The Paradise Problem (66)
Gold dominates everything, from the towering croquembouche wrapped in golden spun sugar to yards of gossamer fabric and shimmering beads draped along the tent’s outer walls. It strikes me that there aren’t any flowers anywhere; instead, the real showstopper is a gilded tree in the center of the room, its branches heavy with pearls and teardrops of sparkling gems. I can only hope it’s all fake, because while what they’ve managed to pull off on a tiny island in the middle of the ocean is impressive, I agree with Anna: some beers and beach chairs would be preferable to this every time. If they wanted something this lavish, this elaborate, why not just host the wedding in California, where everything is right there?
But I know why. Everything—literally everything—is for show.
Even this woman on my arm.
Next to me, Anna looks out over the extravagance and whistles. “Just another simple family get-together. I hope I never get used to this.”
I drag my free hand through my hair. “Yeah.”
Anna turns to me, arms outstretched dramatically like she’s ready for me to waltz her across the dance floor. She speaks out of her mouth, playfully old-timey: “What do you say, old chum? Ready for some hotsy-totsy?”
I give her an apologetic smile. “I was thinking I might check in on my sister. I haven’t seen much of her since we’ve been here. I’ll find you when I’m done?”
Her face falls but in true Anna fashion, it bounces right back again. “Okay, yeah.”
With a little smirk, she stretches, kissing my cheek and whispering, “See ya later, weirdo,” in my ear before she walks across the room to the bar, where Jake and Jamie are talking. Feelings I thought I’d banished return, hot and insistent. Is she doing this on purpose? Walking to Jamie to make me jealous?
With a groan, I take a glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter and pull in a deep breath. Anna’s right: I’m being a basket case. If my urge is to run from her, to disentangle myself from whatever it is we started and which tripped this strange, impatient feeling in my gut, then the best thing for it is to imagine her moving on, to remind myself that, in only a handful of days, we will both move on, and in a matter of months, we will never have to see each other ever again.
And yet here I stand, decidedly not finding my sister, instead watching heads turn as Anna crosses the room. This place is full of beautiful gowns, but nobody looks like her. Even if her dress is simple, it fits her like a glove—hugging the narrow dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the decadent curve of her ass. Wherever fabric exposes flesh, her skin seems to glow under the strung lights.
Jake greets her with a kiss to the cheek, saying something that makes her burst out laughing bawdily. She does a little dance and Jake immediately joins in, sending the three of them into hysterics.
“What has you smiling like this?”
I look over at my mother, who has materialized at my side. I… hadn’t realized I’d been smiling. She’s dressed like Grace Kelly, in a fitted black top and full white skirt, her usual updo smoothed back into loose blond curls. My mother idolized Grace Kelly when we were growing up and has dressed as her character from Rear Window to at least half a dozen fancy Halloween parties. Now she tracks my attention to Anna standing with Jake. “Ah. I see.” My mother brings her glass to her mouth, taking a long sip of her dirty martini. “She looks lovely in that gown.”
“She does.”
“She seems like a sweet girl, darling.”
“She is.” I sip my wine. “Maybe you could ease up on her?”
Mom laughs. “Oh, I will. Eventually. That’s part of the deal, you know? Grandma Lottie scared the living hell out of me, now I get to do it.”
“Granny Lottie didn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
“To you,” she intones. “It’s possible to have varying experiences with people. Your sister would probably tell a very different story of your father than would you or your brothers.”
She’ll get no argument from me. Four siblings and we’ve all handled the fallout in our own ways. Alex turned into a desperate yes-man. Jake is the sunshine clown who looks for a joke to get out of every tense moment. And I’m the chronic overthinker who internalizes everything. No wonder I can’t make sense of my feelings today. We watch Jake as he animatedly tells a story. Anna says something that seems to refute whatever he’s saying and the two play-argue, pointing at each other. With a smile, Jamie sets his hand on her back, leaning in—
I’m moving before I fully register it, shouldering my way through the crowd, passing family and acquaintances and business associates of my father’s without engaging before coming up behind Anna so close that Jamie immediately withdraws his hand from her skin.
Skin that I hadn’t yet touched in that dress.
Anna startles when she feels me behind her. She turns, finding me standing barely inches away from her back. “West.”
Wrapping a hand around her hip, I nod to my brother, then to Anna’s ex. “Jake. Jamie.” I bend, kissing her shoulder. “Wife.”
My little brother smirks. “Liam.”
But when I look down at her, her brown eyes blaze up at me. And it’s only when she excuses herself and walks away, marching straight out of the tent that I finally register the unnamed cocktail of anguish that’s been churning in me all day.