“That poor girl.” Tears well in Mom’s eyes as she circles her arms around us. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to come home and find Mara like that. She’s going to need all our love and support.”
“Thanks for taking her in.” My parents truly are the best.
“Nonsense. She’s basically my fourth daughter,” Mom says. “Gwen belongs with us, and we’ll take care of her.”
Gwen stays with us in the aftermath of the funeral while Dad and the lawyer work through all the legalities. Gwen went before the court yesterday, and she’s now emancipated. The court also gave her permission to reside in the house until it goes through probate, and she’s planning to move back there this weekend.
“Babe, you don’t mind if I wear this again, right?” Gwen asks, coming out of my closet in a black lacy bra and matching thong, brandishing the plaid miniskirt I was planning on wearing to Thanksgiving dinner at the Hunts’.
“No, of course not. I told you to borrow anything you like.” Something Gwen has been taking liberally, but if wearing my stuff makes her happy, then she’s welcome to them.
Since that first night at the hospital when Gwen sobbed her heart out, she has barely shed a tear, and I’m worried about her. Mom is too. It’s obvious she’s bottling her grief up. She shuts down anytime we try to talk to her about the events of that night or her gran. Mom has suggested therapy, but Gwen isn’t interested, and I’ve had to tell Mom to back off. Grief is individual, and we all process it differently. I know that from recent personal experience, and I’m not going to criticize Gwen for doing what she needs to do for her sanity.
“You look like you’ve lost weight.” Not that Gwen needed to lose weight, but she’s noticeably thinner.
“Grief will do that to a person.” She shimmies the skirt up her legs and over her hips before staring at herself in the full-length mirror secured to the back of my bedroom door. She cocks her head to one side before cupping her boobs. “Thankfully, the girls are the same size.”
“I’m so jealous,” I say, staring at my modest B-cup chest. “I’d love bigger boobs.”
“There’s always cosmetic surgery,” she says before pulling a tight pink sweater on.
“Not for me,” I say, stripping my tights off and padding into my closet where I choose a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white top to go with an oversized tan blazer and brown boots. A few chunky necklaces and bracelets complete the look.
“You look nice,” Gwen says when I emerge from the closet.
“Thanks. So do you.” She’s added white knee-high socks and black MJs with a low heel to her outfit. “You look so different.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion.
“It wasn’t an insult. You look fab, Gwen. It’s just your style has changed so much since you started dating Scott. You used to tease me for wearing similar outfits.”
“Like I said, chica, I’ve evolved.”
We do our makeup side by side in my bathroom, and I try to ignore the mess on the counter. Gwen has her own bedroom now, thanks to Mom’s and my handiwork, but she doesn’t have a bathroom, so she shares mine. Which I don’t mind, but I wish she’d clean up some of her mess.
“Here, try this.” She hands me a tube of red lip gloss. It’s an expensive brand and still sealed in plastic. It seems like every day she’s coming home with something new. She doesn’t have access to whatever money Mara left yet, so Scott is clearly funding her. I know his parents have decent jobs, but I didn’t realize they had money to burn.
“Red’s not really me.”
“It’s Thanksgiving, and we’re going to your boyfriend’s place for dinner. I know you want to look your best. You need some color to pick up that outfit, and your face is a little pale.”
“It is?”
“I’ve got an idea.” She whips the gloss from my hand. “Let me do your makeup. I’ll make you so beautiful, Callan won’t be able to keep his dick in his pants.” She gives me a gentle nudge. “Go sit down inside.”
I do as I’m told, and Gwen exits the en suite a few seconds later, carrying various bits of makeup in her arms. She dumps them on top of my desk before tilting my head back and examining my face. “Close your eyes,” she says. “I’m going to make you look so gorgeous Callan won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
36
CALLAN
“Happy Thanksgiving, Cal.” Gwen flings her arms around my neck, grabbing me down to her height so she can kiss me on both cheeks. The overpowering scent of perfume clogs my nostrils, and I almost gag. “Thanks for inviting me,” she adds as I peel her arms off me and straighten my back.
“You can thank my parents,” I say, maneuvering around her to greet my girlfriend. “Hey, you.” I reel Astrid into my arms, my limbs instantly relaxing. She looks stunning. Her outfit is casual but sophisticated, and she carries it with style. I’m surprised to see her wearing so much makeup because she doesn’t usually, and I think she’s gorgeous without it, but maybe she’s trying a new look. “You look beautiful,” I say, leaning down to kiss her. Notes of vanilla and strawberry tickle my nose as I inhale the delicate floral scent emanating from her skin, making a mental note to find out which perfume she wears so I can buy her some for Christmas.
“Don’t ruin her makeup!” Gwen yanks Astrid out of my arms before my lips can make contact. “Please introduce me to Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, Azzie. I want to give them the champagne.” My eyes lower to the expensive bottle in her hands, and I arch abrow. That must have cost her a fortune. Looks like someone is going all out to impress my parents. Ma loves champagne, so I’m sure she’ll appreciate the gesture.
We all make our way into the living room, and I get drinks for the kids and Astrid’s parents while Gwen regales my parents with some story that has them laughing.
