Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
SIERRA
It takes a long shower and a glass of wine while getting ready, but I finally feel like myself again.
The grimy feeling from my visit with my mother has been washed away.
My long blond hair is curled into the loose beachy waves I prefer.
My makeup is simple: minimal eyeliner, some mascara, and red lips.
The red lipstick is courtesy of Petra, who handed it to me at the airport this morning, assuring me that a bold red is just what I need to feel confident about my new life. Looking at myself in the mirror, I think that maybe she was right.
Peter doesn’t know what he’s missing, I tell myself—but my throat tightens and my eyes water as I think back to seeing Jane’s reflection in his hotel room.
Did he go running to her because I wasn’t good enough, or was there something so tempting about her that he strayed, even though he didn’t want to?
I grab my clutch and head for the door to my hotel room so I can’t dwell on losing Peter. I spent too damn long on my makeup to ruin it with more tears.
Maybe Petra’s right about a rebound this weekend.
That guy I saw in the lobby this afternoon was so hot I almost couldn’t look at him.
Those chiseled cheekbones, the strong jaw covered in a few days of stubble, the brown hair shot through with strands of auburn, those piercing eyes so dark they were almost black. I’m flushed just thinking about him.
Obviously, it’s someone Jackson and Nate know.
He looked slightly familiar, but even though I’ve been thinking about him since I got up to my room, I still can’t figure out how I know him.
Earlier in the lobby, I couldn’t get away fast enough because, after traveling and being at my mom’s, I was a frumpy, smelly mess—in no state to meet someone that hot.
Maybe I’ll bump into him tonight, and hopefully he won’t recognize me as the disheveled girl he saw earlier.
I’m in the elevator when Petra’s text comes in.
Petra
You’re more than fashionably late.
Sierra
I know. I’m heading down now. Where are you?
Petra
With Jackson at a table by the fireplace.
Sierra
Be there in a sec.
The elevators are tucked into a mirrored vestibule off the lobby, so when the doors open and I step out, I’m greeted by about twenty visions of myself.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel confident.
The black lace dress I’m wearing has a plunging neckline and hugs every curve but also hits my knee, so it feels sexy but sophisticated.
The three pieces of black ribbon that circle the waist make me look like I have more of an hourglass figure than I really do.
Jackson and Petra are great friends, but sometimes going out with them, I feel like the awkward sidekick to two supermodels.
It was better before Lauren had her babies, because then there were four of us.
And Lauren is as normal as I am in that she’s never graced a billboard or a magazine cover.
But now she mostly stays home with her girls, and I’m always with Petra.
I weave through the crowd and wonder how I could be at my best friend’s wedding and still know almost no one here, then find Jackson and Petra standing at a cocktail table near the fireplace, just where Petra said they’d be.
When I approach, Jackson puts both her hands on my shoulders and holds me at a distance. “Wow, Sierra, you look gorgeous tonight.”
“Thanks,” I say as she pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any earlier. My freaking mom.” I sigh. “Put me to work tomorrow . . . anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jackson says. “Tomorrow we relax. We’ll get massages and mani-pedis at the spa, and then we have the rehearsal.”
“The spa is already open?” Petra asks.
“Just for us. Gotta test it out and make sure everything’s up to snuff before real guests start booking appointments.
And Lauren will be here in time to join us.
She and Josh are taking the same early flight tomorrow as you girls did today.
And my mom, but that’s it. Oh, and there will be champagne, of course.
” Jackson’s green eyes gleam against her gold eyeshadow, which is subtle but matches her dress.
With her wavy brown hair falling halfway down her back, and her dramatic pouty lips, she looks amazing.
I tell her as much and she rolls her eyes. “You can’t even imagine how not glamorous my life is right now. I’m up to my eyeballs in meetings, and planning, and business negotiations, and decorating.”
“Well, it paid off,” I tell her. “Everything about this hotel is perfection. I think you have a little bit of your mom’s interior design blood in you, after all.”
“It’s true,” Petra says. “You have amazing taste. I can’t believe you did all this! And with Nate still racing for part of it.” Petra shakes her head. Those months at the beginning of this project where Nate was still in Europe racing and Jackson was here managing the project were tough on her.
“I swear I’ve spent the last few months in a hard hat and steel toe boots,” she says with a small laugh, “hoping this place turns out as beautifully as Nate and I envisioned. It’s nice to get dressed up and feel pretty for a change.”
“We are gorgeous,” Petra purrs. “Let’s get a photo before we mess up our lipstick with drinks.” She props her phone up on the table and sets the timer and somehow we manage to take a great photo, which she sends to me immediately. “Post this, so Peter sees it and knows what he’s missing.”
“Oh my God, Sierra,” Jackson says. “How are you holding up? I’m so sorry, I should have asked sooner. You just looked so amazing when you walked in, like there was no way you were pining away over him.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, glancing away. I’m not lying, I will be. “Eventually.” It’s hard to admit that I’m more upset about not seeing his betrayal sooner than I am about never seeing him again.
“I told her she should just find someone this weekend and have some rebound sex,” Petra says, her throaty voice booming loud enough that I feel like people are looking at us.
“Seriously, Petra, could you not announce this to the whole room?” I say under my breath.
“I fully support that plan. Several of Nate’s college friends are still single.” Jackson wiggles her eyebrows.
“We’ll see. I’m still trying to forget that Peter could have been so perfect.”
“You can’t love people for who they could be, you have to love them for who they are,” Petra says, her eyes distant in a way that makes me wonder who she’s thinking about.
“You read that somewhere?” I give her a wink to let her know I’m at least partially kidding. According to Petra, she’s never been in love—but sometimes I wonder.
“I love you guys with all my heart. There’s no room for anyone else,” Petra insists. “Hey,” she says to me, “weren’t you going to ask Jackson something?”
The only reason I don’t kick her is because I’m an adult. Or trying to be one, anyway. I thought by thirty I’d have this shit all figured out, instead I’m asking my friends if I can crash at their place.
“So, Petra mentioned that you don’t have renters at your condo anymore. Do you have new renters moving in?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
“Well, Peter gave me ten days to get my stuff packed and move out.” I bite my lower lip because I can feel it trembling and I will not cry. Not tonight.
“Oh, sweetie,” Jackson says, putting her arm around my shoulders and pulling me to her side. “That asshole. Stay at my place. For as long as you want.”
“I really don’t want to intrude.”
“We probably won’t rent it until after ski season because we’re hoping to slip away at some point in the early spring for a long weekend in Park City. Honestly, stay as long as you’d like.” Jackson gives my left shoulder a squeeze and rests her head on my right one.
“Thank you.” I’m beyond relieved to at least have some time to find a new place. Petra’s great, but with the string of men who parade through her bedroom, couch surfing at her place would have been awkward.
“Oh, shit,” Jackson says, her head popping up off my shoulder.
“What?” Petra and I ask at the same time.
“Shit,” Jackson repeats, scrunching her eyebrows together. We just stare at her, waiting for her revelation. “I forgot that I already told Beau he can stay there for a few weeks.”
“Beau is going to be in Park City?” I ask.
My stomach is flipping over in a way that’s hard to ignore.
I’ve never told Jackson about the last time I saw her little brother—first because I didn’t want her to think less of him, then because by the time I’d finally worked up the nerve to say something, it felt like I’d already kept it from her for too long.
“Yeah, I guess they’re training for the X Games before heading to Aspen,” she says. “I’m not sure how long he’ll be there. He’s supposed to text me the dates.”
“Okay, no worries,” I tell her. “Petra already offered up her couch, which will be fine. It’s only until I find a new place anyway. How long can that take?”
“During ski season?” Jackson rolls her eyes. “Could take months.”
She’s right. People who aren’t living in their condos rent them out on a weekly basis to out-of-town skiers unless, like Nate and Jackson, they don’t need the money.
I glance at Petra, who shrugs. “You’re welcome to my couch as long as you need it.”
“No,” Jackson says, “that’s ridiculous. Why would you sleep on Petra’s couch when I have two bedrooms in my place? You and Beau can easily stay there at the same time. And he’s not even going to be there for that long.”