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I do, however, have a sense of humor and stop in front of one of the full-length mirrors and send my sisters a picture to the group chat.
Karessa: Your brother-in-law is a colossal asshole. He’s hidden my clothes and gave me this outfit.
Esme: ROTFL!!!! That is terrible. Take off your bra, get some glasses, put your hair in a bun, and go be his naughty librarian.
Imala. Lol. OMG Esme. Really? It doesn’t look that bad.
Karessa: You can have it then.
Esme: Please tell me you’re going shopping.
Imala: Please and thank you.
Karessa: You’re welcome Imala. Esme, the first chance I get.
Imala: You two are so dramatic.
Esme: Speaking of dramatic, I’m sending this to mom. Neeeeeow.
Karessa: I hope dad has his smelling salts ready. She is gonna pass out..
Imala: Ha!
Esme: By this outfit, I’m assuming you’re still holding out. I’m impressed.
Imala: Honestly, I thought you’d lost that battle already.
Karessa: Wow. You two have no faith.
Esme: We do, but..
She sends a photo of Oran from the reception. He’s hair is perfectly styled with his beard cut low and neat. His jacket is missing, leaving his white dress shirt to cling to a body I haven’t seen yet.
Esme: Look at him! I’d have assets in your name. I swear. I couldn’t sleep in the same bed with that every night and not touch. Gah!
Imala: Take a cold shower, sis.
Karessa: Which one?
Imala: Both of you.
I’m giggling by the time I make it to the dining room. Ainslee is at the table alone, staring off into space. Her eyes mimic saucers when she spots me in my Oran approved get up.
“Um… this has Oran written all on it.” Her gray eyes shine with amusement as she surveys the evil deeds of my husband.
“You know it.” I flop down across from her. “You know what this means, right?”
Ainslee perks up and puts down her phone to clap excitedly. “Shopping and girl’s time! We need to pick club outfits for tonight, and I can do your makeup for my vlog tutorial!”
“I’m all yours. You can’t do any worse than Oran.”
Ainslee snickers as she covers her hand. “He’s just as big of an asshole as Jagger. A turtleneck.” She hits the table as she allows her mirth to take over. “I’m dying!” She chortles as she wipes her eyes. “It’s warm outside!”
I can’t help but join her. “He gets on my nerves.”
“Don’t worry, sis. The outfit we get tonight will knock him on his ass.”
* * *
