Ava
My sister, Camille, doesn’t do anything halfway, including get married.
She’s one of those girls I’d love to hate if she weren’t my beloved sister.
Three years behind me in high school, she was class president, captain of the cheerleading squad, valedictorian and homecoming queen.
I’m sure the teachers who had me first wondered how the same genes could’ve produced two such different sisters.
Why do you think I moved so far from home to go to college and stayed there afterward?
At least in San Diego, no one ever compared me to my rock star little sister.
A few weeks ago, she graduated from Yale Law School, at the top of her class, of course, and made Law Review, had offers from every big firm in the country and sported a three-carat diamond on her finger from the son of the New York governor.
Like I said, she doesn’t do anything halfway.
So here I am at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City, standing beside my sister as she marries Robert James Tilden III in a lavish ceremony.
Did I mention she’s also freaking gorgeous?
Well, she is, and never more so than today.
She’s glowing with happiness and excitement and unfettered joy that serves as a bitter reminder of everything I’ve lost.
Pass the champagne.
If ever there was a time to get rip-roaring drunk, this is it.
Rob arranged for hotel rooms for every member of the wedding party, so no one has to drive or even function after the reception.
I plan to take full advantage of my new brother-in-law’s generosity up to and including room service breakfast.
Camille grasps my arm as we make our way from the rooftop where the happy couple exchanged vows to the ballroom where the reception will be held. “Help me pee,” she whispers.
I follow her to the restroom, where an attendant greets us and congratulates the bride.
“Thank you so much,” Camille says with a gracious smile for the woman.
“Use the handicapped stall,” the attendant says. “There’s more room.”
“Good call,” I say as we enter the roomy stall where Camille teaches me how to bustle her dress. I get it pinned up as best I can and then hold it out of harm’s way while she hovers over the toilet to take care of business.
“This wasn’t in my maid-of-honor job description.”
She laughs. “Sorry, but this is what sisters are for. And I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” And I mean that sincerely. “I love seeing you so happy.”
“I am happy, but I’ll be even happier tomorrow. I’m so ready for a vacation after planning a wedding during the last year of law school. If that doesn’t kill me, nothing will. Two weeks of sand, sun, sex and booze. Bring it on.”
My heart aches with envy, making me feel small and petty.
What I wouldn’t give for two weeks in the tropics with John.
What I wouldn’t give to simply know he’s alive.
I shake off those thoughts. This isn’t the time to wallow in the past. Today is about Camille and Rob, and I’m determined to keep my focus on her.
She stands and hurls herself into my arms. “I love you so much, Ava. I’m so glad you’re back home where you belong.”
Blinking back tears, I return her embrace. “Love you, too.” It’s good to be home. Whether I’m back where I belong is questionable. I have no idea anymore where I belong, but I’m going to figure that out. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with you today.” That much is certainly true.
After she washes her hands at the sink inside the stall, she hooks her arm through mine to lead me out of the restroom as the attendant looks on with amusement. “Let’s get this party started.”
We line up outside the ballroom, and I’m paired with the best man, Rob’s brother, Eric.
My sister has married into a rather fantastic gene pool.
Not only are the Tildens wealthy and successful, they’re incredibly good-looking, too.
Rob is a triplet, having shared the womb with Eric and their sister Amelia, whom they call Amy.
They make a striking trio—Rob and Amy resemble their father, with dark hair and eyes, while Eric favors their blonde, hazel-eyed mother.
Despite their different coloring, there’s a definite resemblance among the three of them as well as their younger sister, Julianne, a blonde spitfire who’s kept us laughing all weekend.
I instantly love the Tildens and can see why my sister is gone over Rob, who dotes on her to the point of nausea for the rest of us. I’ll give them a pass since it’s their wedding weekend, but the words get a room have frequently come to mind during the festivities.
“For Christ’s sake,” Eric mutters while we wait to be introduced. “Save it for the honeymoon.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Rob and Camille engaged in yet another passionate lip-lock and laugh at the look of disgust on Eric’s handsome face. “They can’t help themselves.”
“I need a drink. The wedding party is allowed to drink, right?”
“God, I hope so.”
“You’re up,” the wedding coordinator, a peppy woman named Mimi, says after Julianne and Rob’s cousin Nate are introduced.
“Ready?” Eric asks, extending his arm to me.
I tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Ready.”
“Please join me in welcoming our best man, the brother of the groom, Eric Tilden, and our maid of honor, the sister of the bride, Ava Lucas.” The DJ draws out every syllable of my name, making me Avaaaaaa Luuuuucasssss.
We walk in to thunderous applause from the nearly five hundred guests in the ballroom. I’ll admit to being intimidated by the crowd and the noise, both of which have me hanging on to Eric a little more tightly.
As if he can feel my tension, Eric covers my hand on his arm with his free hand, and the gesture comforts me.
We stand on the side of the huge dance floor with the rest of the wedding party.
“And now, please welcome our bride and groom, Rob and Camille Tilden!”
The applause is deafening as the happy couple makes their way into the room, stopping for hugs and kisses from friends and family.
They’ve been deliriously happy for two years now, ever since they met at a fundraiser for Rob’s dad when Camille was finishing her first year of law school.
Rob managed his father’s campaign and runs his New York City office.
“Can we drink yet?” Eric speaks close to my ear so only I will hear him.
“Counting the minutes.” I glance up at him and realize he’s focused on me, not the bride and groom.
The subtle, rich scent of his cologne surrounds me, making me want to lean in closer to him.
This is, I realize in a moment of despair, the closest I’ve been to any man since the day John kissed me goodbye and disappeared from my life.
I shiver even though the room isn’t cold. If anything, it’s overly warm.
“Are you okay?” Eric asks.
I nod, but my heart aches. What I wouldn’t give to have the man I love with me today, to celebrate my sister’s marriage, to meet my family, to dance the night away. Even in the midst of so much happiness and joy, grief overwhelms me.
“It’s kind of disgusting, isn’t it?” Eric asks as he twirls me around on the dance floor after the wedding party is invited to join the bride and groom as they dance to “The Best Is Yet to Come” by Frank Sinatra.
“What is?”
“How perfect they are.” He points his chin toward Rob and Camille, who are so caught up in each other, the hundreds of other people in the room might not exist for all they care.
“It’s not disgusting. They’re perfect for each other.”
He pulls back ever so slightly to look down at me with an impish twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t think it’s the tiniest bit disgusting that any two people can be that gorgeous and that successful?”
I’ll never admit to having had a few of those thoughts myself. “No, of course not. She’s my sister. I’m very proud of her—and happy for her.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. If you say so.”
Why is he trying to bait me? “I say so.”
“You don’t think it’s the tiniest bit unfair that they got it all—looks, smarts, true love, great jobs and a fab apartment? How much you want to bet they’re going to have ugly kids?”
It’s such an outrageous statement that I can’t contain the gurgle of nervous laughter that erupts from my chest.
“Ah-ha! I knew it! You totally think their kids will be ugly.”
“I do not! Don’t say that. He’s your brother. You’re supposed to love him.”
“I do love him, but sometimes I want to punch his lights out. Everything comes so easily to him. He’s never had to really work for anything in his life.”
“And you have?”
“I’ve worked hard for everything I have. Still do.”
“What do you do?”
“I spend years researching a single company for the fund I work for, only to be shot down when I bring it to the acquisitions team. Then I have to find another company, spend years working on that proposal and hope it doesn’t get shot down, too. I’m one-for-four over three years.”
“That sounds rather…”
“Depressing?”
“Is it?”
“It can be. It’s a major bummer to invest all that time and effort only to be shot down at committee.” He leans in a little closer, again closer than any man has been to me since John left. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Those companies I spend all that time researching?”
I nod, intrigued by his secret.
“I’ve invested personally in every one of them, and they’ve yielded spectacular results.”
“Then the time wasn’t wasted.”
“Not at all.” He gazes down at me, seeming to take a visual inventory of my features in a way that reminds me of John doing the same thing the night we met—and again on the day he walked out of my life.
The memory hits me like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“You’re very pretty, but of course you know that. ”
The most beautiful girl I ever met. John’s husky, sexy voice pops into my head, and I’m transported right back to the bedroom we painted a light gray, the bed we chose together, the sheets tangled around our bodies as he made fierce love to me, whispering sweet words I’ve never forgotten.