Chapter 13
I guess I'm glad my parents bang a lot...
Amelia
Iwake up with the worst hangover of my life.
My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, my head is pounding, and I can smell stale alcohol everywhere.
Stumbling down the hall to the bathroom, I pass by three wide-eyed younger siblings.
After ten minutes, I’ve washed my hair, scrubbed every inch of my body, and brushed my teeth three times in the shower.
“Minnie! Some of us who actually live here need to shower, too!” my brother Grant yells after pounding on the door.
Like all my siblings, I adore him, but he’s been a pain in my ass since the day he was born.
Before he came along almost twenty years ago, the world revolved around me.
I don’t actually hold it against him, but it’s fun to tease him about it.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, shutting off the water. I wrap a towel around myself and open the door. “Sorry, Your Highness.”
He rolls his eyes but then stares at me, clearly concerned. “You look like crap, Min.”
“Ah, thanks, bro. I love you, too.”
“Really, are you okay?”
“No. But here’s hoping.” I return to my room and dry off.
I keep extra clothes here, so I pull on a pair of shorts and a tank top.
When I left for college five years ago, my room was converted into an office, but there’s still a bed shoved into the corner where I sleep when I’m home.
Sometimes I feel bad about having my own space since everyone but Grant has to share with someone, but today, I’m thankful for the privacy.
My hair is a fucking disaster. Using my fingers, I get the biggest knots out, but give up after a few minutes and pull it into a messy bun.
I strip my bed of the airplane and alcohol-scented sheets before going to find some coffee.
Mom’s sitting at the kitchen table, a mug in her hands.
She doesn’t say anything as I walk by and throw the bedding into the washing machine.
I smirk to myself as I set it to fill with hot water, knowing Grant is in the shower upstairs.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound like my normal self.
She doesn’t buy it and simply stares at me as I take my first sip of coffee with white chocolate and peppermint syrup they keep in the pantry for me. After a minute of my mom staring at me, I can’t help but start to shift nervously.
“You’re not supposed to be home for another week,” she says.
“Were you planning on renting out my room or something?” I ask innocently.
“Amelia Grace Sinclair, what is going on?” I cringe and open my mouth, but she points her finger at me before I can say anything. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”
Fuck. I was absolutely going to lie to her.
“I needed a break. To get away for a while.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal. “I took an extra week off so I can enjoy being home and focus on Bean’s wedding.” Yeah, that probably still counts as a lie since I don’t plan on going back to New York.
And again, she doesn’t buy it.
“Mmmhmmm.” She gives me a mom-glare and looks like she wants to grill me for more information, but someone starts screeching upstairs, and she leaves to deal with one of her other kids.
There are benefits to being one of seven. Someone else is almost always sure to distract our parents in the middle of a scolding.
I swallow some ibuprofen and eat a piece of toast with my coffee. I really wish it was a chocolate croissant or cream cheese Danish from our place.
Shit, I can’t think of it as ‘our place’ anymore, though.
I hate everything about this.
A few minutes later, Bean walks in the back door and frowns at me. “Oh damn, you’re up. I was looking forward to dragging you out of bed.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m up.”
She eyeballs me hard. “You look like hell.”
“Everyone’s saying such nice things to me today.” I prop my chin in my hand and give her a dreamy look, batting my eyelashes.
Bean shakes her head, sending her light brown hair bouncing around her shoulders, and laughs at me. “Come on, let’s get your shit out of my car.” When we step outside, she asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Super. Absolutely fantastic,” I deadpan.
“Great. Want to come help me do some wedding stuff with Mom and Stephanie?” She pops open the trunk and pulls out one of my bags.
Reaching for another, I groan. “Less than I want to deal with my own current issues.”
“That’s valid.” She sighs and shrugs. “It’s stuff I can handle. I wasn’t planning on you being here for it anyway.”
“Tomorrow and beyond, put me to work, okay? Whatever I can do to make shit easier for you, even if it means dealing with the shrew and her clone.” I’m going to need distractions, and something tells me Bean’s going to need help.
“Beyond? Yes. Tomorrow?” She shakes her head. “We’re not doing wedding stuff tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s a Barbecue Bash tomorrow.”
“Oh my god, really?” I clap my hands together in excitement like a kid.
Our friend Haven’s family has been throwing monthly get-togethers in their backyard for twenty years.
They started off small, but now they’re huge, all-day events.
Sun, rain, snow: we’ve bashed our way through just about everything. But I haven’t been to one in too long.
“I hate why you came home early, but maybe getting to hang out with most of our people will help. And if not, there’s always shooting Grant with a water gun.”
After helping me bring everything upstairs, she leaves, and I nap in front of the TV, because between the hangover and jet lag, I can barely keep my eyes open.
A few hours later, Bean stomps into my room.
“I should have made you my maid of honor,” she whines, flinging herself onto my bed, fucking up the piles of laundry I just sorted. “Stephanie’s a nightmare. Why did I let Mom talk me into it?”
“Because you let that woman talk you into anything.”
“Ugh, I really do, don’t I? Unless you’re there to tell her off for me. But at least I stood my ground on the roses.”
“I’m proud of you for that, by the way.”
Bean gives me a rundown of the to-do list. Almost everything that has been given to Stephanie to do has either been done wrong or not at all.
At least I won’t be bored this week.