Page 39 of How to Ruin a Wedding
“This one is from a local artist.Chasing Reflections.It’s one of Anders’s favorites,” she says, arms crossed. “Older siblings are so dense. I was just starting to like you for getting Anders to back off the wedding. Please don’t bombard me with some lovey-dovey defense.”
A good point to bring up. I shouldn’t go against Anders in a way that’ll raise flags, but I need to get on Valerie’s good side. Earn her trust. Learn more about her relationship, figure out exactly where to poke, pull, twist, and pry, like she’s my own personal Bop It! Securing a place in her inner circle is my top priority.
If she wants to have incorrect opinions about sibling relationships, that’s her prerogative.
I press my hands together like I’m in prayer. “Forgive me for bombarding you with lovey-dovey interactions. Shall I equal things out with an insult?” When she raises a brow, I add, “I have never seen someone so terrible at parallel parking. Honest to God, I felt such secondhand embarrassment even though no one was around to see it.”
She laughs. “You should’ve. There were probably wandering ghosts that pointed and laughed. If you’ve seen him try to reverse into a space, you’ll know it can get even worse.”
“How’d he even get his license?”
She leans in like we’re coconspirators. “It took him five tries. And on the fifth, I’m pretty sure Aunt Bethany bribed the DMV examiner.”
I grab her hands. “Pleaselet me tease him about that.”
“I’d love it if you did. It’s one of the only things that riles him up.”
At the image my brain conjures of the cool, collected, charming Anders being anything but, my lips pull into a smile.
“Gross,” Valerie says, shoving me before continuing her journey through the gallery.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I glance down and see Joshua’s name, my stomach tightens.
“Hey, give me one sec?” I tell Valerie, already stepping away. “It’s a work thing.”
She shrugs and drifts toward a bright red canvas.
I answer the call, moving into a quieter corner near curvy, silhouette-shaped sculptures. “Hey, Joshua.”
“Lucy,” he says, upbeat but direct. “Just checking in. I wanted an update on how things are going on your end. You still on track for your buy?”
I force a smile he can’t see. “Yes, thanks for asking. Sure am.”
He hums, clearly not fully reassured. “That’s good to hear. The other potential buyer reached out again this morning. He’s ready to sign, and frankly, I can’t hold him off much longer unless I know you’re a sure thing.”
I press a hand to my forehead. “I’m in, Joshua. I want this. I just need a little more time to get the rest of the funds together. But I’ve got a plan. I’ll meet your deadline.”
There’s a beat of silence on his end. “All right. I just need to know where you stand, Lucy. I want this to be you. I know how bad you want it.”
“I’m in. I promise,” I say, too quickly.
“Okay,” he says. “Let me know if anything changes.”
The call ends, and I stand there for a second, heart hammering. I tuck my phone away, adjust my expression, and head back out into the gallery like this didn’t send every wing of anxiety fluttering in my stomach.
If anything, this needs to get me focused even harder on the task at hand.
When I spot Valerie walking, I match her pace, watching her weave through the building. Sometimes she stops to admire a piece; other times, she barely spares a glance. As someone with the artistic capabilities of a newborn, everything looks confusingly beautiful. Some pieces are so abstract I can’t even place what they are, and yet, my brain still simply thinkspretty.
“So,” I say, “it’s been half an hour, and you haven’t said a single bad thing about this place. Is it special?”
“Well, it was the first gallery ever built in Charleston.”
I roll my eyes. “I meant to you.”
She tosses her hair. “Not really.”
Her tone sounds normal, but her shoulders stiffen ever so slightly. She tilts her head away, and the act reminds me so much of Taina that a sense of homesickness strikes me square in the chest. I maneuver myself in front of her.
