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I despise wearing my hair up. As it is, I’d like to tear out the bobby pins holding back two small sections. “Thanks but I’ll leave it down.”
Fiona appraises me. “I’m glad you’ve gone back to black. The look suits you.”
Tess never even hinted that I ought to change my hair color for the wedding. But I change my hair color often and a switch was overdue. Besides, I didn’t want to ruin the wedding photos by standing out with a head of deep purple not found in nature. My real hair color is the iciest shade of blonde but I’ve been covering it for ten years. I plan to keep covering it.
A quick time check tells me that I need to cut this makeover short. I have a stop to make before Tess’s wedding.
There’s no decent mirror in my office so I run my fingers through the glossy black tresses hanging halfway down my back and smooth the folds of the dandelion-colored strapless gown before presenting myself for inspection.
“What do you think? Do I succeed as a conventional bridesmaid?”
Sophie applauds. “You aregorgeous. So lucky.”
Fiona checks me out and wiggles her eyebrows. “Lady, I’d fuck you in a heartbeat.”
With a snort of laughter, I shove my phone into my purse. “Too bad you never got to meet my sister. You would have loved her.”
Fiona and Sophie exchange a quick glance. Long enough for me to notice.
I know why. Naturally, everyone knows about Lita. But I rarely speak of her.
And now I hate what I just said.
Hate how I spoke about her in the past tense, as if she were dead.
My sister isn’t dead.
She’s just out of reach. Here but not here.
Years of agony can condense into the space of a single breath.
The long ordeal unfurls in my head with no option to switch it off. The piercing pain of waiting beside my twin’s bed after a sudden brain aneurysm left her in a coma. Doctors and tests and the prickly odor of antiseptic. Hospital rooms exchanged for other hospital rooms. Desperate tears shed in private. Fury with the world.
And later, the bitter acceptance of cruel reality.
When everything that can be done has been done already.
When there’s nothing left to do but hope, even when the odds grow weaker with each passing year.
Over a decade gone. More than a decade of guilt and regret and infinite loss with no end in sight.
No one who isn’t a twin can understand this. Because the rest of them are used to marching alone.
But those of us who arrived in the world together?
We’ve never been alone. And we suffer acutely when this changes with no warning.
These are not feelings I’m interested in sharing with anyone other than Lita. Even if I’ll never know whether she hears a word I say.
Shaking off the gloom, I briskly give Fiona her orders.
“If there’s any sign of trouble, don’t be timid about summoning the sharks.” I always keep a lineup of strong bouncers on staff to handle any rowdy behavior.
She hops off the edge of my desk. “No worries. I’ll imitate you.”
“In that case, be sure to flavor your language with a lot of ‘motherfuckers’.”
Fiona titters and holds the door for me. “Just enjoy the wedding. And if you happen to snag Conner Wiseman’s autograph on a cocktail napkin, I call dibs.”
