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This is news to me. But then, maybe it wouldn’t be if I’d called my sister back. Her flurry of texts and voice messages slowed to a slow drip and then stopped altogether. Which means she’s probably gearing up for something.
A surprise trip down for the wedding, sounds like. Just when we least expect her—a very Annie move. I’ll be looking for her behind every door. I should probably check under my bed tonight.
“I’ll get to meet her?” Bailey asks, sounding excited and also a little like she might throw up.
I squeeze her fingers. “She’ll love you. Probably overwhelm you a little too.”
She looks unsure, and I’d bet it’s because Annie will be one more important person Bailey has to lie to. I get it. This is the same reason I’ve avoided my sister for almost a week.
“Hey,” I say softly, hoping Mom and Zella don’t hear over their own conversation, which has carried on without us. “We’ll be fine. Okay?”
Bailey nods, still a little hesitantly. I’d love to have a few minutes alone with her, to maybe kiss some confidence back into her.
Or is that just because I want to kiss her again? Either way. Both.
Leaning closer, Bailey lowers her voice. “This all feels like so much. Like, the lie is snowballing. Meeting your sister. And getting a free designer wedding gown?” She shakes her head, and her hair brushes against my arm.
I glide my fingers along the lock of her hair, giving it a little tug as I smile. “Hey. I get it. I do. But it’s okay to enjoy it,” I tell her, even as I’m telling myself the same thing. “You’re making Mom happy. Zella too. Annie will be so thrilled she’ll probably steamroll you into getting matching tattoos or something.”
“And you?” Bailey asks, looking down at our clasped hands. “Are you happy?”
More than I feel ready to admit. “Yes, Leelee. I’m happy.”
An understatement, really.
Zella claps her hands, making us both jump a little. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for in a wedding gown? Actually, let’s get hands-on. Come over here and let’s talk fabrics.”
Still looking like she has half a mind to run away or apologize or call Zella ma’am again, Bailey stands. I don’t let go of her right away, playfully tugging on her fingers before releasing them slowly, letting my fingertips drag lightly over her palm. She looks back at me once, and I wink, flashing her a smile. Ducking her head, she follows Zella to the large table by the back windows.
I can’t stop watching Bailey. The way her brown hair glints gold in the sun streaming through the windows. The way she leans down to pet the white fluffy dog actively trying to climb her leg, while still not missing what Zella is saying. Every movement feels somehow beautiful or significant, carrying more weight than it deserves.
“I love seeing you like this.” Mom stares smugly at me over the rim of her mug.
I stretch out, sliding my legs down until my feet are right next to Mom’s. Tapping her foot with mine, I raise my brows. “Seeing me like what?”
“In love,” she says.
In love.
Two little words. One big lie.
Isn’t it? Love for sure is a stretch, though my feelings for Bailey just keep growing. But knowing this started as just a way to keep me and Mom in the country makes guilt rise like bile in my throat. I hate not being fully honest with Mom. But there is no way she can know about the agreement Bailey and I struck. Or why.
And if things progress like I hope they are—and will—Mom never needs to know. Or maybe years down the road if things work out and the marriage becomes real, we’ll tell her and all have a good laugh about how it started.
In an attempt to detract from the guilt, I take a big sip of the tea and immediately burn my tongue. How is Mom drinking this? It’s way too hot.
“You’re so in love you can’t even admit it,” Mom says with a laugh. “See—I told you the right woman wouldn’t ever think you’retoo much.”
She scoffs those last two words, and my throat goes dry. I really want that to be true of Bailey.
My eyes find her across the room. She’s laughing, and so is Zella, who has a tape measure out and a pencil between her teeth. As though she feels my gaze, Bailey turns my way. I expect a shy look, but instead, she raises her brows and gives me a goofy smile that has me chuckling.
“You really should call Annie, you know,” Mom says.
“I know.”
But there are big reasons I haven’t called or texted Annie back. Lying to my sister is harder even than lying to my mom. Less because of the guilt and more because I don’t know if I can pull it off. My mother is a smart woman. But Annie is devious. Where Mom might not ever suspect I’d do something like this, Annie wouldn’t put anything past me. Probably because she’s right.
