Page 45 of Chaos

“You don’t want to watch your beautiful, wonderful, smart nephew?” Luna pouts, stooping to kiss the crown of her son’s head. “You hear that, Iz?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I would never say that. I’d think it, maybe, but I didn’t do that either. I’m just confused. I would’ve thought my brother and his fiancé would sooner drive all the way to the small college town where their friends still live and leave him with them than entrust him to me overnight.

Evidently, I thought wrong.

“There’s milk and snacks downstairs,” Luna tells me. “He’s an angel,obviously, so he’ll probably sleep through the night. Jackson’ll swing by and get him in the morning. Oh, and—” She stoops to grab something out of the diaper bag on the floor and, with a flick of her hand, a swath of silky material floats towards me. “Try this on. Now, preferably, so we can get it altered in time for the wedding.”

I frown at the light blue fabric sitting on my bed. “What is it?”

Luna looks at me like I’m a dumbass. “Your bridesmaids dress.”

I almost choke. “Mywhat?”

She repeats herself, slow and over-enunciating, but I still don’t get it. “You don’t have to do this,” I say just as slow. “I don’t have to be in the wedding.”

“I want you to be.”

Unfathomable. “Luna…”

“You think I just had an extra dress lying around? I want you in the wedding, Lottie. I always wanted you to be in the wedding.”

Cheeks going a little hot, I watch my thumb and forefinger as they pinch the smooth fabric, rubbing it between them. “And you thought if you hoped hard enough I’d magically appear?”

“No, snippy. I thought you’d get the invitation we sent.”

“I never got any invitation.”

“Yeah, we know that now. We thought you just ignored it.”

I drop my gaze, struck with an unsettling bout of shame because I probably would’ve. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Wearing a soft, cautious, very un-Luna-like smile, my future sister-in-law perches on the edge of my bed. “What’re the chances you’ll dye your hair to match my color scheme?”

“Slim to none.”

She sighs. “Thought so. Fix the roots and I’ll be happy.”

I only mumble a reluctant agreement because I know if I don’t, she’ll probably do it for me in my sleep. For the same reason, I clamber to my feet at her urging, letting her snatch her son back in exchange for what I’ll be wearing to her wedding—to beinher wedding. Because privacy is not a concept Luna is familiar with, she doesn’t allow me any as I change.

It’s surprising, honestly, that she even turns her back, humming a lullaby beneath her breath as she scans the small space around us with way too much interest for my liking.

“The wine’s hidden in my underwear drawer, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“You’ve got a complex, you know that?” Luna sighs again as she turns around, the noise becoming a gasp as her face contorts into an expression that’s as goofy as the way she croons my name.

I, on the other hand, groan at my reflection in the long mirror propped against the wall. The dress is so…Luna. One wrong move away from scandalous with a touch of ridiculous extravagance. Skin-tight from the scoop cowl neck to where the hem hits the floor, with thick straps that give way to… well, nothing. My whole back is out, from the nape of my neck down to just above the waistband of my thong, and a satin fucking bow really highlights the tattoo I got when I was nineteen and thought a tramp stamp was the coolest thing in the world.

To be fair, I still do.

And while I love to show off the pretty, intricate butterfly wings the same way I love to show off a little skin, I still think, “I look ridiculous.”

“You look beautiful.” Luna appears in the mirror too, her head crooked to one side as her eyes stray to something in the reflection that isn’t me. “Finn, doesn’t she look beautiful?”

I tense. More desperate for a response than I care to admit, I twist to face the man half-emerging from the attic trapdoor—the man who hasn’t spoken to me since I told him to go fuck himself. He’s barely even looked at me in two days, so I consider it a real miracle when those dark eyes land on me long enough to widen before flitting away.

That long, thick neck constricts with a tight swallow. “She does.”

---