Page 85 of Yours, Now and Always
He goes back to searching in his case, muttering, “Gage is lucky he’s hot, because this is sabotage. He really said to himself ‘let me wreck her whole glam for sport.’ Absolutely unhinged behavior.”
“He’s so pretty,” I say dreamily. “Like, too pretty. It’s honestly distracting. Do you think he knows how pretty he is?”
Colin gives me a look. It feels very exasperatey. “Yes, Amelia. Gage knows.”
“Good. Someone should tell him regularly. I’ll tell him. I tell him all the time.” I frown, thinking about something. “Is exasperatey a word? I can’t remember.”
Tim snaps his fingers. “We’re on the brink of collapse here and you’re asking philosophical questions about Gage’s face and words that are absolutelynotwords?” He shakes his head and it reminds me of the look my mother sometimes gives me. “You need to focus. We don’t have all day to fix this shambles your face is in.”
Marin bursts into the greenhouse at that exact moment, saving me from Tim’s wrath.
“I got a text from Gage alerting me to the need for triage, so I brought supplies.” She comes to a dead stop when she sees my face. “Babes. Respectfully? That man should’ve been physical restrained from seeing you before the wedding. This is giving‘emotional annihilation via spouse’ and honestly, iconic, but also a crime against makeup.”
“He built me a path,” I say, and my voice cracks. “With candles. And I talked to the flowers. They were very understanding.”
Marin and Tim exchange a look.
“So, still high.” Marin says.
“So high,” I confirm. “The petals and I had a moment.”
“Okay,” Tim says, pulling out tools as if he’s a surgeon prepping for an operation. “Marin, grab the cleanser. We need to fix the mascara carnage first.”
Marin works quickly, gently wiping my skin. “Bestie, you’re a hot mess, but like, in a tragic romance kind of way.”
“I feel very tragic,” I agree. “But also, very floaty. It’s a whole vibe. I?—”
“Nope,” Tim cuts me off. “No talking. Talking makes you cry, and I’m not above sedating you if you cry again.”
Colin snorts. “Wouldn’t be the first time today you’ve sedated her.”
Tim’s expression says he’s resisting the urge to throw a brush at him. “That was a healing experience she chose for herself, Colin. Completely different energy.”
“The cookies chose me, and then the chair chose me,” I say very seriously. “We had a whole relationship.”
“Please stop talking about the chair,” Tim begs.
He starts dabbing foundation on my face. “We need to move fast. We’re on a timeline and Gage is waiting.”
“He’s so patient,” I murmur, eyes getting misty again. “He waited for three whole months. And now he’s waiting again. He’s always waiting. That’s so beautiful.”
“Amelia,” Tim warns sternly, “if you cry right now, I will duct tape your tear ducts shut. I will petition the universe to revoke your access to emotions.” He pauses dramatically. “Your face is aCANVAS and you are about to RUIN THE EXHIBIT. AGAIN. Do NOT test me.”
That’s so aggressive. Like, objectively aggressive. Is this normal sibling energy on a wedding day? It feels mean. But also...maybe I deserve it? I did ruin the canvas. Badly. The canvas didn’t ask to be ruined. Poor canvas.
“Okay, people,” Marin says, swooping in with take-charge energy. “You do face and eyes.” She hands Tim products. “I’ll handle lips.”
They work in synchronized chaos, and while he’s applying mascara, Tim declares, “If he cries during the ceremony, I’m claiming it as a personal victory.”
“The wand is very close to my eyeball,” I whisper, very focused on not moving. “That’s so much trust. I’m trusting you with my eyeball right now.”
“And yet you wouldn’t trust me about the lashes earlier,” Tim mutters. He finishes and steps back. “Marin, lips and then we’re done.”
She swipes on lipstick and says, “May this hold stronger than your grip on sanity today.”
“Amen,” Colin says from somewhere behind them.
“Oh my god,” Marin breathes when she steps back and assesses me.
