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“Oh har-har. Very funny.” She snarks in that delightfully flowery way she does. “So, did you really agree to Mom’s demands?”
“Oh, uhh…about that.” I grimace as her chiming laughter fills the call.
“You weren’t listening to a thing she said once again, huh?”
“Well…no. But for good reason! There was this funny video of the-”
“I know all about the video, Kitty-Kat. I was the one who showed Mom.”
I hiss down the line, now glaring at a stain of red sauce on the otherwise white and black streaked marble in front of me. “Traitor!”
“To be fair, I didn’t know who he was or that she was the one who sent him there when I did. I just saw your security putting an obvious dickhead in his place, and thought Mom would enjoy it.”
“Fine. You’re safe from retribution. For now.” I start tapping my fingernails on the counter, making them click in that satisfying way. “So what the hell did I agree to?”
She chuckles noisily before she’s shushing someone next to her–probably her fiance Ethan–but it does no good and they both dissolve into giggles. I roll my eyes, but I’m not genuinely annoyed. I love that they are so happy and close. My sister deserves a man like Ethan has shown me he is. Hell, he worships the ground she walks on.
“Alright, kids. Spit it out. Momma’s got a date with a beautiful redhead tonight.”
“Psht. You mean a bottle of red wine? I’m not mom, Kitty-Kat. I know you.”
“Fair enough. But seriously, just tell me already.”
“You agreed to bring a date to my wedding.” She erupts into giggles once more, as if she is truly enjoying dropping that atom bomb on the top of my head.
It’s probably the worst possible thing I could have agreed to so blindly. My sister’s upcoming wedding isn’t just a day of ceremony and celebration. It’s an entire week and a half full of events and surprises that I don’t even have all the information on. Not only that…it’s a destination wedding. Which means, whoever my date is, will be sharing a hotel room with me at a glorious, beautiful, and romantic resort for the entire time. The place has been fully booked for months.
Can someone say forced proximity trope?
What was supposed to be a fun and relaxing vacation for me, myself, and I, will now be a tortuous event that will make my busybody mother absolutely giddy.
Shit. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and date two redheads tonight.
I’m a great multitasker, afterall.
Chapter 3
“Man! I feel like a wom-” My amazing rendition of Shania Twain’s epic hit is cut off as I slide one foot too far out in my tipsy-deluded spin, ending up in a pile of limbs and cozy sweats on the marble floor of my kitchen. The song continues playing even as I groan and extract myself from my predicament.
Flipping the hair falling from my messy bun out of my face, I’m extremely proud to see that I didn’t spill a single drop of wine. Damn. I wish someone were here to see that epicness. I manage to pull myself to my feet, blowing another stray lock of dark brown hair out of my face. It takes four tries, but when it leaves my sight, I grin and pump my fist in celebration.
It’s the small things, you know.
The song ends and in the silence between tracks of what I deemed Kitty-Kat’s Tracks–available to the public on Spotify now–I hear a knock at my door. “Go away!” I shout the words before squealing as Worth It by Fifth Harmony starts blasting from my soundbar. Within a few beats, I’m shimmying and gyrating like a mad woman, but who cares. It’s Friday night, and I can do what I want. And what I want to do is dance like nobody’s watching as I drown in the good stuff.
Though, apparently, life has other plans for me.
A feminine giggle manages to pierce through the momentary lapse of bumping music and I spin in place to see my sister in the doorway with a wide grin on her face, her fiance behind her, covering his mouth with his palm.
“Hey, Jackass, pause music!” I yell out, waiting for my personalized AI smart system to do as I command. It listens far better than the real live people in my life. As showcased by the little shit standing in my entryway. “I told you not to come.” I practically whine to her, shooting a glare at Ethan as he chuckles behind her.
“Yeah, Kitty-Kat, I know. But you’re well aware that I rarely do what I’m told.” She sticks out her tongue at me, whirling and sloppily smacking a kiss to Ethan’s cheek. “See you later, Tin-Man.”
I exaggeratedly gag at her cutesy nickname, which only prompts her to giggle and kiss him again with a dramatic moan that would give any nineties romance movie a run for its money. He catches on to her game and does the same.
“In a while, Doll-Face.” I’m barely able to catch a glimpse of the grimace on my sister’s face as he chooses the absolute wrong nickname, given our history with the haunted doll who carries my sister’s namesake.
Like the child I am, I push the bright red button that’s been dangled in front of my face as I move to the counter to refill my empty glass of wine. “Yeah, Doll-Face. He’ll see you in his nightmares tonight.”
