Five minutes later, I hear voices around the corridor.
The bride appears, leading another lady by the arm.
My eyes widen. “Shit. There’re two of you.”
“Yep. I’m Rose,” the bride says. “This is my sister, Poppy. I believe you’ve met.”
Poppy is wearing a gauzy peach-colored dress that makes me want to take a bite out of her.
“You’re not getting married.” I fight a smile at that revelation but lose the war. I outright grin. Poppy is not taken. She’s not a liar. She didn’t fail to mention she was getting married while flirting with a stranger.
Her hazel eyes go wide. “No. My sister is… We’re twins.” She waves her hand between the two of them, then lets it drop.
It hits me. “Poppy and Rose?”
Rose laughs. “Our mom is a gardener. If we were triplets, there’d be a Violet.”
They are identical. And not. Rose is bolder, more confident in her speech and movements.
But it’s Poppy I can’t stop watching. I want to see her sweet smile. That pop of dimple.
I can’t tear my eyes from her.
After the gut-wrenching disappointment when I thought she was married, I don’t want to force myself to walk away yet.
Her sister finally breaks the silence. “Ooookaaaay. I gotta get back to my wedding. Poppy, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which means you can do a lot.” She turns to me and winks.
Poppy watches her go. Then she hiccups. And sways a bit.
I was so shocked there were two Poppys that I missed the signs.
She’s clearly enjoyed the wedding champagne. A lot. She takes a deep swig from her glass.
“I’m going to need more of this. Keep ’em coming.” She hiccups again. And giggles. “Sorry, sorry.”
“You might want some water instead.”
“Nope.” She sighs. “I need gallons of wine to get through this wedding.” She raises an eyebrow. “Though, itislooking up.”
I rub one of my shoulders that’s sore from a stunt I rehearsed today.
“Do you often need gallons of wine?” I ask warily. My mom had addiction issues, so I keep my distance from people who drink a lot, which means I keep my distance from half of Hollywood. “You weren’t drunk after the bachelorette party.”
She lowers her voice and leans toward me. “Not usually—but the ceremony’s done, and I’ve officially completed my duties, so I’m free. I only had two glasses. Three. Plus, it helps with the hiccups.” She hiccups to make her point. Or perhaps to belie it.
She sighs and sways again. I put my arm around her to keep her upright.
“Did you know that Rose never wanted to get married? All she ever wanted was to leave Snowflake Harbor and dance on Broadway.Iwas the one who was supposed to be planning my wedding this year.”
She drains the rest of the glass and frowns into it when it comes up empty. She sets it down, then looks at me. “But that was before Derek the Dick dumped me. He brought a date to the wedding and told our friends that he’s in love. In love! We broke up two months ago. How can he be in love again?”
I shuffle, not sure how to answer.
She hiccups. “I need another glass of champagne.”
“I’m not sure you do.”
“I’m absolutely sure that I do, and I’m absolutely sure that whether I have another glass of champagne is my decision and my decision alone, Mr. Ronan Masters, international movie star.”
