Chapter 27 #2
I take deep, centering breaths and force myself to look at my sister.
Immediately, I begin to bawl my eyes out—huge, dramatic crocodile tears.
“You look so beautiful,” I sob. “I can’t believe it.
You’re so perfect and amazing. Look at you.
” She’s so radiantly gorgeous I can barely breathe.
Her hair in soft waves framing her face just right, makeup impeccable.
Her dress makes her look like the Goddess of all the Sparkly Princesses.
May just grins at me.
“Annie,” my mom says in Cantonese, “stop making a scene.” She says this in a bright tone, with a smile, so no one else realizes she’s shitting on me.
May and I ignore her. “Watch your makeup,” May tells me.
“This shit isn’t going anywhere,” I assure her, dabbing at my face. “It’s like permanent marker has been shellacked onto my face, but it still manages to look naturally effortless. This bitch right here is a queen. Kuh-ween.” I point to one of the makeup artists, Vanessa, who smirks.
I squint at her. “Do you do weddings in New York City? Or maybe Durham? North Carolina? Never mind.”
May shrieks with laughter, and I think it’s my favorite sound in the universe.
“Shush,” I tell her anyway, feeling my cheeks get hot.
Izzy is suddenly standing next to me. “No,” she says.
“Yes,” May tells her.
“No,” I say firmly. “Stop looking at me like that, Iz,” then, “Get away from me, Iz,” when her wide eyes are inches from my face.
She punches me in the arm.
“Ow.”
“Shut up,” Izzy laughs. “Really?” she asks May.
“Really,” May replies.
“No,” Izzy repeats.
“Yep,” says May.
“No,” I insist.
“This one just couldn’t get anything right,” Elodie the horrible one says out of nowhere, indicating to Rosalia, the other makeup artist. “I had to do it myself.”
I don’t even blink. “Yeah, well, maybe the problem’s not the artist. Maybe your face just rejects beauty.”
May coughs hard to cover a laugh.
Izzy doesn’t bother and cackles like a witch. “Rosalia could make a potato look luminous. But she’s not a magician,” she adds on for good measure.
Rosalia tries to hide her grin.
“Excuse you?” Elodie says to us.
“You’re excused.” I smile. “You’re free to take a walk. I hear nature is healing. Maybe some fresh air will fix your face.”
Elodie mutters something under her breath that sounds like “fucking bitches,” but she grabs her bag and strides out of the room.
Izzy waves.
I whirl towards May. “What the hell?”
May sighs. “I know. She’s Tom’s best friend. I had to include her. She’s not usually this bad.”
“Want me to slice up her dress?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Break one of her heels?” Izzy offers.
“Nuh uh.”
“Cut off a piece of her hair?” I try.
“I’m good.”
“Because we will,” I assure her.
“I know you will—that’s why I’m good.” May smirks. “No problems, remember?”
“But she’s the prob—”
“Annie.”
“Fine.”
“Your tea ceremony is in an hour,” Michelle, one of the bridesmaids, announces. “Is everyone ready?”
I glance around the room. “No! We are not ready.” I start moving around the room and start tidying, cleaning, hiding things, putting things away. “The photographer is coming to take pictures of all of us before that. We've gotta make it look nice.”
May stands.
“No,” Izzy reprimands. “We’ll clean. You sit and look beautiful.”
May sits, and the rest of us get to work.
Half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door. We all squeal. Apparently, I squeal now.
The boys walk in, and I immediately look for—
Wow.
Wow.
Is the world tilting on its axis?
Why is my mouth so dry?
Are those angels singing?
I’m still gaping like a fish when Izzy brushes past, throwing a smirk back at me.
“Hey, Nico,” she purrs. “You clean up real ni—ouch.”
Izzy inexplicably flies sideways several feet.
“Was that an actual hiss?” She is cracking the fuck up with her hands on her knees, but I do not know what is so funny. “Did you just hiss at me?”
“Mine,” I hiss at her, before walking towards My Worst Fuckin’ Nightmare but Wettest Fuckin’ Dream Wearing the Fuck Out of a Tux. And the smile that he’s shining down on me is filled with adoration, devotion, a little bit of shock, and a whole lotta… love.
“Hey, Ali,” he grins.
“Hi, Chef,” I say, and I pull him down to my mouth by the lapels of his hot-as-fuck tux.
We are getting very reacquainted with each other’s tongues when I hear my dad’s voice call my name in a sharp rebuke.
We ignore him, but we pull away a fraction, our noses and foreheads still touching.
“It’s not fair,” I tell Nico, stomping my foot a little. “It’s uneven. You can’t just look like this. I don’t look as good as you do in formalwear.”
The tux is cut perfectly, accentuating the width of his shoulders and the strength in his arms and his thighs. His face is freshly shaved, revealing the line of his jaw, and his hair is styled to perfection. Is that pomade?
“Nah,” he says. “You look better. Fuckin’ beautiful, honey.
” He traces a thumb along my cheek, runs a hand through my hair.
Twirls me around by the hand once to check out my ass, presumably.
There he goes, making me feel things like precious and enchanting again.
He leans in close to my ear. “But I much prefer you wearing nothing but me.”
Are my legs broken? Do I need to change my underwear?
“Where’s Tom?” May calls from somewhere behind us.
Nico’s smile is tight when he looks back at May. “He said he’d meet us here. Had to check something on the roof for the ceremony.”
I whip my head back to her face just in time to see a crack in her perfect, unflappable expression.
She bites her lip.
“I’ll go get him,” I declare.
“I’m going with her,” Nico loftily proclaims.
“No.” I put a hand up in the halt position. “I have to go to my room to get my clutch, too—”
Nico raises his eyebrows.
“Definitely no. Then we will all be very late for photos.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” he whispers.
“It’s not. It’s a fact.”
“I should inform you,” he says, deadly serious now, “that I am extremely competitive. Mathletes, remember? Science Olympiad? Speed, time—”
I bolt. “Stay away from me, nerd!”
His laughter echoes behind me.
I start on the roof patio where the ceremony’s being held, but I don’t find him. What I do find is… well, magic.
The whole rooftop has been transformed into a kind of floral dreamscape.
The arch is massive, built entirely of blush and cream flowers, vines twisting together.
There are tiny white flowers woven into the backs of the chairs.
Gauzy drapes float in the breeze, soft and translucent and impossibly elegant.
Everything is delicate and romantic and expensive in a subtle, effortless way. I definitely don’t take notes.
a rooftop in bloom—
so soft it nearly shatters.
love tucked
into every petal,
every ribbon of wind.
an altar at the edge of sky.
forever
doesn’t feel so far.
Nice, Annie, I compliment myself.
I clock the string quartet tuning near the glass railing, their instruments gleaming like jewels in the sun. The wedding planner is crouched next to them.
“Looks perfect,” I call out, flashing her a thumbs-up. “Did you see Tom?”
She shakes her head, distracted.
Of course not. Probably snuck off to the bar for some overpriced scotch to center his soul. Whatever. I spin around and hop into the elevator, punching the button for my floor.
As the doors open, I’m greeted by the rhythmic bang, bang, bang of something heavy slamming against drywall. I freeze. It’s the door across the hall, vibrating like it’s about to shake off its hinges. Then, a high, breathy moan echoes through the corridor.
My brows lift. Damn. Get it, girl.
The hallway stretches ahead like a runway, and it takes forever to reach my room at the far end. I kick through the war zone of clothes, shoes, and makeup scattered across the floor because my suitcases have obviously exploded. Somewhere beneath it all is the tiny clutch.
I finally find it buried under some underwear, and then I fire off a quick text to Nico.
Did he come back yet?
The walk back to the elevator feels even longer. I glance at the noisy door again—it’s quiet now. I wish the best for them and hope they finished strong. Today is a celebration of love, after all.
I press the elevator button. The doors glide open.
Behind me, I hear the soft creak of another door swinging wide.
I turn.
And my smirk suddenly dies a sudden death.