AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She left the room, and Marie took a seat on one of the folding chairs beside me, checking over her shoulder for Lea before offering me one of the hors d’oeuvres.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully before popping a salmon puff into my mouth. “Dang, that’s good. I’m starving.”
“Of course you are,” Kate remarked. “You’re baking a baby over there.”
“That was good. Let me try the other one. What is it?”
“Goat cheese mousse with shaved endive,” Marie said as I chomped down. “Pasteurized, of course. Xavier’s orders. I think it turned out pretty well.”
“Indeed, it did,” I said, reaching for the last one on the tray.
“You know, you could wait,” Marie said quietly enough that Kate wouldn’t hear. “On the wedding, I mean. You still have time.”
I swallowed my bite and examined her. “Why would I do that?”
Marie set the tray down on the dressing table and immediately started fidgeting with the collar of her own pink dress. True to form, it was also floor length, though to my surprise, the design included a slit to the knee that showed off one of my sister’s legs. It was probably the most revealing thing Marie had worn since childhood.
“Just in case,” she said. “Itisfast. If you didn’t want to stay here, you could come to Paris with me. You and Sofia both. Have your own adventure without him, but stay close enough to London that you could see him when you want. Really, I have loads of space. The Lyons family gave me their apartment in St. Germain for the year, and it’s really more like a house in the middle of Paris. There are about a thousand bedrooms, and—”
“Oh, Mimi,” I said, dropping my hand over hers. “I so appreciate that. I really do.”
It sounded truly amazing, living in one of the most vibrant districts in Paris. Two months ago, I might have jumped at the invitation.
“But I have no reservations here,” I told her. “I cannot wait to marry Xavier. I cannot wait to start our life together.” I tipped my head as something else occurred to me. “Marie, is everything okay out there? Is that why you’re asking me?”
An odd expression crossed my sister’s face—something between happiness and jealousy. It pinked her cheeks in a way I hadn’t seen before, only adding to the general impression we’d all gotten yesterday when she arrived from LaGuardia, looking like a completely different person.
The waist-length, mousy hair she typically tied into a bun had been cut to her shoulders in shiny, natural waves. Her glasses had disappeared, her nails were trimmed and manicured, and the shapeless sack dresses traded for more form-fitting if still conservative clothes that revealed a delicate bone structure and tiny waist. The changes were subtle, but it was obvious that the whole was more than the sum of its parts.
Marie was quietly transforming from a bit of an ugly duckling into an elegant swan—and she was doing it on the other side of the world, away from her entire family.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“It’s…different over there,” she admitted. “In a lot of ways. Sometimes I do miss home.”
“Well, the difference looks good on you,” I told her honestly. “I didn’t have a chance to say anything yesterday when you arrived, but you look amazing. Paris suits you.”
Marie’s cheeks flushed even more as she bit back a smile. “I had to get contacts,” she said. “Too many things splattered my lenses. And it was either cut my hair or net it every day. I didn’t want to look like a lunch lady. Joni already teases me enough.”
I grinned. “Joni can take a swim in the Hudson. It’s very chic. You look like Marion Cotillard.” I leaned closer. “Is any of this maybe inspired by…someone?”
“A guy, you mean?” Marie asked.
Her blush deepened even more. It made her look genuinely beautiful.
“I see,” I said with a grin. “So all thisisfor a guy.”
“It’s not for aguy,” Joni interrupted as she flopped into a chair next to Marie. “It’s for Daniel Lyons. I told you that.”
Now Marie was positively tomato red. “Shut up, Joni. It is not.”
“There is zero chance you got over him in less than three months,” Joni retorted. “You’ve beenobsessedwith him forever. Writing his name and your name with little hearts all over your recipe book. Since you were sixteen!” She turned to me. “That’s like eight years.”
“Nine,” Marie corrected petulantly. “I’m a year older than you. Sixteen plusnineis twenty-five.”
“I can do math,” Joni sputtered, though she was clearly embarrassed by Marie’s dig at her less-than-stellar arithmetic skills. “And ten months is not a year.”
“Hey, hell cats. Can we not on my wedding day?” I put in.
