Then she made this sound—half laugh, half sob—and closed the space between us. Her arms snaking around my neck.
I hugged her back. Hard. Like if I held tight enough, she couldn't leave again.
"I missed you," she whispered.
"I missed you too," I managed. "So damn much."
When we finally pulled apart, both wiping tears, I remembered Julia.
She was standing a few feet back, watching with that expression she got when she was trying not to intrude on something private.
"Bianca," I said, reaching for Julia's hand. "This is—this is my wife. Julia."
"Julia. It’s so nice to meet you. I—" She looked at Julia, then back at me. "I'm crashing your wedding. I should have RSVP'd properly. I just—I was in New York anyway, and I thought—"
"You were in New York?" My protective instinct kicked in immediately. "Already? Why? You never come back here. You hate New York."
Something flickered across her face. Fear, definitely. Anger, too.
"It's complicated," she said.
"Bianca." I used the tone that meant business. The one she used to hate when we were kids. "What's wrong? Why are you really here?"
Another dismissive laugh. "Can we not do this at your wedding reception? You're supposed to be celebrating—"
"Bianca."
"Quin, please. Not tonight." She glanced around at the guests, some staring now. "We can talk tomorrow. I promise. I'll tell you everything. Just—can we pretend tonight that I'm just your sister who missed you? Who wanted to meet your wife? Who wanted to be part of your life again?"
I studied her face. Read all the signs I'd learned growing up with her. The way she bit her lip when she was upset. The wayher left hand twisted her bracelet when she was lying. The way her gaze darted around the room looking for danger.
Something was going on.
"You're in trouble," I said.
She shook her head. "No… I've just got stuff going on. It's my natural state." Her lips twisted and she shrugged. "Ask anyone who knew me at sixteen."
"Bianca—"
"Tomorrow. I’ll explain then." She grabbed my hand. "Please, Quin. Let it go. Let me just—let me be happy for you. For your marriage. For something good and normal and not—" Her voice cracked. "Okay?"
Every instinct screamed at me to push. To demand answers. To protect her from whatever had driven her back to the city she'd sworn never to return to.
But it was my wedding. And she was here. After twelve years, she was here.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Tonight. But tomorrow, you tell me everything."
"Sure," she agreed.
I pulled her into another hug. Felt her sigh against me.
"I love you, little sister."
"I love you too, big brother."
When we separated, she turned to Julia, trying to compose herself. "I'm so sorry. This is—gosh, this is such a terrible first impression. Hi. I'm Bianca. The long-lost sister who abandoned her family and shows up at weddings without properly confirming."
Julia took her offered hand. "Hi. I'm Julia. The wife who's just learning her husband has a sister. So, we're both surprising each other tonight."
