Serves Me Wright

“That’s not what she means,” Sutton said knowingly.

“No. I know that she tried to ruin his life and sabotage the winery. I certainly don’t forgive her for it. But I’m also not a Sinclair.” I gestured to Sutton. “And I’m not a Wright.”

“Neither am I,” Annie said quickly.

“But you’re Annie,” Sutton said.

“Right! You’re Annie,” I gushed. “You’re Miss Self-Confidence. Your whole motto is, I am woman. Hear me roar.” Annie laughed but didn’t deny it. “I’m more the David Rose type and you know, not connecting.”

Sutton chuckled.

“Who cares if you’re not like me? There’s no reason that Julian shouldn’t see how wonderful you are in your own way.”

“But how could he? When I didn’t see it in myself first?”

They were both silent at that question. It was true. I wasn’t just shy; I actively self-sabotaged my own life. I got in my own way. I’d rather stay inside than go out. I was more comfortable in front of a camera. I preferred the company of cats that didn’t even belong to me to ninety-five percent of people. And I wanted to be as bold as Annie, but that wasn’t who I was.

“Part of me still feels like the nobody I’ve always been. And the last couple years with you two and all your amazing friends and family was just a dream.” I shrugged. “I liked Julian, but I didn’t feel good enough for him.”

“Well, good news,” Sutton said, taking my hand, “it’s not a dream.”

I laughed. “I’m so glad.”

“And,” Annie said pointedly, hands on her hips, “if anything, you’re way too good for Julian.”

“Yeah, right,” I sputtered.

“He had his chance with you, and he ended up dating someone like Ashleigh Sinclair,” she said furiously. “If he didn’t see what he was missing, that was his own damn fault for having bad taste. Not your fault. Not because you’re nobody. You’re our friend, and we most certainly don’t have bad taste.”

“We do not,” Sutton agreed easily.

I nearly choked on their words. Tears came to my eyes, unbidden, and I laughed as I swiped at them. “I love y’all.”

“We love you, too,” Annie said, pulling us in for a group hug.

“Now,” Sutton said as we broke apart, “have a margarita and tell us everything.”

I took the margarita glass out of her hand and tugged off my cover-up. “Well, first things first. I’m going with Julian to a gala on Friday, and I need a kick-ass dress.”

“I thought you already had a dress,” Annie said.

“I did. But…that was when I was going with him as a fake date. If I’m going as his girlfriend, then I want to show up Ashleigh.”

Annie cackled. “There’s my Jennifer.”

Sutton smiled mischievously. “I think we can handle that.”

* * *

When Friday rolled around, I still wasn’t completely satisfied with my dress situation. I’d tried on the most incredible dress with Annie. Until I saw the price tag and nearly threw up. I couldn’t get the gorgeous thing off of me fast enough. I’d worried that I might even sweat on the thing. No event was worth the price tag on that thing…even if it was as close to perfect as I could get. So, Blaire had called in some favors, and we had a dress, but it still didn’t feel like the dress.

Piper spent a solid hour blowing out and styling my hair. By the time she was done, I hardly recognized myself.

“You should do this for a living,” I told her.

She beamed. “You know, I actually considered cosmetology out of high school because I found it fun. But then I remembered it would be a job and not just something I enjoyed, so I went into business to help run Sinclair Cellars with my dad.”

“Practical,” I said softly. “My parents wanted me to do something practical like that. I even got the correct degree and then never went to pharmacy school. I pursued photography instead.”

“Seems to have worked out,” Piper said.

I smiled. “I guess it has.”

Blaire hip-checked Piper. “Allow me access to the canvas.”

Piper rolled her eyes and got out of Blaire’s way for her to work her makeup magic. I was halfway through makeup when the doorbell rang.

“That can’t be Julian yet, can it?” Blaire asked.

“No way,” I said, checking the time.

“I’ll get it,” Piper said. She hopped up from her seat and headed out to the living room.

Blaire went back to work on my face but stopped a few minutes later when Piper still hadn’t returned.

“Pipes?” Blaire called.

“Uh,” she said from the living room, “y’all might want to see this.”

Blaire and I exchanged a look of confusion. Then I hopped off the seat, and we headed into the living room.

What we found made my brow furrow in confusion. Piper had draped a black garment bag over the dining table, and in her hand was a shoebox.