Page 67 of Yours, Now and Always
“Barely.”
Slow, knowing smiles spread across both our faces. We’re not mother-in-law and daughter-in-law in this moment. We’re two generations of women who’ve carried too many invisible things, sitting in solidarity. Sharing our messiness and vulnerability.
This kind of “I see you. I’ve been you.” moment always hits me deeper than a hug.
I need to know I’m not alone in my spirals. That I’m not the only woman who wants things to be perfect but doesn’t know how to hold it all together without breaking a little.
That it’s okay to care this much. To want the precious moments in life to matter.
To want today to feel like more than a dress and makeup and some nice photos.
Olivia’s voice filters into the kitchen, breaking our silence. “Amelia?” She comes into sight, joining us with a grin on her face. “Are we hiding or plotting in here?”
“Both,” I say.
Still grinning, her voice drops lower, conspiratorial. “Whatever it is you’re planning, I’m in. Just say the word.”
“How good are you with a shovel?” I deadpan.
She keeps a straight face. “Let’s just say that out of your sisters-in-law, I’m the one you’d want in charge of the shovel.Kristen’s nails would get too dirty, and Maddie, well we can’t risk the baby getting harmed.”
Both Ingrid and I laugh, and I actually feel my muscles loosen.
Olivia’s eyes soften. “You okay?”
“I am now.” I glance between her and Ingrid. “Thank you. I really needed this.”
“That’s what family is for.” Her expression tips into mischief. “Okay, let’s go back in. It’s time to make Tim cry.”
CHAPTER 23
AMELIA
It’s taken forty-five minutes, one sibling standoff, and six passive-aggressive glares from Tim, but I’m finally in the makeup chair.
No lashes will be applied.
Tim hasn’t spoken to me directly in the last ten minutes, which I’m pretty sure is a personal record. He’s taken up residence on one of the couches. Legs crossed, sunglasses on indoors, and the air around him heavy with betrayed artist energy.
His pride is wounded.
But he’s also . . . complying.
Because after Ingrid grounded me, and Olivia backed me, I finally remembered this ismywedding.
I almost feel bad.
Almost.
This isn’t the first time in our lives that Tim and I have had a standoff, and it won’t be the last. It’s just how us Sinclair siblings navigate life.
Tim pushes. I resist. Then he pushes harder until I snap. And Colin usually waits for the exact moment the dynamic tips from dramatic to dangerous, mutters, “I’m out,” and disappearsbehind his phone or into another room to avoid the (sometimes) nuclear fallout. Today, he didn’t disappear or hide behind his phone, but he’s made it clear he’s not getting involved.
I take a sip of my mimosa while the makeup artist in charge of my face disappears for a bathroom break before beginning. The chaos in this room has vanished. Like, fully evaporated. Everyone’s happy and calm. Tim’s sulking. And I am one with the universe.
My overwhelm has melted into serenity. Like, a weirdly luxurious serenity.
My muscles have dissolved.
