Chapter 2 #3
“That’s how you live. Not me.” And the main reason why Wren had refused to consider getting an apartment with her sister when she’d moved back after college, even with Lark flashing the Puss-in-Boots eyes at her.
Mom and Dad had insisted Wren was more than welcome to live at home, sharing a room with Lark once again. She’d nixed that idea in record time because after four years of living with like-minded, tidy roommates at college, she refused to return to the chaos that Lark considered “housekeeping.”
“Before we do another tasting, stand up. We need to work on your posture.”
Wren frowned but rose. “Why?”
“Because you stand like you’re apologizing for existing.”
Wren blinked. “I do not.”
“You do.” Lark placed a firm hand in the middle of Wren’s back. “Shoulders back. Chin up. Confidence.”
“I’m confident,” Wren mumbled, though she certainly didn’t sell that lie with her tone.
And Lark didn’t even pretend to believe her. She burst out in a loud laugh. “Your standard pose is ‘I’d like to disappear into the wallpaper.’”
“While you flail around like a whirling dervish, screaming ‘look at me!’”
Lark nodded. “Exactly. Which is why we’re going over this. Because you need more energy. You need to be bigger.”
“I don’t do bigger.”
“You do this weekend,” Lark countered.
Wren groaned.
“Okay, okay,” Lark relented. Probably because Wren was this close to nixing the whole idea. “You don’t have to be exactly like me, but you’re definitely going to have to be chattier, more outgoing, and a little flirty.”
Wren scowled. “I definitely don’t do flirty.”
Lark looked like she wanted to push the envelope, but she yielded again. “Fine. No flirting. Unless it comes naturally.”
Wren tilted her head, letting her expression tell Lark just how stupid that comment was. She’d meant for her response to land as a joke, but Lark knew her too well, understood too clearly why Wren was closed off and quiet, why flirting never came naturally.
Unfortunately, now her sister just looked sad, which made Wren feel bad. Because, while they talked about every single thing under the sun, there was one small chapter in their past they never discussed.
Which was surprising, considering that single night had reshaped both of their personalities, creating the women they were today.
They’d both awakened the morning after the worst night of their lives, different people.
Wren had withdrawn into herself, while Lark had grown, just as she’d said, bigger.
Louder, more brash, more in your face. Her sister was always ready to take on the world, while Wren preferred to hide in a quiet corner of it.
“You ready to hear about the third bottle?” Lark asked.
Wren nodded, taking the escape Lark provided.
They spent the next two hours sipping and discussing the wine, as Wren took more notes. She tried to pay close attention to Lark’s style as she described the wines, the vineyard, making mental notes of the phrases, lines, and silly jokes her sister shared, even mimicking them aloud.
Then, they packed her clothes and discussed her hairstyle.
“Don’t forget to pin your hair up in a ponytail,” Lark said. “I never wear my hair down.”
To be honest, that was probably the easiest—and only—way to tell her and her twin apart.
Wren always wore her hair down in loose waves over her shoulders, while Lark was queen of the ponytail.
Then, Lark loaned Wren some of her makeup, because her sister would never be caught dead leaving the house without mascara, eyeliner, and shiny lip gloss, while Wren’s cosmetics bag contained nothing more than dental floss and Chapstick.
By the end of the evening, Wren’s head was spinning—from the wine and the information. The more she learned, the more impossible this was starting to feel.
Wren leaned against the couch, throwing her head back. “I really don’t think I can pull this off.”
“You’re doing great,” Lark insisted.
Wren wasn’t so sure. But as she looked at her sister—hopeful, determined, trusting—she knew one thing for certain. There was no backing out now.
Somehow, she was going to have to shed her quiet, overlooked librarian persona and spend the weekend becoming Lark.
Who was bold and bright. Who lived out loud.
“In some ways, it’s better that you’re going with Grayson instead of Maverick. He and I don’t spend a lot of time with each other,” Lark added.
“Because you annoy him,” Wren interjected.
Lark ignored her. “All I’m saying is, he doesn’t know me as well as Mav or Nora or Remi. It would be harder for you to fool one of them. And you’d never fool Jace at all.”
Jace was the youngest of the Storm brothers, and best buddies with Lark’s boyfriend, Tommy Reynolds. As such, Jace had spent a lot more time around Lark, socially as well as at work.
A couple years ago, Lark worked as a cashier in the Reynolds family’s hardware store, which was where she’d caught Tommy’s eye and the two started dating.
If Tommy had his way, Lark would still be working there.
Unlike at her other jobs, Lark hadn’t been fired from the hardware store.
Instead, she’d quit working there when a better position—more pay and more hours—opened at the grocery store.
Lark and Tommy had dated off and on for just over two years.
While Wren liked Tommy just fine, she didn’t think he was the right guy for her sister.
Tommy, four years older, was a serious type of guy.
And four years wasn’t a big age gap at all, but for some reason, it felt huge when the couple was Tommy and Lark.
If he thought Lark would say yes, Tommy would probably propose to her sister tomorrow and schedule the wedding for next week.
The man was soooo ready to settle down and start a family.
However, Lark had been very upfront with Tommy, claiming she didn’t even want to think about getting engaged until she was at least twenty-five.
Her sister was determined to sow all the wild oats while she was young, enjoying girls’ nights out, traveling, going to concerts and shows.