Tough.
She’s the one who got us into this pickle.
Even if I’m the one who insisted this was a good idea. And I still stand by it.
“Itwasalways my dream to get married at the gazebo in Reindeer Square,” she says. “With the whole town there. And a cake fromReindeer Bakes and in a Mrs. Claus dress like the one your grandma used to wear.”
Fuck.
She’s good.
She invokedmy grandma.
My entire family draws a loud, collective breath and looks at Grandma, who’s eyeing both of us like she’s considering the best curse to put on our children.
Someone dialed the summer up to eleven. Sweat’s dripping down my ass now too.
“Who does she think she is—” Uncle Rob starts, but Lorelei elbows him in the gut.
“He’s a man in love despite all the reasons he knows you won’t like it,” she says. “And how are you all going to feel when he comes home for Christmas and the Andersons accept him as one of their own when you have this amazing chance to accept Amanda as one ofourown but you’re being dicks purely for the joy of being dicks?”
“I love your sister,” Amanda whispers.
“Mostly same,” I whisper back.
“Her grandmother plays that god-awful country Christmas album—”
Amanda interrupts him. “I love Dolly.”
“Dad. Go check the turkey,” Esme says. She beckons us closer. “Amanda. Dane. Chili. Get in here out of the heat so we can all talk about your wedding without our brains frying. Pia over at the bakery is one of my best friends. I’ll make a call and get a cake arranged. You just tell me the date.”
“Why wait until next month?” Lorelei says as she, too, hustles us into the miraculously cool house. The kitchen is dimly lit, and I smack my hip on the sideboard that’s always been too close to the back door, but we’re in air-conditioning. Beautiful, cool air-conditioning. “This is Tinsel. We can whip up a wedding in a week.”
“And then you can get married on Grandma and Grandpa’s actual anniversary,” Esme adds as she pushes us toward the kitchen table, where all the sides are already set out, including three different fruitcakes beside a plate of sugar cookies that I know will have come from Lorelei. She bakes the best cookies. Which is not what I should be concentrating on considering what my cousin is saying. “Next Monday. You can stay a couple extra days instead of taking time off for Vegas next month, and then it’s an even bigger celebration this weekend.”
Lorelei claps her hands. “Oh, that’s such a poetic date for such a poetic romance.”
“We can’t ask all of you to drop everything to help us plan a wedding in a single week,” Amanda says.
“It’s our absolute pleasure,” Esme says.
Lorelei’s eyes go shiny like she’s about to cry. “We get to besisters.”
I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this manyfucks in my head in a one-hour time period.
“My family—” Amanda starts, but Lorelei blinks at her as her eyes get shinier and her chin trembles.
Shit.
Shit.
My sister will hate us if she ever finds out this was all fake.
“—will be so excited that I’m not eloping like my brother just did,” Amanda finishes weakly as she casts a glance at the fruitcake.
I swallow.
Hard. “I didn’t want to wait a whole month to get married anyway.”
