Page 57 of Crushes to WHAT

My hands shake when I go in for the next cut, and I pull them back before I butcher Penelope’s hair. She’s had quite enough of that, I think. I’m here to fix, not worsen.

“Eris, if you’re going to be cranky, then fine, but can you be cranky silently?” Poem asks. “We can hash out whatever stick you have up your a-”

“Poem!” Mom scolds.

“Later,” Poem finishes. “Today is your brother’s wedding day, whether you like it or not. You can feel how you feel, and that’s fine. Later, if you’re right, you can give everybody a great, big I told you so. For today, though? You need to, please, shut your mouth, fix your face, and cultivate your acting skills. Because I’m being nice, but if you ruin my best friend’s wedding, I’m going to ruin your life.”

Eris offers no further comments. She doesn’t go so far as to smile, but she does nicely blank her face, which is probably as good as we’re going to get.

I consider it a blessing and shoot Poem a grateful smile.

While Mom fusses over Amia’s dress and Eris stands stiffly beside a toolbox, Leora and Poem come and huddle near me.

“Is she too old for you to put in a timeout?” Leora asks Penelope. “Or perhaps you could make her write lines? I know where to get some whiteboards for it.”

Penelope sighs. “I had a talk with her this morning after Emerson texted us about meeting up here, but…” She trails off with another sigh. “She’s a good girl, but can be a bit stubborn. She gets it from my mom, and, if you ask my mom, a little bit from me. She’ll come around when things settle down and she’s had a minute to sit with them.”

I hum. This is pretty much my take as well.

Poem and Leora are not so easily appeased.

“Bet she’d come around even faster if we got whiteboards involved,” Poem mutters.

Leora concurs.

My lips twitch, and I make the final cut in Penelope’s hair.

“All done!” I declare, swishing the cape off her tastefully sparkling alabaster dress.

She stands and leans in close to the mirror that has somehow survived Emerson’s demolishing spree. “Oh,” she gasps, delight lighting her warm brown eyes. “Almond, this is…” Tears well in her eyes as she grasps for words.

“Totally hot,” Poem suggests.

“Celestial,” Leora offers.

“Beautiful,” Eris grumbles, ill-tempered. “Of course it’s beautiful. No one is as talented as Almond, and no one is as pretty as my mom, so obviously together that equals gorgeous.”

I very carefully do not react to her words, though they warm my heart considerably and light a bigger hope within me. If she’s still willing to compliment me, then she really will come around. You don’t compliment people you plan to hate for life.

“Thank you, darling girl,” Penelope says, reaching a hand behind her until Eris takes hold of it. They squeeze, then release, and a line on Eris’ forehead softens.

“And thank you, Almond.” Penelope turns to me with gratitude exuding from her every pore. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

“I’m happy to do it,” I tell her honestly. “You’re stunning, Penelope, and you deserve to feel like it, too.”

Her eyes scrunch, then I’m enveloped in her arms, and she’s squishing me tight. “Thank you.”

I squish her back happily.

When she lets me go, I turn to face the women in the room, beaming. “Now we’re ready,” I declare. “I’m so grateful for each of you, and so full of love for all that you’ve poured into my life, be it a lot or a little. I feel so cared for and cherished today, and I hope that each of you feels a little bit of that back from me—even you, Eris. I see you showing up despite your reservations, and I’m grateful to have you here.” I look at every woman in turn, from little girl to matron of my family, and I let the depths of my sincerity shine for each of them. “I love you guys from the bottom of my heart to the top.”

Several eyes water, and several mouths open to respond, but the door connecting my studio to the rest of my house slams open, and my dark-haired brother bursts forth.

He scans the room, and a deep line between his eyebrows makes an appearance. “You’re ready,” he states.

“You’re obnoxious,” I reply. “We were having a really nice moment.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t having a really nice moment. I was having flashbacks to sharing a bathroom with you in high school, waiting around for ages while the clock ticked, denoting exactly how late we would be.”