Chapter 27
S even days later, Christy’s back in town to visit me.
I was in tears on the phone while filling her in on the whole Charlie/Nico debacle, and she booked a flight without me even having to ask.
She’ll be staying through the art show next weekend, since she has plenty of unused vacation days.
She and Kyle never traveled anywhere—not unlike our mom and dad.
To say I’m relieved my sister’s here is the understatement of the year.
I’ve been a nervous wreck counting the seconds until I see Charlie at the art show.
That is, if he’s still even planning to come.
I have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s a thousand miles away, and we haven’t talked since he drove me home from Vanessa’s and hugged me outside the door of my apartment, while I tried not to cry.
I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell him that I finally made the decision I’ve been agonizing over for weeks: I’ll be showing his portrait at the gallery next Saturday.
It’s my grand gesture. My way of telling him that I believe in our love story.
That we are meant-to-be. That Charlie Sutton and I were tied together, somehow, before we even met.
And that our run-in at the elevator was destiny.
“What do you think?” My sister walks into the living room wearing a little black dress that barely covers her, um, assets. “Too short?” she asks, scrunching her nose.
I squint at her. “Is that mine?”
She sighs. “Well, we’re going out tonight, and I want to look good. Your clothes are sexier.”
I laugh. “They’re also made for a petite woman, which you are not. You look amazing, though.”
“You really think so?” She smooths the fabric over her stomach.
“I know so,” I insist.
But Christy doesn’t look satisfied.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. “When we went out for drinks the last time you were in town, you were so carefree and confident. You attracted guys like a magnet.”
She plops down next to me on the couch, pulling down the hem of my tiny dress. “I’ve put on another few pounds since then.”
My forehead creases. “I thought you said you were happy to gain some weight after you stopped marathon training.”
“Well, I was excited about the first five pounds, because I thought the curves looked good on me. But the second five pounds…” She shakes her head. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was in the best shape of my life when Kyle and I were together?—”
“Because of all those long runs you hated,” I remind her.
“I know. But when I was running, I could eat whatever I wanted without a care. That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore,” she goes on, frowning.
“Honestly, Christy…I used to worry about you when you ran that much. You were all skin and bones. I think you look incredible now.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Well, I don’t feel incredible. That’s why I wanted to borrow your dress. Because it’s stretchy, and all the clothes I brought with me are too tight. I think it’s partially because I’m bloated from my period, but still…I feel disgusting.”
“Oh, Christy,” I say, rubbing her knee. “I always feel disgusting when I’m on my period. Don’t worry, okay? We’re going back to my closet, and we’re going to find a dress that fits you perfectly.”
She leans back on the couch and heaves a sigh. “Okay. But can it be something at least a little sexy? Because?—”
My sister looks away from me, embarrassed.
“Because what?”
Her lip quivers. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m dumping all my issues on you tonight. I’m supposed to be here to support you, not the other way around.”
“Are you kidding? We’re sisters,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine. “We support each other.”
And I have to say, with all the times I’ve leaned on Christy, it feels great to be the supportive sister for once.
“True,” she says with a hint of a smile.
“Great,” I confirm with a nod. “So, lay it on me.”
“Well…we’re hanging out with Sam and Vanessa tonight, and I’ve never met them, so I looked them up on Facebook. They’re both gorgeous ,” Christy continues with a pout. “And so unique-looking. Then there’s you—my bombshell big sister—and I just feel so plain, in comparison.”
My heart aches knowing Christy still feels as insecure about her looks as she did when we were growing up. I wish she could see what I see. So, I grab her hand and lead her to the mirror in my foyer.
“You are a classic beauty, Christy Andersen,” I begin. “And I’m not only saying that as your sister. I’m speaking as an artist who did your portrait, so consider this my professional opinion.”
She half-smiles at my reflection.
“Your features are very symmetrical, for one thing,” I go on, “and we all know that symmetry is aesthetically pleasing. I loved painting your almond-shaped eyes, and your pert little nose—and don’t get me started on this cupid’s bow.”
I expect her to laugh, but her shoulders slump. “All I see are small eyes, a small nose, and thin lips. Boring, boring, boring.”
I put my hands on my waist. “Then you need to get your vision checked. There is nothing boring about you, Christy. Do you know how many women out there—including your own sister—wish they had auburn hair like yours? Not to mention that smattering of freckles on your peachy skin?” Smiling, I pinch her cheek.
Finally, she giggles. “The freckles are kinda cute.”
“They’re beautiful. You are beautiful, Christy. Now, let’s go get glammed up and have some fun.”
One hour, and one movie-worthy makeover montage later, Christy and I are walking into the bar to meet Vanessa and Sam.
From the moment we step inside, my sister is already turning heads.
She’s wearing a strappy red dress I bought months ago, but forgot to have hemmed.
It fits her perfectly, and she looks hot as fire in matching red lipstick and the bold cat eye I gave her with my liquid liner.
Vanessa and Sam are at a high-top table with a pitcher of margaritas when we walk in.
“You must be Christy,” Vanessa says with her beaming smile as she wraps her arms around my sister.
Sam takes her turn hugging Christy, then squeals. “I was not expecting Jenna Andersen’s little sister to be a ginger! What a pleasant surprise!”
We all look at her, confused.
“My best friend growing up had the most beautiful red hair,” Sam explains.
“She was the sweetest, funniest person I’d ever met.
But her family moved abroad when we were in sixth grade, and we lost touch.
I was devastated for all of middle school.
To this day, whenever I see a redhead, my heart skips a beat.
You’re so rare and magical. Like unicorns. ”
“Why, thank you,” Christy says as she flips her long, wavy hair. The smile on her face is unmistakable, and I’m grateful to Sam for boosting my sister’s confidence.
“I hope you like margaritas,” Vanessa says as we all sit at the table. “Because tonight…we’re celebrating.”
“What’s the occasion?” I ask as she pours drinks for me and Christy.
“My assistant director came back from maternity leave this week, and she’s taken so much work off my plate,” she says with a huge grin. “I finally feel like I can breathe. ”
“Cheers to that,” Sam toasts as we all clink glasses.
But Vanessa’s announcement makes me think of Charlie and his work woes, and even as I’m smiling for my friend, my heart sinks. I try my best to shake off the feeling, so no one notices.
“So, what’s your story?” Sam asks, turning to my sister.
Christy takes a sip of her margarita. “Well…I’m a literary agent, and I love my job.”
Vanessa’s eyes light up. “What kind of books do you rep?”
“Book club fiction is my jam,” my sister answers, eager to talk about her work. “I love the commercial appeal of the stories, mixed with the literary writing style.”
“Do you represent any romance writers? That’s my favorite genre,” Vanessa says with the rosy glow of a woman in love.
Christy shakes her head. “I only started feeling drawn to romance novels again recently. I just broke up with my boyfriend of eight years, and he was the polar opposite of romantic, so love stories were a little triggering for me.”
Sam nods as she sets down her glass after taking a sip. “Well, good for you for calling it quits. Life’s too short to settle for anything that doesn’t knock your socks off, that’s what I say.”
Ugh. Now we’re talking about not settling? My heart plummets even further.
My sister takes another sip of her margarita before she responds. “Kyle definitely didn’t knock my socks off. He wouldn’t even have sex with me if it wasn’t a Friday night between the hours of nine and eleven-thirty.”
Sam is mid-gulp again, and chokes on her drink. “You can’t be serious,” she says after clearing her throat. “What happened at midnight? Did his dick turn into a pumpkin?”
Christy laughs, then rolls her eyes. “Kyle had a very rigid sleep schedule. He had to get eight hours a night, no matter what. And Saturday was the only morning he could sleep in. But he insisted on being up at eight for his morning run.”
Sam grimaces. “I bet he was terrible in bed. No one that uptight could possibly be a good lay.”
Vanessa and I exchange the type of amused grin that Sam usually elicits with her unfiltered comments, but my sister just shrugs, unfazed. “Well, I don’t have anyone to compare him to. But I guess I did do all the work. He would always just lie there.”
Sam brings her palm to her forehead. “You poor, sweet, girl. Do you need me to help you find a man? I’ve become incredibly skilled at detecting bad lovers before they make it to my bed. It’s my superpower. I guess it comes with experience,” she goes on with a proud grin.
Christy laughs. “Tonight is girls’ night, and I want to get to know you and Vanessa, so no, thank you. But…maybe after the holidays?”
I tilt my head. “What’s happening after the holidays? Are you coming back to visit?”
Christy beams. “Not to visit…to live.”
My jaw drops. “Oh my gosh! Really? You’re moving here?”