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“Mom!” I feigned shock. “Stop advising me to get laid.”
Her laughter was one of the best things in the world. “Go on. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye, Demetrius.”
“Goodbye, Petra.”
I waved at them when I opened the door to the lobby.
Once I was ensconced in my peaceful domain, I stripped away the clothes appropriate for public and tugged on yoga pants and a tank top. Stretching out on my couch, I took a quick nap, courtesy of my wine-filled luncheon.
Hours later, fresh coffee in hand, I walked barefoot through the home I loved to my office and got back to work.
The break did me good.
It went a long way to soothing how shitty I felt the day before when my sister shoved me into a dress sheknewwouldn’t fit properly and wasn’t in theleastflattering to my shape.
I might be Ava’s maid of honor but neither of us were under the illusion it was voluntary. I didn’t help with a fucking thing and no one dared to suggest I should.
They knew better.
I showed up at the countless fittings and events because I loved and respected my mother.
I spent the time with resting bitch face, waiting to capture the most humiliating photos of Ava and her friends.
It was relaxing to mentally outline the mocking post that would hit Facebook – courtesy ofmoi– when I was released from the hell the entire ordeal put me through.
Ava and the people she surrounded herself with were obnoxious shits. I snapped photos on the sly and recorded her ranting at the seamstress, baker, caterer, and photographer on countless occasions.
I disliked ninety percent of the people on the guest list for the bullshit circus, including several members of my family.
Being older than my sister by three years, only my aunts had the courage to ask when I planned to walk down the aisle.
I think my blank, borderline psychotic stare and total lack of response scared them a little.
Mission accomplished. Don’t ask stupid questions.
The one saving grace of Ava’s shit show was going to be the open bar with top shelf booze. I planned to drink myself through the entire thing without an ounce of guilt.
My kind of wedding.
Chapter Four
June 2015 – Ava’s Big Day
The wedding preparations further escalated our mutual sisterly irritation to deep-rooted resentment.
There was serious relief on my part when the magical event ofAva Andreadis and Kevin Welch request the pleasure of your companyfinally arrived.
It was almost over andnothingwas going to wipe the sarcastic smirk off my face.
I stood on the stage beside her bitchy friends after several months of wasted wit and far too much alcohol as my undoubtedly attractive sister shoved her bouquet at me and turned to face her fiancé.
It washilariouswatching a man you once dated, had sex with, and turned down for marriage getting hitched to your raging bitch of a sister.
Yeah, I might have neglected to mention one of the biggest reasons for the severe animosity between Ava and me.
Fucked up, am I right?
