Page 62 of Capri

One month later

“That’s notwhat I envisioned it looking like,” I mumble, scoping out the canvas in front of me.

Collie turns her head, eyeing my work of failure. “Not great, Picasso. Not great.”

I flick my paintbrush at her, signaling for her to shut it.

“I’m terrible at this,” I huff. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

Capri stands beside me and turns the horribly painted canvas around—out of sight. “You’re not…terrible. Painting just might not be the best hobby for you. You’ll find it.”

Right.

Since getting back from Italy, I made a promise to myself that I’d try new things. Today, I attempted painting. It looks like I do not have a future painting the next Mona Lisa or being featured in art exhibits.

“Why don’t you come try one of my classes?” Collie asks.

“Do I look like someone who does CrossFit, Collie?” I flex my lack of muscle.

She laughs. “Don’t be like that. You can always do hip-hop fitness. Everyone loves that class.”

“Yeah, everyone with rhythm,” I joke.

The rhythmic gene stuck with Collie and skipped me. I have two left feet and sprinkler moves you wouldn’t believe.

Need someone to demonstrate the worm? I’m your girl.

“Well, the offer is there,” she reassures me before changing the subject. “Did you get Mariah’s invitation in the mail?”

My smile is wide. “I did. God, she’s going to be the most stunning bride. The venue they chose is gorgeous.”

“It’s crazy how life comes full circle. One day, the three of us are growing up together, sneaking out of the house with boys during the holidays, and the next, she’s getting married,” Collie replies, her voice reflecting much simpler times.

Mariah gets married, I get divorced. Exciting year.

“Crazy,” I say. “I’m happy for her.”

Mariah is our cousin on Dad’s side of the family. She grew up a couple streets down from us in Timber Heights and moved away for college nearly eight years ago. We’ve seen each other off and on at family events but I have yet to meet her fiancé.

“You gonna go?” Collie asks.

“Doubt it. I’ll be drowning in new school year chaos.”

She nudges my side. “Oh, come on. Where’s my sister who said yes to everything and lived life in the moment?”

I left her in Capri.That’s where.

She knows that’s a touchy subject. More touchy than I’m proud of. “Cols, don’t. Please.”

She walks to the pantry and grabs herself a snack. My eyes gravitate toward the still-full bag of mini jawbreakers tucked in the corner of the cabinet.

Nothing about them sounds appetizing. They’ll be sitting there indefinitely at this point. Rotting and left uneaten.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she breathes out, offering me a kettle chip.

“I’m good,” I murmur, attempting to laugh it off.

“Will you at least think about it? For me?”

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