Chapter 28
In any other circumstance, I would normally love the sun streaming in through the sheer lace curtains of my gorgeous Italian bedroom.
But today, every chirp of the birds outside brings a new wave of anxiety through my stomach like I’m on a rollercoaster drop.
Even if I did wake up next to Reid again this morning.
It’s Kate’s wedding day, and I blew up at her last night. At my entire family.
Reid sat next to me outside last night, an arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders as I cried, letting out the stress and disappointment and the anger and every emotion that I’ve been bottling up for years.
He rubbed soothing circles on my back and whispered in my ear repeatedly that it was going to be okay and that he was right there with me.
I eventually cried out all my tears and was so exhausted Reid had to half-carry me back inside to my room.
I grabbed his fingers as he started for his own room, asking him to stay with me. He didn’t hesitate to slide into the tiny twin-sized bed again and wrap an arm around me. His arm is still tightly around me this morning, and I really don’t want to leave the comfort of it.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say quietly.
“Yes, you can,” he says.
“I don’t want to do this.”
“I know you’re stressed, but I know you’d never forgive yourself if you bailed out of your sister’s wedding.”
“I doubt she even wants me there today.”
“I don’t think you’d be able to live with yourself if you didn’t ask her yourself.”
I let out a heavy sigh. He’s right. I know he is. So I finally fling the covers off my legs and get out of bed. “Wait,” he says, reaching a hand out to grab mine this time. I turn to look at him with an arched brow in silent question. “Kiss for good luck?”
I laugh, but lean down and press a kiss to his lip before I grab my bridesmaid dress and shoes and walk solemnly down the tiled floors toward the main suite Kate is staying in.
My garment bag is draped over my shoulder, my heels dangling from my other hand.
Each step I get closer to the room requires another deep breath from me.
The door creaks as I open it, which is fitting considering I feel like I’m about to walk into a house of horrors.
The speaker softly plays as Taylor Swift sings about getting married in paper rings.
A woman is curling Elise’s dark hair. Another woman is brushing eye shadow over mom’s eyes.
I keep looking around the room until my eyes land on both of my sisters standing together by the makeshift mimosa bar.
With a breath for courage, I walk toward them with a pit in my stomach. Jessica appears in front of me, hands on her hips.
“Bold of you to show up today,” she sneers.
“Not now, Jessica.” I step around her. “I’m not here for you.”
She scoffs behind me, but thankfully leaves me alone as I make my way to the twins.
“Hello,” I say nervously, fidgeting with the garment bag still draped over my shoulder.
Lydia drags her gaze from the bottle of champagne she’s holding to look up at me. A tight smile stretches across her lips when she sees me. Kate is still looking at me in disbelief, so I try to break the tension first.
“Happy wedding day,” I offer.
Her nostrils flare slightly as she draws in a breath. “You still came,” she says by way of greeting.
“Did you not want me to?”
“I—” she begins. Someone pops another champagne bottle behind us, causing her to jump. “Hang on.”
I watch as she turns to the mimosa bar and grabs the bottle from Lydia’s hands. She pours two glasses of champagne and drops in a teaspoon of orange juice. Then she turns to face me again, a glass in each hand and nods her head behind her to the covered balcony outside her room.
“Come with me. I think we should talk,” she says.
“Okay,” I mutter, first finding a place to hang my dress and deposit my shoes before following her out.
We take our seats in the little wicker chairs adorning her own room’s small balcony.
We’re both silent for a moment, staring straight ahead at the water and the sun shining down waiting for the other to speak.
Nerves are sparking through my body as I try to find my words or wait for hers. I’m scared she’ll tell me to leave. That she never wants to see me again. That I’ve ruined everything I worked so hard to make perfect for her.
I take a hefty sip of my champagne. When I lower the glass, I find Kate’s glass already half empty.
She sets it on the low coffee table between us with trembling fingers that I chalk up to wedding day jitters.
Because there’s no way she’d be afraid of talking to me.
Not when I ever—besides last night—get mad at her for anything.
“I’m so sorry, Jane,” she finally says.
I shake my head. “You . . . what?”
She twists in her chair, reaching out to grab my free hand in both of hers. When I drag my eyes from our hands up to her made-up face, I find tears glistening in her blue eyes. The same blue as mine.
“I’m sorry. For all of it. For telling you what to wear and how to look.
For never inviting you anywhere. For siding with Jessica.
For getting mad at you for finding love.
For never taking accountability for my actions and how they’ve hurt you.
For just assuming that you’ll always forgive me, even if I do stupid stuff.
” She lets out a heavy breath. “And I’m really sorry for buying the dress you wanted.
I heard you say you liked it at the shop.
And I should’ve asked your permission first. I just .
. . I don’t know. I wanted to be like you for once. ”
I gape at her. “What do you mean? You’ve always done everything exactly opposite of me. I thought you never wanted to be anything like me. You know, with my granny hobbies and matronly clothes.”
“I’m so sorry I said any of that. You do have granny hobbies, but that’s not a bad thing.”
I huff a laugh, despite the heaviness still in my chest. “Yeah, not when you get a handmade crocheted blanket for Christmas.”
“Or the crochet bag you made for my birthday. I still use that bag.”
“As you should. It’s a good bag.”
Her lips tip up into a smile, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.
She lets out a sigh, releases my hands, and deflates back into her chair.
“I don’t know, I just feel like mom and dad have always seen me as this delicate little flower that needs help and protecting and can’t make her own choices.
And I ended up leaning into that. If no one liked how I did things or planned things, then I’d just have them do it for me.
And then it becomes easier to live that way. ”
I blink at her. “You mean to tell me you don’t actually like having people do everything for you?”
She sputters a laugh. “It sounds so stupid when you say it like that, but yes. Kind of. I feel like no one ever approved of my engagement or my big plans for my wedding or how fast it all moved. The engagement party I told mom about didn’t pass her high expectations, so when she asked me to try again, I panicked and remembered you mentioning that venue downtown.
She seemed pleased. Then she asked about what kind of flowers to get for the couples shower.
I told her I was happy with lilies. She said they weren’t bridal enough.
I remembered how much you love pink roses, so I thought you’d be happy to see your favorite flower there, so . . .”
Kate shrugs. She’s avoiding my gaze, instead choosing to look at her fidgeting fingers.
“So when I had to pick out a dress and everyone kept handing me things that were short and low cut and, honestly not very bridal, I . . . I don’t know.
I got mad. It felt like no one was taking me seriously.
It felt like this was just a big party to everyone and not a marriage for me.
And I was happy to play that role for a while, but the wedding dress just made me snap.
And then I saw the dress you had looked at the week before and it looked so grown up and mature.
And I already knew that you liked it, so I figured you’d be happy that I bought something smart.
I should’ve known better. I should’ve used it as inspiration instead of buying it outright, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.
That’s not an excuse, I’m just explaining.
But know that I am truly, deeply sorry for hurting you with that. And everything else too.”
But the more she talks, the more things all click into place for me and the anger starts to dissipate. I’m not the only one who never felt like I did enough—mom made her feel like she wasn’t enough too.
“I feel like I’m always trying to keep up with you,” she says quietly.
“What do you mean? You have everything so perfectly figured out.”
“Yeah on the outside maybe. I have no clue what I’m doing. I hate my job. We can’t find an apartment in our price range, and I have two maxed out credit cards.”
“The wedding was expensive,” I mutter around my champagne glass.
“I maxed them out before we even got engaged.”
“Good God.”
“Don’t tell mom,” she says quickly.
“I don’t have any interest in seeing that look of rage on her face, so your secret is safe with me.”
Kate shudders. “Oh god, I don’t want to see it either.”
“Maybe don’t max out your next credit card then”
“Jane.”
“Sorry.” I let her admission swirl in my mind for a moment, then say, “I just don’t get why you’d be keeping up with me. I’m still single and you’re getting married. In Positano. You’re mom’s favorite.”
“You’re my cool big sister. I wanted to be everywhere you were and do what you did.”
Seeing things from a new perspective is weird.
Because as mad as I was at Kate last night, as frustrated as I’ve been with her this entire wedding-planning process, now all I see is that girl from the picture on my phone.
I see that teenager who makes me laugh and who wants to be around me.
I’m not sure when those feelings all shifted and our relationship became so complex, but it did.
And now I’m just regretting all that time that we played the roles we thought the other wanted instead of just talking it out and making it right.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you last night. And I’m sorry for whatever happened that made us drift and change. But I’m here now. And I’m going to be honest when you hurt my feelings so that we don’t bottle things up anymore.”
“Great, because I’m so sick of smiling and pretending like everything is great.”
“Me too.” I reach out a hand to take hers. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Lydia that I’m your favorite sister now.”
She hums a small laugh. “It’s not a competition, Jane.”
“To you maybe.” She laughs, and I think it might be the first time in months that I got to hear her laugh at all.
“I didn’t realize that you had all those pressures from mom. You could’ve just told me, you know.”
“You could’ve just told me you had a crush on Reid.” I just look at her, my lips pressed into a thin line, not sure what to say from here. She laughs, an authentic tinkling sound. “Don’t look so shocked.”
“You seemed so mad at me yesterday when we came home with the champagne.”
“Jane, I was mad at you because I had to hear it from Jessica. You’re my sister. Why wouldn’t you tell me you had a crush on him? I could’ve made Jason play wingman to get this ball rolling sooner!”
“You were telling me all summer that he doesn’t date and he’ll just break my heart.”
“Yeah, because I didn’t realize you had actual feelings for him. I thought you just thought he was hot.”
“Well, I did,” I mumble.
She grabs my hand again, but this time instead of tears, she’s smiling. And that pit that was in my stomach all morning, that fist of fear over disappointing her that’s been over my heart for years, it all loosens and I feel like I can breathe again.
“I’m happy for you. But don’t keep secrets like that from me again. Especially if Jessica knows. She trades secrets like currency.”
“Speaking of, can you tell Jessica to leave me alone? I’m getting really sick of her comments.”
“Don’t worry. I already told her to stop bothering you this morning.” She leans back in her seat like the conversation took a heavy weight off her shoulders. Honestly, it feels like it took one off mine. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing as much of her once the wedding is over.”
“Thank goodness for that.” I stare at her for a beat, debating if I really want to ask the next question, but since we’re not holding back ever again, I ask, “Why are you still friends with her? She’s awful.”
“I know.” Kate sighs. “I have no idea. I think I’m afraid of her at this point.” I huff a laugh, but Kate continues on. “She hasn’t always been that awful. Snarky comments here and there, but nothing as vindictive as that.”
“You didn’t defend me,” I finally say.
Kate looks at me again, regret across her pretty face. “I am so sorry, Jane. I should have. I really should have. And from now on I will. I promise.”
She holds out her hand, pinky out. I stare at it for a minute, flashing back to the memories of us interlocking pinkies to promise whatever favor or secret or vow to each other.
We haven’t done it in so long. She shakes her hand at me and snaps me out of my memories.
When I look up at her, a small smile touches her lips.
“Pinky promise,” she says. “The most honorable type of promise.”
“You know what happens if you break this,” I say, slowly closing the gap between our pinkies.
“I have to get whatever terrible haircut you tell me to as penance.”
“Exactly.”
She loops her finger with mine first, squeezing them tightly together. Then we lean in and kiss the backs of our thumbs, locking in the promise. No more secrets. No more ignoring each other when we need the other. No more bad blood.
I smile wide as I sit back and look at her. There she is. The sister I know and remember and love. “I’ve really missed this side of you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
“What do you say we hug it out and then we go and get you married?”
“I’d love that,” she says.
Then we both get to our feet and wrap our arms around each other and just like that it feels like we’re those teenage girls again.
Both carefree and happy and having the best time of our lives, still loving each other despite the bickering and the missed invitations and whatever else put that wedge between us over the years.
Now we’re just two sisters ready to hug it out and start fresh.