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I quickly pick myself up, brushing off the embarrassment with a light chuckle. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tripped over my own two feet, I guess." I shuffle my foot against the rogue chair leg, sending it a mock glare.
Lily offers a relieved, slightly amused smile, although her brows still knit in concern. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yep," I reply as I stand up straight, still grinning. "Just a little clumsy sometimes."
As I leave the room, I groan softly to myself.
Smooth, Watts. Real fucking smooth.
Chapter two
Lily
"Rachel,whattheheckhappened in here?"
My older sister's face falls at my words, her earlier excitement quickly replaced with disappointment.
"You don't like it?" she asks with a worried look.
I sigh, doing my best to hold back a grimace as I glance around my sister's guest room.
The walls, once a soothing shade of cream, are now a vibrant fuchsia, dotted with a smattering of neon green and electric blue decals. Rachel's love for bold, unusual designs is evident in every piece of mismatched furniture scattered throughout the room.
"It's...interesting," I finally say, trying to keep my voice neutral. I can't help but wonder what our mother's reaction will be. "But you know how Mom is. She wants everything to be perfect."
I've just arrived at my sister's bungalow to help her get her house ready for our Mom's upcoming visit. And if this guest room is any indication, we are going to have our work cut out for us.
Our mother, with her golden hair, slender figure, and flawless complexion, is the personification of perfection. She demands the same level of flawlessness from everyone and everything around her, including her daughters, who, unfortunately, don't fit into her mold.
We grew up in a fancy suburb in Bozeman, where appearances are everything. The homes were pristine, the lawns manicured, and the people picture-perfect. It was a world where a single chipped nail could spark neighborhood gossip, and God forbid if your roses weren't the right shade of red.
Rachel slumps against the door frame, letting out a long breath. "I wish Dad was still here," she whispers.
Our Dad was an artist with a free spirit and a love of color - much like Rachel. He was the exact opposite of our Mom, and we were always closer to him than we were to her.
He understood us, accepted us, and loved us without trying to fit us into the perfect little molds that Mom so desperately wanted for us. He taught us that beauty lies in imperfection, like a breath of fresh air in a stifling room.
Late last year, the world lost its color when our Dad passed away. Since then, things haven't been the same. Unable to bear the perfection-obsessed world of Bozeman without him, I moved to Cooper Hills to be closer to Rachel. My sister and I have always been close, and the familiarity of her eccentric tastes comforted me.
I reach out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Me too."
Rachel gives me a small smile in response to my squeeze. "Let's take a break. I could really go for a snack, you know."
"That sounds like a good idea."
We retreat to her cozy living room, and it's bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights that are hanging from the ceiling. My sister is an art teacher at Acorn Elementary, and the decor in the living room is just as vibrant as her classroom.
The couch is a deep purple, the rug a wild mix of patterns and colors, and the walls are adorned with Rachel's students' artwork. Reindeer cutouts, paper snowflakes, and glitter-covered gingerbread men are just some of the pieces that make up her winter-themed gallery wall.
Rachel heads into the kitchen, returning shortly with a tray laden with an assortment of Christmas treats and mugs of steaming hot chocolate. She sinks into the plush cushions of the couch and reaches for a golden-brown muffin from the tray, biting into it with a sigh of contentment. She grabs another one and holds it out to me.
"You want one, Lil?"
For a second, I feel my traitorous stomach start to grumble, but I swallow the feeling down.
"No thanks. I had something before I came over."
Rachel raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
