like the one I’m discussing. She wants to learn how to craft worlds and characters and explore the nuances between emotions and reason whereas I’d rather learn historical facts. Both are valuable skills, one not to be honored higher than the other.
A knock at the door rips us from our talk, which has turned more into a delightful and informative conversation. We bothshoot to our feet, and my heart does a strange stutter like it can’t determine if it wants to stop completely or flutter away.
“He’s here!” Lucy squeaks.
“Might I recommend not squeaking or squealing tonight? Remember who you are and remember who he is. He’s a crown prince, Lucy. He’s looking for a queen.”
“Right,” she says, smoothing her dress down and fluffing out her hair. “I can do this.”
“That’s the spirit, Your Highness.” I curtsey to her, winning a giggle out of her nervous expression.
The knock comes again.
I shove Lucy forward as I linger on the opposite end of the living room near the kitchen. She takes a breath and flicks an anxious glance back at me one last time. I give her two thumbs up and motion for her to open the door. She slowly relents, and then Finley stands in the doorway looking like someone who truly did step out of the royal world. He wears a navy blue tux that is perfectly tailored to his slim but fit body. His usually shaggy blond hair is styled back, creating a refined air around the crown prince. In his hands, he holds a bouquet of red, yellow, and white chrysanthemums.
“I love the bangs, Lucy. I’m glad you made that decision. You are,” he leisurely peruses her, and that knotting feeling is back in my gut, “absolutely stunning. These are for you.”
