Bad Cruz(10)

“Easy for you to say. You were always stick-thin. Do you want me to look bloated in the wedding photos?”

You’re so welcome, little sis.

“Where’s Mom?”

I sat next to her, cradling my mug of coffee. I’d been cutting Trinity some slack on the behavioral front, seeing as she was about to tie the knot in six weeks. I’d watched enough episodes of Bridezillas to know that, on the anxiety scale, planning a wedding could be the equivalent to giving birth to triplets with no epidural.

“She went to exchange the macarons for the bachelorette party gift kits. She totally forgot Gabriella’s allergic to nuts and ordered normal macarons, with almonds and all. We had a screaming match last night, which ended with me telling her that if she was going to kill my maid of honor, she might as well fess up and I’ll just call the whole thing off. Finally, she managed to convince Mrs. Patel to remake them. Pretty sure Mrs. Patel didn’t sleep a wink last night, but what can you do, right?”

You could just tell Gabriella not to touch the macarons. It’s not like she has consumed a carb in the last seven years, anyway.

“How does one make macarons without almonds?” I wondered aloud.

“One does not care, as long as the maid of honor doesn’t drop dead at her bachelorette party.” Trinity snorted, dropping another frostless donut she’d nibbled on back into the pack and picking a new one. “Do you think this’ll be enough?” She motioned to the table in front of us, which was laden with mini champagne bottles, personalized lip balms, Mani Thanks nail polish, bath bombs, and fluffy personalized socks. “I wanted to do matching Swarovski earrings for each of us, but Dad said he’d take me out of his will if I spent that much money.”

“I think this is more than enough.”

I also thought it was going to be really tedious to decorate each kit with multicolored raffia paper and miniature handmade candy, especially since I wasn’t going to be the recipient of even one of these bags.

“Why isn’t Gabriella helping you? She’s the maid of honor,” I pointed out. With all her free time.

I was totally not bitter about it, by the way.

“She wanted to, but then she had to rush into the city to find a nice dress for a black tie charity event Cruz is attending. He didn’t actually invite her, but you know men. So forgetful. You’re not mad, are you?”

Trinity glanced at me from the corner of her eye, licking the icing from a soggy donut.

I never could say no to my baby sister, and she knew it. I’d pluck the moon and all the stars from the sky just to put a smile on her face. She’d been there for me the first five years of Bear’s life and served as a second mother to him.

“No.” I grabbed one of the baskets we’d used for the kits and began stuffing it to get a head start. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because I had no idea you were working today.”

This, I knew, was a lie.

“And also, Gabriella has been giving me super weird vibes, and I just don’t want the drama. I know she’s just being immature, but I’m glad you’re the bigger person.”

This, unfortunately, was not a lie.

Gabby, Trinity’s best friend, had never liked me. But she especially hadn’t liked me ever since she had started dating Mr. Perfect. I had no idea why, and at this point in life, I didn’t care.

Some people were simply destined not to like you. If they didn’t have a good enough reason, I thought you should let them. As the old saying went, whatever people thought of me was none of my business.

Although, in Gabriella’s case, it truly was, because she seemed to avoid any pre-wedding event where I was included.

“It’s fine. Everything is fine,” I repeated firmly. I continued to fill the baskets with nail polish and fluffy socks and bath bombs while Trinity scrutinized me, licking donuts and pondering the situation with a somber expression.

“Good. Ugh, Nessy, you’re such a lifesaver. You have no idea how stressed I am about this whole wedding. The preparations, the fittings, the last-minute changes…it’s just too much. I know I should be grateful, but this cruise comes at such an inconvenient time. I have so much to work on. Not to mention I just know how it’s going to play out. Mr. and Mrs. Costello are going to look down at us the entire time. There’s no pacifying Catherine Costello.”

Trinity’s lips puckered, and it occurred to me that she hadn’t even asked me how I was doing. Or if something new was going on in my life. Or, you know, if my ex had happened to show up after thirteen years of radio silence and turn my life upside down.

“You know I joined the Ladies who Brunch church committee just to impress her? Catherine, I mean. I thought she’d be there every week. She doesn’t even show up, Nessy. She just throws money at the foundation every month to keep her title,” Trinity accused.

I was about to tell her she didn’t need to make her future mother-in-law her best friend when it was apparent Catherine Costello was colder than a fish in a frozen pond, when the door flung open and Mom rushed in, her gazillion necklaces crashing into one another in a symphony of ill-advised fashion.

“I’m here. I’m here. Sorry I was late. I had to interrogate Mrs. Patel about the macaron recipe to accommodate everyone’s allergies.”

My mother hurried inside, her round face flushed, her graying hair a nest atop her head.