Sienna recovers, swallowing hard and forcing her petal pink lips into a smile. “Paisley,” she says, “I should have known you’d outsource the preparations, as busy as you are with work.”
She wraps an arm around me, and it feels like the hug is meant to console, like she’s sayingIt’s not your fault the place looks like a nude sausage fest. It was those pesky perverts you hired.
I’m not sure what it is about this hug, or maybe it’s not the hug at all. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m the floor and she’s standing on me with those Gucci sandals, but I open my mouth and admit, “This is my handiwork.”
She steps back, surveying me with wide brown eyes, and I almost feel bad about theclassy with penisesthing. Her left hand lifts to brush hair from her eyes and a pear-shaped diamond the size of a mythical giant’s teardrop blinds me with its brilliance.
Never mind. Not sorry.
I gesture out at the room, looking at the bridesmaids and my mother, who are standing at the edge of the living room, waiting to follow my sister’s cue. “Work came second today. These decorations are courtesy of yours truly. And mom’s credit card, of course.” That rectangular piece of plastic and fifteen digit code also paid for this hotel room, and is already on file with Obstinate Daughter, the restaurant where we have reservations tonight.
It’s a trendy restaurant, with beautiful emerald green tiled floors, textured ivory walls, and copper accents. A hot spot with live music, it also serves a full dinner of upscale comfort food. The people-watching is superb, and that’s my favorite part. If I don’t see a sixty-year-old millionaire parsing through a group of twenty-somethings for his next ex-wife, I want my money back. Later, after our bellies are full, we’ll move on to a second place for more drinks, and dancing if that’s what Sienna wants.
My mother picks up a penis straw and glares at me. I bite back a grin. I don’t know why this offends her so deeply. There are phallic shapes in all corners of everyday life.
Like,ahem, the plane she flew on to come to Scottsdale for the weekend.
Her eyes widen, accusing me, like she’s sayingYou knew what you were doing.
My mouth opens, a habitual apology at the top of my throat, but I swallow it down. My jaw clenches as Paloma’s words float through my head, and I find I don’t want to apologize. I don’t want to be a doormat. I want to get through this weekend, and then one week on Bald Head Island, and skedaddle my way back across the country where I will only have to see my sister and Shane on major holidays.Maybe. I hear St. John is lovely at Christmastime.
Sienna recovers, smiling brightly.
A whoosh of relief dips through me as she takes it in stride. I wasn’t aiming to ruin her bachelorette party, only push her buttons a little.
She snatches the inflatable penis from the prop basket and pretends to kiss it. “The number one rule for this weekend, no posting pictures of me with this thing!”
The tension breaks. The bridesmaids leave us to deposit their luggage in their rooms on the same floor, and my mom and Sienna settle into the other room in the suite.
I sit on the bed and watch them unpack.
“How’s Ben?” I ask my mom. Sienna rolls her eyes behind our mom’s back.
Ben is my mother’s boyfriend, fifteen years her junior. She tends to make inappropriate comments about their sex life, and Sienna probably hears more about it because they live five minutes apart and spends the most time with her.
A smile lights up my mom’s face. “He’s the best. Sweet, kind, generous”—her perfectly shaped eyebrows lift—“if you know what I mean.”
My cheek muscles work overtime to keep from making a face.
Sienna rolls her eyes a second time, giving me theYou knew it was cominglook.
I grin. So does she. Something in my chest fractures. I needed this interaction, this dose of sisterly bonding. I’ve built her up in my head to be the marrier-of-ex’s, but she’s still my little sister.
Sienna pulls two dresses from where she has recently hung them in the small closet and holds them out to me. “Which one?”
This is the time-honored female tradition of asking for fashion advice as a way of determining the climate of a relationship. It saysI’m not a threat, are you?
I point left. “The white, obviously.”
She nods happily. The sisterly warmth returns, and a well of hope springs up inside me. Maybe the weekend won’t be so bad after all.
Maren, Wren, and Farhana return from their rooms, freshened up and dressed in their dinner clothes.
They’re nice, but it’s clear I’m on the fringe here. They know Sienna in a way I don’t, and I can’t help the stab of envy in my heart. If I’d never left North Carolina,stubbornly refusing to go the path my dad laid out, would Sienna and I be closer?
My mom plays bartender. She hands me a glass of champagne, and I force myself to sip when I want to gulp. By the time we’re ready to leave for our dinner reservations, everyone is tipsy and drinking champagne from penis straws.
CHAPTER 3
