Page 76 of Mess With Me

I picture Sam hoisting me on his back, my fancy dress-up shoes soaked as he chased me through the sprinklers while the media shot pictures on the other side of the house.

I can’t think about that. I can’t think about him now, either, or my heart might break right in half.

Griffin’s sisters look at me with concern. “You okay?” Cass asks.

I nod, though I’m not okay. Not really. “I do wish they were here,” I say, my voice cracking.

Cass squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be hard for Griffin not having Mom here,” Chelsea says.

I know the family lost their matriarch only a few years ago.

Chelsea brushes eye shadow onto my eyelids. “Mom was the funniest combo of all of us. A planner like Cass, but when she got mad at injustice, she was like Eli.”

“She’d lose it,” Cass agreed. “But she was also playful, like Jude.”

“She loved the card game Hearts,” Chelsea says. “Can you play?”

“I’m not bad,” I say. I’m actually decent at it. My mom’s mother used to love it. It’s the one thing my family still does on occasion that has my parents letting their guards down.

“Our mom also drew pictures, like Chelsea,” Cass says.

I know Chelsea’s an accomplished artist. Griffin has one of her paintings hanging in his living room.

That’s all the siblings they’ve counted off. Except Griffin.

Cass sees me waiting expectantly and smiles as she curls my hair with an iron. “Honestly, in some ways, Mom was most like Griffin. She was private about some things, especially her own childhood.”

“We don’t actually know a lot about that side of the family.” Chelsea agrees. “Her parents passed when she was young, and she was raised by our great-aunt. She never talked about what that was like for her.”

“I bet she had the same heart as Griffin, though,” I say before realizing I’ve opened my mouth.

Chelsea smiles. “She did. She was fiercely loyal to her family, even as she ran the business. Just like Griffin. And she always looked out for the little guy like him, too.”

Cass has curled my already natural waves a little tighter and begins piling part of it on my head. “One time someone left their child at the hotel when they took separate flights to Europe.”

“Oh my God, I forgot about that,” Chelsea says. “It was crazy, like aHome Alonesituation where each parent thought the other had him.”

Cass adds a pin to my hair. “He was nine, from France. Barely spoke any English. Completely distraught, obviously. But Mom brought him home while she tried to reach the parents. He stayed with us for two nights, and the only people he’d talk to was Mom and Griffin.”

“I swear Griff taught himself French overnight,” Chelsea laughs. “He acted like the kid’s bodyguard at dinner when everyone was trying to talk to him. Ushered him away when he saw he was getting upset.”

“Griff was only twelve,” Cass says. “He slept on the floor so Charles could have his bed.”

I want to keep hearing stories about little Griffin, but I happen to glance at my phone on the vanity and swear. “Oh my God, I have to be downtown in twenty minutes!”

Chelsea gives an excited little noise. “It’s finally happening.”

“I guess I’m done, then,” Cass says, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Do you like it?”

My stomach plunges as I’m brought back to what we’re doing here. I’m getting married. To a man who, by all accounts, would probably make an incredible real husband. Except it’s all for show.

“You okay?” Chelsea asks. Both sisters are heading for the door to leave me to change.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Nervous, maybe, a little.”

Chelsea’s eyes glisten again. “I understand. But we’ll be right there with you.”

---