Page 25 of On The Rocks

“Are you sure that’ll suit me?” I asked, my eyes widening at the sickly color. “I’m a bit pale for such a bright shade.”

“It doesn’t look like that when it’s on,” Shannon assured me. “It always looks brighter in the tube. It goes on almost clear. You don’t know anything about makeup, Maeve. Leave it to me.” She swiped the gooey gloss onto my lips and stepped back, casting a critical glance over my face. “There. Much better.”

I smiled, my heart softening at how amazing my stepsisters and step-aunt were being.

I’d settled on wearing my mammy’s wedding dress. It was way too ruffly for me and quite dated, but Orla had promised she’d take it to a seamstress and get it modernized. I’d told her I didn’t want anything revealing. A boob falling out of my dress on my wedding day with Father Michael looking on certainly wasn’t on my bingo card.

Erin moved to my back and started unrolling the heated curlers from my hair. “I’ll just finish off here, and we’ll do the big reveal.”

“Did it work?” I asked excitedly.

“It looks great,” Erin exclaimed. “The heat’s relaxed the frizz too. You’ve got some fifties pin-up curls going on, Maeve. Your hair’s never looked better.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled knowingly. “Callum won’t believe his eyes when he sees you.”

“He’ll be blown away,” Shannon added, her mouth twisting with humor. “He’ll take one look at you and?—”

“Girls!” Orla snapped. “Stop gabbing. We have to leave this house in ten minutes, and Maeve still has to put her dress on.”

An uneasy feeling swept through my stomach just as Erin began to tease my hair. “Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked.

“It’ll look like nothing anyone’s ever seen before,” she crowed.

The hardness of her tone made my eyes lift to catch Shannon smirking at Orla, whose mouth was twisted into a catty smile.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach intensified.

These women had been bitches toward me since I’d moved into their house when I was six. They’d never done anything to help me. In fact, all they’d ever done was try to hurt me.

“Get me a mirror,” I demanded, glaring at Shannon, who suddenly couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

“Och,” Orla exclaimed, her voice rising. “Let it be a surprise, Maeve.”

“Get me a mirror,” I ordered again, louder that time. I pushed Erin’s hands away and quickly stood before rushing toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

As I came into view, my steps faltered, and I gasped.

My hair looked like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket. A strangled cry escaped my throat, and my hands flew to my mouth in horror at my red locks, which were stuck out in a big ball of frizz. I groaned at the bright blue eyeshadow and thick, clumpy mascara. The bright pink of my lips matched the cerise smears of blusher across my cheeks that resembled a circus clown.

How could I marry Callum O’Shea when I looked like a big ginger microphone head who’d gotten into her mom’s makeup and had a seizure while applying it?

Sweet baby Jesus.

“What did you do?” I shrieked, whipping around to face my stepsisters.

Three pairs of eyes flicked over me, and three identical smirks twisted cruelly across their identical lips.

“Why?” I demanded, storming toward Erin. “What did I ever do to you?”

Her eyes slashed toward her mom, full of uncertainty. “Well?—”

“You hate me so much that you’d sabotage my wedding day?” I took another step closer and chest-bumped her backward.

“Oh, Maeve,” Orla drawled. “Don’t be so dramatic. You look fine.”

I spun to face her. “Fine?” I shrieked. “I look like a fucking clown!”

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