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“No problem!” Rosie grabbed me. “Make me human,” she whispered, begging me. “Please.”
“I’m no miracle worker, but let’s see what we have here.” I looked around. “Oh, great. A tap and paper towels. That’ll turn you into Scarlet Johansson.”
Rosie picked up the purse she’d dumped, then unzipped it. “Clutch. Makeup here. Make me look human and I won’t tell anyone your boyfriend is a big fat fake.”
“I love you, but you’re a bitch.” I picked up the concealer stick.
“Eh. Nobody would believe me.”
“What does that mean?” I turned her face to look at me.
Her eyes searched mine. “Nothing. Just that you’re doing a really good job at pretending you’re into each other.”
I glared at her, but hmphed and got on with it.
After all, it was her weekend.
She could believe what she liked.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – POPPY
Bad Ideas and Balconies
I groaned, slumping against the door of our room.
Adam laughed, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “At least we got Rosie to bed in one piece?”
“Oh, please. She wasn’t drunk.” I bent and pulled off my shoes, tossing them to the side. “She was pretending to be drunk to escape the hell that is our family.”
He paused. “Well, then, she did a good job at pretending.”
“Of course she did. She spent long enough as a teen pretending she was sober. She knows exactly how to be drunk.” I pushed off the door, making sure it had locked.
“I’m sure that was just her.”
“I would like to invoke my right to remain silent.” I crossed to the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “My teen years also have the right to remain silent.”
“By silent, you mean forgotten and ignored.”
“You don’t know my life, hockey boy.”
He laughed, grabbing a half-sized bottle of champagne. “The sun is still going down. Want to join me on the world’s tiniest balcony?”
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No.
You’re doing a really good job at pretending you’re into each other.
I hated my sister for planting that in my head.
“Sure. Why not?” I pulled the bobby pins out of the side of my head one by one and tossed them onto the coffee table.
My shoulders were tight. I could feel the horrible squeezing of my muscles as I took two champagne glasses from the top of the mini fridge. Tonight had been close to disaster—not that I actually believed my sister would elope—but we almost didn’t pass it off well enough.
Shark week had been our excuse, and if my mom asked, Rosie thought her period had started and needed me to get lady supplies.
Yeah.
It wasn’t the best, but it was about the only time I’d ever thanked Mother Nature for periods in my life.
I stepped out onto the balcony with Adam. A gentle sea breeze caught my hair, and I was thankful for the soft chill it brought with it. The ballroom had been hot, and the stress of my family had made me feel even hotter with all the fuss they’d made over just about everything.
I tugged up my dress and sat down on the floor next to Adam. “They could have given us chairs.”
“Where would they put them? Inside?” He chuckled, pulling the tab on the champagne to remove the foil.
“Seriously, though. That huge suite and we can barely sit our asses on this balcony.”
“Never mind our asses—I can barely cross my legs.”
“Well, they are about five feet long,” I said, shifting so there was enough room between us to put the champagne glasses.
Adam shifted, bracing himself to pop the cork. “Ready?”
“Yes. Just don’t pop it over the—”
Pop.
“Balcony,” I finished, watching as the cork sailed over the top of the balcony and smoke swirled out of the bottle.
Adam turned to me, looking innocent. “Where else was I supposed to pop it? Into you?”
“No. That would be dumb.” And painful. “I was just thinking that if someone was under the balcony…”
“I didn’t hear anyone scream.” He shrugged and picked up the first glass, tilting it to fill it without a ton of bubbles. He passed it to me when he was done. “We can look for it tomorrow.”
“There’s wedding tomorrow.”
“At six-thirty in the evening,” he replied. “I think we’ll have time.”
“Did you see my mother today?”
Adam stilled. “I did, and I think that’s exactly why you need to be nowhere near her.”
He wasn’t exactly wrong, was he?
“I know, but I have things to do. The wedding planner will handle most of it, but there are little things that are my responsibility.”
“Like making sure your sister doesn’t need to be drugged again.”
“Exactly that.” I tilted my glass in his direction. “I don’t know how much spare time I’ll have.”
“Well.” Adam put the champagne bottle down to the side and rested his head against the wall.
While the balcony was thin, it was long. I’d have preferred short and fat to stretch my legs out, but I wasn’t paying for this room, so I couldn’t really complain, could I?
