How to Ruin a Wedding(30)

She hops off and places her hands on her hips, looks me up and down with a full-blown assessment before speaking. “Pretty, and smells like peaches even though you just got off a plane, two pluses. Do you like dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

She crosses her arms, covered in colorful friendship bracelets running their length. “If you had one superpower, what would it be?”

“Teleportation.”

“Who wins in a fight: Iron Man or Thor?”

I smirk at the interrogation. “Verbally: Iron Man. Physically: Thor.”

“What’s the best sauce to dip fries in?”

“Ice cream.”

“Do you think nine is too young for a phone?”

“All right.” Anders ruffles Olive’s light-brown hair, blond in spots because of the beaming sun. “Introduce yourself like a normal human being, please.”

“Mom says ‘normal’ is a man-made construct that I shouldn’t have to abide by.”

Anders half laughs, half sighs. “Olive.”

Olive rolls her big, hazel eyes framed with blue mascara—the only thing about her I can attach to Anders. She holds out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Olive; it’s nice to meet you. You seem cool enough. For now.”

I shake her hand, firmly, each of her fingernails painted a different color. “I’m Lucy, and you seem cool too. For now.”

She smirks, then wraps an arm around me, leading me to the front door. “How’d you know about the ice-cream thing?”

“My little sister has asked for that combination almost every week of her life.”

“So cool.”

Olive leads us through the home, so many frames pinned along the walls that it takes me a moment to spot the sliver of gold paint behind them. I trip over someone’s boot as we walk through the living area to the kitchen, overlooking emerald couches and chairs, dozens of colorfully patterned rugs, and candles surrounding us in warm cinnamon and vanilla scents.

A woman in a flour-and grease-stained red apron that matches the bright red shade of her silky hair approaches us, then punches Anders’s arm. He feigns pain before Bethany wraps him in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in months. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Anders pulls away, his clothes stealing some of Bethany’s flour. “It’s been a single month.”

“Wow, and now you’re claiming I don’t know how to count? I hope your guest has more manners than you.”

Bethany turns to me then, and I get the full view of pale, glowing skin, so good I honestly can’t tell if it’s skin care or makeup, and a sharp, heavily defined Cupid’s-bow smile not unlike Anders’s. The only sign of her age is the wrinkles by her eyes and nose, made more pronounced when she smiles at me. “Lucinda.”

“Please, call me Lucy,” I say, hand outstretched, “and I promise I am filled with abundant manners. I can say thank you in seven different languages.”

A joyous laugh erupts out of her as she tackles me into a hug. “Thank you for coming. I know you’re right from the airport.”

Anders wraps an arm around me, pulling me against him so my back is tucked into his chest. “If I had known you were cooking, I would have stopped at a diner so my poor girlfriend could have something edible after her trip.”

The warmth of his body behind me feels comforting enough, and it almost tricks me into thinking it’s real. But it’s all an act, one I’d have no problem falling into in any other situation. I have to view this as a job, because it is, and that doesn’t change just because Anders is beautiful and sweet and way too affectionate for his own good.

“Don’t worry.” A voice comes from behind as a woman so strikingly beautiful I actually gasp enters with oversized brown bags on both her slim arms. She drops them on the circular island and brushes her hands together. “I brought Vinnie’s.”

“Did you get calamari?” Olive pipes up from the couch she threw herself on.

“Obviously.” Valerie pops a hand on her hip, stopping just out of arm’s reach. The silky white top clinging to her petite frame is something I swear Taina tried to sneak into my luggage, and her curled, layered hair could be one of those pictures you look up as a reference for your own hair stylist who can never get it right. “So, you’re the secret girlfriend.”

“Not so secret anymore,” I say.

She snorts, her tiny nose wrinkling as her green eyes land on Anders. “Hard launching your girlfriend right after your ex-girlfriend’s wedding. You sure you’re not spiraling?”

Anders pulls away and reaches for Valerie in a full hug. “Is that sibling concern I hear?”

Valerie makes a disgusted noise before wiggling out and walking toward me, scanning me up and down, then twisting my hair in her fingers. Her once-over is a lot more focused and x-ray-like than Olive’s. “Cute, if a bit understated.” Her sharp nails poke at the side of my face. “Ever heard of microneedling?”

“Nope.” I reach over and press a finger to the side of her face. “But if it can get me looking a fraction of how pretty you are, I’m more than willing to try.”

She lightly slaps my shoulder. “Shut up,” she says, her grin filling her heart-shaped face. “Do you mean it?”