Playing for Keeps (Heartbreaker Bay #7)(30)

Not ideal.

But she smiled at the memory of Caleb dropping to his knees to hug Lollipop hello, laughing softly at the sight of several lip gloss kiss prints that Sadie had inadvertently left all over the dog’s face. “Lucky dog,” he’d murmured and something had quivered deep inside Sadie as their eyes had met and held.

And she’d had to admit to herself that she wouldn’t have minded having her mouth on that square scruffy jaw.

Or on his lips . . .

“Helloooooo!” Clara went hands on hips, accidentally dislodging the seamstress off the platform. “Bride here! Can you or can you not can see nipplage through this dress?”

Sadie looked over her sister’s perfect store-bought C’s. “Yep, but if it helps, it’s pretty nice-looking nipplage.”

Her aunt Thea gasped as if personally affronted.

“Oh my God.” Clara slapped her hands over her breasts.

“No worries,” Addie said quickly. “We carry some strapless bras for just this very thing. We can sew it right into the dress.” She produced one quickly and Clara sucked in a breath at the price tag of one hundred bucks.

“It’s fine,” her mom said. “We don’t put a price on hiding our nipples.”

While the bride worked on getting herself into the bra, her mom looked around. “Now. What about Sadie?”

Sadie froze with a chip halfway to her mouth, realizing the question was the refrain of her entire life in three words.

What about Sadie?

Once upon a time this would have sent her spiraling. But she’d learned to accept herself.

Mostly.

Clara turned her attention from her reflection to Sadie. “Did you pick out which style of bridesmaid dress you like yet?”

“Whichever you want me to wear,” Sadie said.

“I want you to pick.”

Sadie glanced at the rack of bridesmaid dresses that they’d all already gone through. She loved Addie, she really did, but none of the dresses were her style. “Today’s about you. I’ll come back to do that another time.”

Clara shook her head. “We’ve shopped around for months. Why can’t you just pick one?”

“I don’t know,” Sadie said. “Why do bras cost a hundred bucks and dresses cost a gazillion dollars and yet men’s shirts come in a plastic pack of four for ten bucks? Just another of life’s little mysteries.”

“Do you have any new tattoos you’ll have to hide with your dress?” Aunt Thea asked.

Since the subject of Sadie’s tattoos had long been a bone of contention, everyone stilled.

“Well, I’m just saying,” Aunt Thea said. “They’re pretty permanent, you know.”

“And you have four kids,” Clara said in Sadie’s defense. “Those are pretty damn permanent too.”

“It’s okay,” Sadie said, not wanting this to turn into a fight. “I’ll wear whatever you guys want.”

Her mom sighed.

Sadie knew that sigh. It was the martyr sigh. The one that said Sadie was being difficult again. And since she wasn’t actually trying for difficult, she gave a peace offering. “Really. Whatever you guys want, I like them all.”

At this, her sister snorted. “No, you don’t. You hate big fancy weddings and all the craziness that goes with them.”

“And yet you made me a bridesmaid.”

“Hey, you should be thanking me for not making you maid of honor. Can you just pick the dress that you hate the least?”

Since Sadie wasn’t a fan of taffeta or satin, not to mention weddings in general, she wasn’t sure that was possible, but for Clara, she’d try. “Are you sure you don’t have a favorite yourself?”

Addie gently piped in here, clearly trying to be helpful. “Usually, a bridesmaid really wants to have a say in what she wears—”

“Oh, that’s just Sadie,” her mom said. “Don’t bother pushing her, she doesn’t care. You could tell her the world was coming to an end tomorrow and she wouldn’t care about that either.”

Sadie stuffed another chip in her mouth. She’d heard her mom say this before, many times. It wasn’t accurate, it wasn’t even close to accurate, but she could see how her mom had gotten there, since when it came to the Lane family, Sadie was the Which-Of-These-Things-Is-Not-Like-The-Others.

And she got it, she really did. She’d grown up in a very normal middle-America-type existence. A suburban home complete with white picket fence, two parents and a sister who’d happily played soccer, taken gymnastic lessons, and been a Girl Scout.

And then there was Sadie, the square peg that couldn’t fit into the round hole to save her own life. Growing up, she’d preferred being alone with a sketch pad and a pencil to sports, clubs, or birthday parties. She’d been quiet, and when spoken to by anyone she didn’t know, she’d come off as sullen and uninterested.

The uninterested part might have been true. But she had always felt so out of place in her own skin and hadn’t known how to express that. She’d used her art when she could, drawing in secret, refusing to allow anyone to see her work.

Complicating her existence was the fact that she also didn’t look like anyone in her family. Her parents and sister were tall and lanky lean. They ate like birds and exercised to within an inch of their regimented lives.