42. Paisley
“You were right.”Sienna, seated at a vanity with a gold-framed mirror, stares at me in the reflection. Her eyes track me as I close the door and make my way through the small room. A round pink velvet ottoman is nearby, so I snag it and drag it over to her.
“What was I right about?” I ask cautiously, while trying not to make it obvious I’m looking around for the cutting tool she used on the blunt edge bangs flopping unevenly on her forehead.
They look bad.
“Shane. He came here to talk to me after he woke up.”
“Did he smell like espresso martinis?”
“He smelled like a barn animal.”
“Delightful.”
A sad smile tugs at her mouth.
“He’s not over you, Pais.”
I sigh. I saw this coming, and I have a rebuttal. “He only thinks that, Sienna. He was thrown for a loop when I arrived with Klein. He didn’t expect to see me happy. To be honest, I didn’t expect to be happy. Klein was here to provide moral support, and make me look like less of a loser at my little sister’s wedding to my ex-boyfriend.” I shoot for a wry smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my ears. Baby steps.
My sister sniffs. “He wasn’t brought along for the purpose of making your ex jealous?”
“Not at all.” I take her hands. “You have to know that no matter how all this turns out today, none of this was my intent. Klein and I were barely friends when we boarded the plane in Phoenix a week ago. His job was to make people stop looking at me with pity. That’s it.”
“Nobody was looking at you with pity.”
“At your bachelorette party I overheard the bridesmaids basically say I was a loser.”
“No way,” Sienna draws out the ‘y’ sound.
“Yes way,” I confirm.
“Now people will be looking at me with pity.” Sienna stares into the mirror. “I cut bangs, Pais,” she whispers, features twisting into disbelief and horror. “And they’re not even cute.”
“Uh, no. They’re uneven and unfortunate.”
Tears spring from her eyes. “What am I going to do?”
“About the bangs?”
She begins to sob. “About everything.”
I wait for her sobs to subside, then ask, “How did you and Shane leave it this morning?”
“He said he still wants to marry me today. Can you believe that? Why would he want to marry me if he believes he’s not over you?”
Heat rises up in my limbs. That fucking bastard. Fuck him for putting my sister through this. Fuck him for wanting what he can’t have. For not wanting me until someone else did.
“I don’t know. Shane is,” I falter, grasping to find the correct way to word what I’m thinking. “He’s a lot like Dad, I think.”
Sienna winces. “That’s foul. But not untrue. And it’s not the first time that thought has crossed my mind.”
My laugh is empty. “It’s not great. It’s also not uncommon, you know? For people to seek out partners similar to their parents. Especially parents who’ve hurt them.”
“Klein is nothing like Dad,” Sienna points out. Her beautiful face is streaked with tears. Thank goodness the makeup artist hadn’t started on her yet, or she’d resemble a clown.
“True. But Shane is, and, well, you know how that story goes.”
Sienna wipes her face with the backs of her hands. “This is so messed up. It’s my wedding day. My wedding day. It was supposed to be perfect.”
“It still can be.” Locating tissues across the room, I pick them up and deliver them to her.
She plucks two from the box and looks at me gratefully. “I don’t think so. I’m—” She takes a deep breath and gathers herself, pulling strength from somewhere deep inside. “I don’t want to marry a man like Dad.”
“Sienna, I didn’t mean to dissuade you. Do whatever you want. Whatever you think will make you happy.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t believe Shane is that person.” Her words exit her mouth with hesitation. “He was great when we started dating, but after a while it felt false, like a wrong note played on an instrument.” Words trip from her mouth, faster now. “I felt stupid for dating him, Paisley. Because he was your ex. If I was going to be so audacious as to date him, I had to keep dating him.”
“Doubling down on a bad decision is never the right choice.”
Her hand flips into the air. “Now she tells me.”
Sticking my feet out, I cross my legs at the ankles. “So, the wedding isn’t happening?”
Sienna winds her engagement ring around her finger. “No.” Her voice is a mix of many emotions, but dominated by shock.
“It’s all going to be okay. Just keep that in mind.”
Sienna groans suddenly. “I don’t want to tell Dad.”
Tapping my nose, I say, “Not it.”
“What do you think Mom will say?”
“Who knows? She might not even notice. The hearts in her eyes probably block her vision.”
A smile attempts to find its way onto Sienna’s face. “This day is going to get worse before it gets better.”
“For you,” I point out. “For me, this day can only get better from here.”
“Thanks,” she deadpans.
“Look at it this way,” I sing, fighting my desire to finger brush her bangs over her forehead. “Untrained bangs are a vibe. “