Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Anna lets out a shocked breath. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Do you honestly care that much about the money?”
I open my mouth and then close it again. I may not have the words yet for what’s going on between the two of us, but talking about the family trust opens up the trapdoor to feelings I can identify, feelings like guilt and obligation, panic and loyalty and dread. “I can’t just walk away. It’s not that simple,” I say, hoping she’ll leave it.
But this is Anna. She never leaves anything. “Then explain it like I’m a toddler.”
“It’s—” I cut off, shaking my head. “I’m not only here because of my inheritance. It’s much bigger than that.”
Her eyes go wide in disbelief. “Bigger than a hundred million dollars?”
I look over at her and nod, but that’s all I can do for now because we’re here, out in front of the party tent.
Anna threads her arm through mine and we step in together, taking it all in. It’s not technically a costume party, but I spot an attempt at Audrey Hepburn in the crowd, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz look-alikes, a Sammy Davis Jr., and a handful of Marilyns. A band plays in the corner, a backdrop behind them built to look like the Southern California skyline, complete with towering palm trees, art deco buildings, twinkling windows, and of course, the HOLLYWOOD sign. Long tables are dressed in glittering fabric and topped with vases of arching white ostrich plumes.
Gold dominates everything, from the towering croquembouche wrapped in golden spun sugar to yards of gossamer fabric and shimmering beads draped along the tent’s outer walls. It strikes me that there aren’t any flowers anywhere; instead, the real showstopper is a gilded tree in the center of the room, its branches heavy with pearls and teardrops of sparkling gems. I can only hope it’s all fake, because while what they’ve managed to pull off on a tiny island in the middle of the ocean is impressive, I agree with Anna: some beers and beach chairs would be preferable to this every time. If they wanted something this lavish, this elaborate, why not just host the wedding in California, where everything is right there?
But I know why. Everything—literally everything—is for show.
Even this woman on my arm.
Next to me, Anna looks out over the extravagance and whistles. “Just another simple family get-together. I hope I never get used to this.”
I drag my free hand through my hair. “Yeah.”
Anna turns to me, arms outstretched dramatically like she’s ready for me to waltz her across the dance floor. She speaks out of her mouth, playfully old-timey: “What do you say, old chum? Ready for some hotsy-totsy?”
I give her an apologetic smile. “I was thinking I might check in on my sister. I haven’t seen much of her since we’ve been here. I’ll find you when I’m done?”
Her face falls but in true Anna fashion, it bounces right back again. “Okay, yeah.”
With a little smirk, she stretches, kissing my cheek and whispering, “See ya later, weirdo,” in my ear before she walks across the room to the bar, where Jake and Jamie are talking. Feelings I thought I’d banished return, hot and insistent. Is she doing this on purpose? Walking to Jamie to make me jealous?
With a groan, I take a glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter and pull in a deep breath. Anna’s right: I’m being a basket case. If my urge is to run from her, to disentangle myself from whatever it is we started and which tripped this strange, impatient feeling in my gut, then the best thing for it is to imagine her moving on, to remind myself that, in only a handful of days, we will both move on, and in a matter of months, we will never have to see each other ever again.
And yet here I stand, decidedly not finding my sister, instead watching heads turn as Anna crosses the room. This place is full of beautiful gowns, but nobody looks like her. Even if her dress is simple, it fits her like a glove—hugging the narrow dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the decadent curve of her ass. Wherever fabric exposes flesh, her skin seems to glow under the strung lights.
Jake greets her with a kiss to the cheek, saying something that makes her burst out laughing bawdily. She does a little dance and Jake immediately joins in, sending the three of them into hysterics.
“What has you smiling like this?”
I look over at my mother, who has materialized at my side. I… hadn’t realized I’d been smiling. She’s dressed like Grace Kelly, in a fitted black top and full white skirt, her usual updo smoothed back into loose blond curls. My mother idolized Grace Kelly when we were growing up and has dressed as her character from Rear Window to at least half a dozen fancy Halloween parties. Now she tracks my attention to Anna standing with Jake. “Ah. I see.” My mother brings her glass to her mouth, taking a long sip of her dirty martini. “She looks lovely in that gown.”