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“She’s kidding,” I assure him. “I mean, who would wax until the freshman dance?” I hear him growl. “Still kidding,” I say, flopping down next to him. I pull my feet up under me and throw my arms around his broad shoulders. “Are you really this unhappy I talked you into letting her go?”
“No, not really. I just know the path her mother took. I don’t want that to ever happen to Tessa. She’s a good kid. A smart kid. But I can’t stop worrying that it’s somehow hereditary.”
“You didn’t follow the same path. From what I know about your parents, they are good people. Tessa has more of you in her than you realize,” I say. “She also saw what Gwyn’s decisions cost her. We’ve talked a lot about what Tessa wants her life to be. Your sister’s life isn’t it.”
“You have?” He pulls me snug against his chest.
“What else do you think we do in the evenings while you’re on shift? It’s easier for her to open up to me than risk disappointing her beloved uncle. Now, if I don’t head that way with some wine, they will turn on me.”
He kisses my temple before turning me loose. Owen is the best kisser. I don’t care where they’re aimed; everyone is a keeper. I return to the couch with a beer, which he takes happily. Then, with three glasses of wine and a soda on a tray, I head toward the cloud of hairspray emanating from Tessa’s room.
“How’s it going in here?” I ask, pushing the door open with my hip.
Tessa sits at the dressing table Brontë found at an antique store a couple of weeks ago. She has a grin covering her face as my sister works diligently at her hair.
“We decided on an updo with tendrils,” Tessa says excitedly.
“I mean, look at this bone structure,” Brontë says. “It should be shown off.”
“And these hazel eyes,” Austen adds. “I’ve got just the eyeshadow to make them pop.”
“Sounds like you’re in good hands,” I say. Pulling out my phone, I snap a few pictures. I want every moment captured. “What do you need me to do?”
“Food, El. The princess needs to eat,” Austen says.
Tessa giggles. If it keeps her this happy, I’ll happily slave away in the kitchen.
“I’m on it.”
Fortunately, I loaded up on snackish foods for this very occasion. Returning to the kitchen, I throw some pizza rolls in the oven to heat. I unwrap the container of vegetables and pop open a container of dip. A bowl of miniature chocolate bars is added to the tray. I remember the days of getting ready for school dances. This is far from my first rodeo.
When the tiny pizza rolls are done, I fix a plate for Owen. Don’t want hunger adding to his already grouchy mood. Setting it on his lap, I add a kiss on the cheek. Then I’m back down the hallway, laden with munchies. Inside the room, I find Tessa sporting the messiest, most fabulous updo I’ve ever seen. Brontë has outdone herself.
“Food break,” I announce, setting everything out on Tessa’s dresser. Brontë adds a little more hairspray to Tessa’s hair before letting her up. “I’ll grab more drinks.” I head back down the hallway.
I’m pouring another round of wine when there’s a knock at the door. It must be Rand. He’s the only person in this town that refuses to just walk in unannounced.
“Hey, we came for the unveiling,” Reed says. He has no qualms about walking right in. “Ooh, do you have more pizza rolls?”
I pour another bag on the cookie sheet and pop them into the oven. Reed saunters into the kitchen to rummage through the refrigerator. Pulling out two beers, he gives me a peck on the cheek.
“When the timer goes off, pull these out of the oven,” I instruct.
“Aye, Captain.”
He’s such a dork. It’s probably why he’s one of my best friends. Loading the drinks back up on the tray, I leave the men to their own devices. Rand is sprawled in one of the armchairs with Keats happily playing on the floor in front of him.
“Rand, make sure Reed checks on the pizza rolls in the oven when the timer goes off,” I say on the way by.
I love Reed, but sometimes the blonde in him kicks in. I don’t wait for Rand to answer. This time when I enter Tessa’s room, my sisters are sitting in front of her comparing eye shadow.
“Smoky eye with golds and greens,” Austen is confirming.
“Definitely,” Brontë agrees.
Having a model for a sister is finally starting to pay off.
“Nothing too over the top. No need to send Owen into a heart attack. Oh, and Reed and Rand are here,” I say.
