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Today, I just looked into the mirror, locked onto her glare, and pulled the sides of my mouth up another inch. Forget ear to ear, my smile practically stretched to the ceiling.
I could have told her that I had not only met the man of my dreams, but he wanted me too. And not for a month, long enough to secure his place at the top of his company, but for years. He'd said years.
I leaned closer to the mirror, touching up my peach colored lipgloss. Lara didn't budge from where she stood, trying to glare me into submission. Maybe she wanted a reply after all.
I lowered my lipgloss onto the vanity, my smile never leaving my face. I remembered the last time we were all made up in pretty dresses. The night I met Xander. I'd felt so out of place. I was just as pretty as the girls that surrounded me, just as accomplished. I let them convince me that I didn't belong; that I had to grin and bear it just to prove I earned a right to stand next to them. I'd be standing next to them again in a matter of minutes, and looking into Lara's pretty, cruel face, I realized that I had nothing to prove to her. If I wanted, I could ignore her altogether. Rubbing my happiness with Xander in her face was something she'd do. Besides, she'd see it with her own eyes at the reception.
I twirled one of the curly ringlets that the stylist had weaved in and out of my side braid and batted my false eyelashes at her. “Don't you just love weddings?”
“Ugh,” she snarled. She bit off a cuss word or two as she barreled through her friends and out the door. It clicked shut and I turned back to my reflection. To be honest, I looked nothing like me. Every blemish was hidden, every imperfection contoured out of existence. My bone straight hair that usually hung like limp pasta had volume and lift. My mermaid braid even had texture, curls dipping and cradling the plait like a work of art. The last minute alterations ensured that the strapless gown hung on me just right and the corset beneath made my tiny boobs look luscious. Even though I felt like I was in a costume, 'me' radiated from within. I knew that underneath all the glitz and glamour, I was just as sexy. Xander desired me when I showed my freckles, without the push up factor, without the pound of makeup. And more than that, his love reminded me that at the end of the day, boring old Penny Robertson was more than enough.
The door swung open and I gripped the edge of the vanity, sure Lara had returned for a rematch. When I tossed my eyes in her direction, my heart stalled. It wasn't Lara. It was my sister...and she was beautiful.
Of course she was beautiful, she could make an ugly Christmas sweater and crimped hair look beautiful. I needed a thesaurus to put it in words. Breathtaking. Glorious. Freaking amazing. Her pale blonde hair was pulled to the crown of her head, a sea of intricate braids and curls pinned with jewels and tiny pearls. Instead of the usual makeup styling, enhancing her already devastating good looks, she went minimalist, her cheeks and eyes glowing with a slight shimmer. Her bright eyes glittered, framed with a swipe of mascara. Her lips shimmered with a rosy pink gloss. And the dress...I wasn't used to spending much more than $50 on a dress, but her vintage gown was worth every penny. The lace clung to her torso and hips and flared out at the knee. As everyone clamored over to her to ooo and ahh, she flashed one of her shoes, blood red pumps that matched the ruby red studs that glittered in her ears—and the rose bouquet that my mother was clutching like a child.
I felt real tears building as I watched Victoria beam and do a conservative happy dance with her friends. When she looked in my direction, I expected her to spare a smile and go back to celebrating with the people that mattered. But she pushed past her fans and barreled toward me. Before I could gasp or turn around to see if one of her friends was behind me, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed so tight that I thought she'd break something. Usually, I'd complain or stand there awkwardly, sure it was all an act; like she was up for Sister of the Year and was damned if she wasn't snagging the trophy. This time, I felt something. It felt a lot like love.
She let me go hesitantly and looked down at me, a full head above me with her stilettos. “You look gorgeous Pen!”
As if her hug wasn't enough, hearing her call me the nickname she used when we were kids, before it became clear that I was the oddball and she was the pretty one, back when we were thick as thieves...it was enough to make the tears free fall.
“M-me?” I blubbered. “You're the gorgeous one!”
“Tissue!” Victoria called out and in a blink of an eye a tissue appeared. She gently cradled my chin, dabbing at my cheeks. “You're going to mess up your makeup.”
And there was the Victoria I knew, the spitting image of my mother. Appearances over truth, always. I took the tissue from her and shut off the waterworks. “Thanks. Hard to not get emotional when you look so gorgeous, Vick.” I knew the sound of the nickname I used to call her would draw a scowl that would force her back a few steps.
She did one better and stepped back about ten, like she could see herself at that awkward preteen stage, braces, acne and all. “You look pretty too, Penelope.”
Almost as if she knew that I was close to accidentally spilling something stain worthy on my sister, my mother bounced into view, still cradling the bouquet. “Just look at my daughters! One headed down the aisle, the other not far behind!”
Victoria's eyes turned navy with anger. “Don't be silly, Mom. She barely knows this Xander guy.” She gave me a look that reminded me of our conversation yesterday when she told me Xander would break my heart. I longed to tell her that she was wrong. That we talked and we were headed somewhere positive, but it was clear she'd made up her mind. Only time and actually getting to know Xander would show her that his player days were behind him.
“Nonsense,” Mom scoffed. She guided Victoria back to the vanity and yanked me beside them. We were quite the trio. Two platinum blondes and a honey one. Two that looked like mother and daughter, and a third that looked vaguely related. I drew a breath and looked again. Three that looked utterly beautiful, Victoria in her gown, me in my scarlet dress, and my mother in her rosy red two piece suit.
My mother reached out and gripped our hands. She was all teeth, squeezing my fingers until I felt like they would fall off. “Aren't we a pretty picture!”
Victoria and I rolled our eyes in unison.
My mother broke out of the frame, craning her neck toward the door. “Where on earth is that photographer I'm paying a fortune for!” She dashed off to yell at the poor woman, leaving me and my sister in front of the mirror.
I tossed my sister a shrug and struggled to find something to say. Some sage advice to give before she walked down the aisle. “Ready to change your last name?” I nearly smacked my forehead.
Victoria just leaned closer to the mirror, adjusting the birdcage veil that dipped over one of her eyes. “You didn't really invite that man to the wedding, did you?”
We were doing so well. I should have known it was too good to be true. “Do you mean my boyfriend?”
“Penny, really!” she hissed, whirling to face me. She teetered on her heels and her friends rushed to save their queen, but she waved them off. “Can you guys go in the hall? We're rolling in like two minutes.”
They leapt into action without a single huff of dissent, filing out of the room one by one. The stylist remained, but a glare from my sister made her scatter from the room too.
When we were alone, Victoria turned to me. A glacial, beautiful scowl was on her glossy lips. She placed both hands on her hips. If she wasn't so concerned about money and prestige, she would have made one hell of a teacher. “I warned you about him. I know for a fact that you're not an idiot. And after what your ex did-”
“Don't you dare compare him to Marshall,” I growled. Bride or not, I squared off with her. “And you didn't reach out to me once after we broke up, so you really don't get to invoke his name to support your misplaced concern about my poor, pathetic heart.”
Her eyes widened. I'd never stood up to her. I grinned and took it. That had always been our dynamic.
“Most little sisters would appreciate their big sisters looking out for them-”
