Chapter 4

4

L IZ

I finish putting on my makeup, brushing my hair, and looking in the mirror, and I am finally happy with how I look.

Things look all right. A deeper shade of red on my lips would look better in the pictures.

Taking pictures of myself is number three on my list of life goals, and it could mean anything, from dancing for tips on the internet to finding a sugar daddy or hooking up with someone on a dating site.

I'm open to anything.

Number one is keeping my part-time job at Maggie's, my favorite store in town, where I buy almost all my clothes.

Number two on my list is holding onto my writing, although my muse is a complete asshole.

I'll stop at that.

Number four has to do with me living on my own.

A noise comes from the garage, making me whip my eyes to the front of the house.

My mother is here, and there's no point in her seeing me like this, so I swivel and collect my things––the makeup case, a few clothes, and my eyeliner and lipstick.

Fake lashes would set off the color of my eyes, deepening my gaze. This is something to consider the next time I prep myself for a photo session.

This was only a rehearsal.

I sprint to my room, toss everything into a drawer, run my fingers through my hair, pull it up into a bun, and go straight to the bathroom.

Within seconds, I grab a few cotton rounds and a bottle of oil-based makeup remover and clean my face.

Face makeup-free, I turn around and rush out.

Moments later, I help my mother unload the groceries before we both walk in.

She wears a blue dress and sunglasses.

"What?" she asks as I peer at her.

"You look good."

Removing her glasses, she gives me a suspicious smile.

"What did you do, Liz?'

"Nothing."

She drops the paper bags onto the counter and looks at me sideways while I set the rest of the groceries on the table.

"You have an answer for me," she murmurs.

"Maybe," I say, smiling mysteriously. "Chloe is back."

"Ahh…"

She slides her sunglasses onto the counter.

"She convinced you to go to Thea's wedding."

Grinning smugly, I stay quiet.

"You're such a princess," she says, shifting toward me, clasping her hand on her hip, and leaning into the counter. "When did you become such a princess?"

I don't have time to come up with an answer when the sound of a car slowing down and pulling into our driveway makes us both look in that direction.

"Are we having guests for dinner?" I ask.

"No," my mother says, moving to the window.

I follow her closely when the car we don't recognize comes to a full stop.

The back passenger side door opens, and a woman pushes out, holding a garment bag.

"Oh, my. Thea…" I say, spinning around, not knowing where to run.

"What is wrong with you?" my mother chides me.

"I'm in my room," I say, rushing to my bedroom.

Moments later, I walk in, jerk to a stop, and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my mind.

I haven't seen Thea in weeks. She was busy. And I wasn't that busy, but I pretended to be.

She must be here for me.

Definitely for me.

They chat in the living room briefly before their voices trail to my bedroom.

Terry pushes the door open like we didn't just talk moments ago and steps to the side, inviting Thea in.

For a second, my eyes go wide.

I never thought a few weeks in someone's life could trigger such a change.

A smile clings to her lips, her eyes sparkling when they meet mine.

"Liz…" she says, setting the garment bag on the bed and opening her arms.

I do the same and hug her.

She smells like oranges and roses, and when we tear away from each other, I can't help but run my eyes over her.

She looks different, and I have a hard time saying in what way. She wears navy cigarette pants, flats, a white tank top, and a short pink jacket.

She barely wears any makeup, and she looks flawless.

Her face is glowing, and her eyes are alive while peacefulness and calmness roll over her.

I've never seen her so happy.

"What?" she asks, aware I'm gawking at her.

"Nothing. You did something to your hair?"

A quiet laugh falls from her lips.

"I brushed it in a rush before coming here. Why?"

"It looks good. You look good," I murmur, unable to take my eyes away from her.

"Okay…" my mother says. "I'll let you two catch up. Do you need anything, Thea? Something to drink? A snack?"

"No, thank you. I won't be long. Ed and I go out tonight, so I need to go home."

"Okay. It was nice seeing you," my mother says before walking away.

The door is closed when Thea peeks at me.

"You look so damn good," I say in a different voice, grinning. "What is going on?"

I show her to my bed, yet she chooses to sit in the only chair in the room.

"Nothing." She laughs. "Well… Everything."

"He's treating you right."

"I can't complain."

"And the twins?"

"They're great. He's with them."

I lean back against a stack of pillows.

"He likes being a dad."

"More than you can imagine. They're good kids too."

"James and Leia."

"Yup. James and Leia," she says, reaching inside her pocket and pulling out her phone.

She taps the screen, scrolls down, and shows me their most recent photos.

"Who would've thought?" I murmur, studying the pictures of the twins with their mother and father in the background.

I don't know who took their pictures, but they did a great job at snapping those candid moments.

"You both look great," I say quietly, studying them.

Thea has always looked uncomfortable with her first husband. You could tell something was wrong even when he hugged her and tried to make it look like he cared about her.

Nolan, the professor who cheated on her, may have been many things, but he had never been a good actor.

There is no acting in Ed Preston's touch.

His muscular arm is draped around Thea, who's peering down, a secret smile on her face.

Despite her fears of the unknown when she met him and the sinking feeling in her chest she's talked about so many times, she's made it.

"You make him happy," I say, returning her phone as my mind goes to the man I met today at the coffeehouse.

Why would a man like David Moore be so reluctant to have what Thea and Ed have?

My curiosity remains unsatisfied as I shift my eyes to the garment bag.

"Oh. About that…" she says, noticing the direction of my gaze and pushing out from her seat. She lifts it from the bed. "And the reason why I'm here," she murmurs. "Terry told me you weren't sure about coming to my wedding."

I flick my gaze to my cousin, drowning in guilt and shame.

Why would my mother tell her that?

I expect my cousin to be mad, yet she seems unable to have hard feelings toward me.

Regardless, I'm petrified.

"She must've told you it had nothing to do with you. I only needed a little time."

She stops me with a gesture.

"Don't feel bad. You know me. I'm the Queen of indecisiveness."

"I'll come. Chloe and I go shopping for a dress."

"No need to," she says, removing the garment bag and revealing a stunning lace gown.

It's fitted all the way except for the flared bottom. The lace is delicate and done in the faintest shade of dusty pink.

"I thought it would go great with the color of your hair."

She holds it up.

"Oh. It's strapless."

"Yes. It has a corset built in for support."

She notices the questioning look on my face before she speaks.

"I want you to be my flower girl."

A smile slides over my lips.

"Your flower girl?"

"Yes."

"Like an adult flower girl?"

"Yup. Why not?"

"Scattering petals while walking ahead of you?"

"Precisely."

She seems unfazed while I crumble inside.

If my world hadn't come to an end before it just did.

I try to imagine myself as the center of attention even if only for a few moments.

All eyes on me.

My hands trembling on the flowers as I'm struggling not to step on my dress and stumble.

All those men looking at me.

My mother. And Chloe.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything."

"Isn't this the job of some cute little girl?"

"Do you know any cute little girls? Mine is not even a year old. Rain is still breastfeeding. So no. You're perfect."

"How can I be perfect? I'm too old for this job and want to dye my hair fiery red."

She looks at me with a hint of seriousness before chuckling, entertained.

"You're so easy, Liz."

She lays the beautiful dress down and runs her fingers over the fabric.

"You mean you were joking?"

"I mean, you're ridiculous. Nothing you say makes sense. I thought you wanted to be an author."

"Yes. I want to be a novelist."

"Then you need to lie better. Use your creative muscle. Being a redhead in your early twenties doesn't disqualify you from being my flower girl."

"I'm an introvert."

"So am I, and I can't hire someone to replace me. You and I will be great together. We'll rehearse the steps and turns. Everything."

"There's a wedding rehearsal?"

"It sure is. A week from Thursday. It will be fun."

I slump against the pillows while she slides back into her seat.

"You'll be great. Trust me."

"Everybody will be there."

"Rightfully so."

Her expression softens while she leans forward and touches my hand.

"I need you, Liz. I really do. I'm as scared as you are."

"Why would you be scared?"

"Because I want everything to be perfect. That's why I want to create good memories, so I can have something to smile about. And it would be easier for me if my best friend was there with me."

She's genuine, and I am so grateful. I no longer feel lost, stranded, and alone in the world.

What am I saying?

I'm more than grateful. I'm ecstatic.

My eyes tear up.

I'm still her best friend.

"Okay. We'll do that," I say, holding her hands. "We'll do our best, and everything will be fine."

Her lips tremble with a smile, and emotions glisten in her eyes.

"Thank you," she says before we hug.